It's so Wrong

“Hey, Heather!” I heard my parents say from the kitchen as I walked with her into the house.
“Hi.” She said politely, waving, smiling. “How are you guys?”
“Wonderful, and yourself?” Mom asked.
She shrugged, still smiling. “Never better.”
Heather was the perfect girlfriend. Long, wavy brown hair, perfectly styled everyday, polite, nice, lots of friends, loves helping people; everything about her was what I dreamed out having in a girlfriend.
“Are you going to be staying for dinner?” Dad asked.
She looked at me. “Well, Sean? Am I staying for dinner?”
I wrapped my arm around her slender waist. “Of course you are.” I planted a kiss on her lips.
Heather and I have been dating for about two years strong. I couldn’t imagine my life without her in it, and I’m sure she feels the same about me.
At least, I thought she did.
I’m not the jealous type, but for some reason, Ronnie Radke drove me up the wall in jealousy.
Lately he’s been hanging around Heather like they’re best friends, when they could be polar opposites. Heather’s the nice, goody-goody girl, while Ronnie’s a rebel; getting drunk and laid were his hobbies, and I had a feeling that he was trying to lure Heather in. He wasn’t going to get anywhere near her, not if I had anything to say about it.
“So since when have you and that Radke guy become such close friends?” I asked her on the way to lunch.
She looked at me disapprovingly, obviously sensing my dislike in the situation. “Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, Sean. Ronnie’s a really nice guy once you get to know him. He’s not the tough guy he appears to be.”
“I know, it’s just...I get bad vibes from him. I feel like he’s gonna try to make you do something you really don’t want to do.”
“Don’t worry about me, Sean, I’ll be fine. I’m a strong woman, I can stand up for myself. I don’t give in to things that easily.”
“I know, which is why I’m trusting you.” I said, smiling at her.
She kissed me quickly before we got into the over-crowed cafeteria. I grabbed a slice of pizza while she grabbed a bagel with cream cheese.
“That’s all your eating?” I asked, punching in my pin number.
“I had a big breakfast, my mom made pancakes.” She said, putting hers in next.
“She’s off today?” I asked.
“Yeah, and she insisted she make me breakfast.”
“You didn’t call?!” I said, sounding offended.
She laughed as we made our way to our table. “I knew you would’ve been sleeping. I know you don’t get up til ten minutes before you come get me. That’s why your hair is usually all over the place.” She said, messing with my hair.
I laughed and grabbed her hand, pulling it down from my head, leading her the rest of the way to our table.
“I would’ve woken up for pancakes, come on now. You know they’re my favorite of all your mom’s cooking.” I said, sitting on the bench, Heather following next to me.
She padded my leg before opening her container. “I’ll remember that next time. Just don’t yell at me for waking you up.”
“As long as you mention there’s food involved, I think you’ll be safe from yelling.” I said with a smile, expecting her to hit me. When she didn’t, I looked at her looking at me. We both smiled and our lips touched. We were big supporters of PDA (public display of affection). We wanted people to know we were together and that we were in love with each other. Everyone at our lunch table, and most of the school, has come to accept this, and expect it.
“I love you.” She said quietly.
“I love you, too.” I said, continuing to eat my pizza.
I didn’t see Ronnie all day, making me feel a little better. He was probably at home, recovering from one of his countless drunken nights.
“So what are we gonna do tonight?” I asked Heather as we walked out of school together.
“Actually, I think I’m just gonna go home. I have so much homework tonight, and I need to sleep. I haven’t been getting much lately. Sorry.” She said, squeezing my side.
“It’s alright, I’m not gonna force you out of homework or sleep.” I said, getting into the driver’s seat, throwing my backpack in the backseat. Once Heather was in, we drove off towards her house.
This occurred almost everyday after this as well, and instead of looking better, she was looking worse. A lot worse. Her hair was always all over the place, she came to school in sweat pants and a sweatshirt that was neither mine or hers, and her healthy glow was starting to turn into a sickly yellow pallor, and she looked unnaturally thin. Her attitude was careless and she never paid attention; it was like she was in her own little world.
After about two weeks, I finally confronted her about it.
“Heather, what’s happening to you?” I asked, rather yelled at her one day on the way to my house.
“What do you mean?” She asked, not even looking at me.
“You know what I mean.” I said, pulling into my driveway and turning off the car. “We’re not getting out until you tell me what’s going on.”
“Then we’re gonna be sitting here for a while, because there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Bullshit.”
“Why do you insist on controlling me and what happens in my life? It’s my life, I can do whatever the fuck I want. I shouldn’t have to tell you anything.” She opened the door and got out, slamming it, walking in the direction of her house.
I got out of the car. “Heather!” I called out.
She turned around.
I looked down and sighed. “Now what.”
“Huh?” She asked, confused.
“Are we done. Are you leaving me. What’s going on.” I said, hoping it wasn’t true.
She looked at me and shrugged. “I guess that’s what it looks like, doesn’t it?” She turned around and started walking again. She pulled out her phone and called someone, then, to my surprise, pulled out a cigarette from her backpack, along with a lighter.
Everyday after that she was hanging off of a different guy, but always hanging around Ronnie. They would all glance over at me whenever I walked past them in the hallway and smirk.
Two years later, her lifestyle didn’t change much. I always saw her standing on the street corners, just waiting to get picked up so she could get her drug fix. The sight was heartbreaking, and, somewhere inside me, I felt like part of it was my fault. I didn’t notice and take any sort of action until it was too late.
I was driving down her street to get to mine, and noticed that she wasn’t out there. I pulled up to the curb and got out, curiously killing my rational mind. I went up to her door and knocked, the door slowly swinging open by itself.
I stepped in and automatically got a whiff of cigarettes and various other drugs. I closed the door.
“Heather?” I called out.
When I got no answer, I walked throughout the whole apartment, seeing no one.
I made it to the room that was most likely her bedroom. The door was closed, so once again, I knocked and called her name through the door.
No response. I turned the door knob and what I saw will be forever etched in my memory.
There she was, lying on her bedroom floor in a pool of her own blood. Next to her were two needles, both of which were empty. The two holes in her arms indicated what must’ve been in those needles. An empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s was beside her as well.
I could’ve done so much more to save her, now it hurts in the worst way, now that she’s gone.