She's Drowning in My Regrets

Krystal Rene Jordan. She was the best friend I’d ever had. I’d known her my entire life. She had the most amazing laugh, and when she smiled, it damn near broke your heart. She’d see me and her face would light up. Even before we admitted it to one another, I knew she loved me just as much as I loved her.

I trusted Krystal with my life. She’d saved it so many times; how could I not? We were always together. Always. With the exception of when one of us was in the bathroom, though that’s pretty much a given. I was the one who could cheer her up, no matter what. I could look at her and she’d grin. I was the one she’d call when she couldn’t stand to be crying all alone again. I suppose that changed once the guys and I started working on City of Evil.

Trust me, I didn’t mean to change. I didn’t mean to inadvertently ruin Krys’s life. I didn’t; I swear. I don’t think I even noticed that I was changing. The guys didn’t either; at least, they didn’t say anything. I was the same person that I was before the fame to everyone but her.

She called me out on it a few times. I remember the first time. It was the first time she’d ever been angry with me. The first time she’d yelled. The first time I’d ever see the crack in her porcelain skin.

I walked into the apartment, knowing she was going to be awake; that she would be waiting for me. She always did. She couldn’t sleep without me there with her. She was sitting on the couch, staring forward. I knew she heard me walk in, but she did nothing to let me know that she knew I was home.

“Hey, baby,” I greeted, just as if nothing was wrong. And at that exact moment, I didn’t know something was wrong.

She turned to look at me. She had tear stains on her cheeks; her eyes were bloodshot and blank. “Hey, baby?” she asked. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been waiting for three hours, Brian!”

“I was just out with the guys, Krys. You- You knew that.”

She shook her head. “No. I knew that you were going to be home at one.”

“I’m sorry,” I walked over and sat next to her. She scooted away. “Babe, I swear I didn’t mean to be so late. I lost track of time. You know I’d never keep you waiting on purpose.”

She let out a sigh. “I know.”

It happened so many more times after that. But I never meant to get home late. The guys would always say, “Just a few more minutes. She’ll understand.” She didn’t understand, though. Krystal thought that I was, in fact, doing everything on purpose; I was meant to hurt her. I would never hurt her. Not intentionally. And I never did. Not once. Well, besides the day we met.

I sat on the swing, wishing I had someone to help me. I was four. How was I supposed to be able to swing on my own?

I heard the crunch of someone walking on the rocks beside me and looked over to see a little girl standing against the leg of the swing set. She had dark brown hair that was pulled back into little pigtails, tied with red ribbon at the base of her skull. Her big blue eyes stared at me as I stayed still on the swing.

“Hi,” she said quietly.

“Do you know how to swing?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Momma won’t teach me.”

“Oh. Well, maybe it’s not your mom’s fault. Maybe you’re just stupid.” I couldn’t stand to let this kid know that I also couldn’t swing all by myself.

Her big eyes welled up with tears, magnifying everything.

“Oh, no!” I yelled, hopping off of the swing and running over to her. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean it.” I looked around; making sure no one else was around us. “Wanna know a secret?”

She nodded and a few of the tears fell from her eyes.

“I can’t swing either.”

After the last time I came home late, I realized why it upset her so much. She wasn’t just sad that I wasn’t home. My being gone so long had pushed into the arms of something so vile it hurts me to even say it. She’d started doing cocaine. I felt horrible for not noticing it sooner. I felt horrible for being so powerless to stop it. It was fucking with her mind. She was forgetting everything we once had. I got home on time, but sometimes she was so high that she didn’t even know who I was.

I couldn’t talk to her anymore without seeing the guilt in her eyes. She knew she was hurting me. But I knew that she was only doing it because I’d hurt her. That made me feel worse.

Before she left, before everything got so much worse than it had been, I asked her time and time again, “Please come back. Remember when we were younger? Remember when nothing mattered but us?” She didn’t listen, of course. She packed her things and moved in with an old girlfriend. I don’t think it was my fault she moved. I think it was the guilt killing her that ended things.

The last time I saw her was the worst moment of my life.

I walked down the street. I was meeting the guys at some restaurant that Jimmy had picked and was running late. Jimmy had said 10:30; when I asked again, it was an hour earlier.

She was sitting at a café table. She was so thin; her beautiful hair looked so dull. Her chapped lips moved as she spoke with the girl sitting across the table from her. She picked up the cup of coffee in front of her and I was worried she would break.

Just before I got to the table, she looked up and her eyes met mine. They were different from the last time I’d seen them. They’d been cold, full of guilt and anguish. Now they were flat, blank. There was no emotion in the once gorgeous orbs. I knew at that moment that everything I’d feared was a reality. She’d forgotten everything. Everything that we’d been; everything that we’d had. I looked away and kept on walking, not able to face the facts all at once.

I will always regret not being able to save Krystal. She’s the one person I’ve always loved more than anyone. Ever since that day on the playground I knew I wanted to marry her. Instead, I’d ruined her and thrown everything away. It was my fault, what had happened to Krystal. She was gone. But I would never stop loving her. Never.