I shut my eyes but it’s a moment too late. The image floods my mind’s eye. Amanda suspended from the ceiling, face distorted, her tongue dangling from her mouth. No notes, no goodbyes. Only five letters written in blood on her dressing mirror, sorry.
Year after year, I pretended it did not happen. I pretended I didn’t see Melvin in her room, stabbed all over his body, bowels distended and rapist carved into his chest.