The Summer With Spencer
The Summer With Spencer, Chapter 30- Blame
Llysa’s POV
Several days later, Spencer was helping me begin to put things away. It was August 18th, and I would be leaving on the 31st. He grabbed a shoebox out from under my bed as I carefully packed away things on my dresser. I heard the sound as the top slipped off and the contents slid out and onto the floor. I didn’t turn around until I realized what might be in the box. I whipped around in time to see Spence bend down and pick the items up, looking at them and squinting in confusion. “Spencer !” I shrieked. “Don’t-“ he looked at me with an odd expression. “You witnessed a murder ?!” He asked me, his voice rising up at the end. I had forgotten that he could read 20,00 words per minute, he had probably read three articles by now. It was all I could do to stand there in shock, with my jaw hanging open. He stepped towards me, tilting his head ever so slightly, oozing empathy. “It says that your best friend was murdered when you were twelve. That you witnessed it and helped put the guy away.” I lowered my head, my tears stinging my face like razors. The sorrow I had gotten rid of long ago now came flooding back full-force. “Why didn’t you tell me ?” He asked, sounding hurt. “I c-c-couldn’t s-save her.” I cried. “I should’ve saved her !” “You were twelve years old !” he told me, still using the same smooth, sympathetic tone. “Exactly ! I was TWELVE YEARS OLD ! What were you doing at twelve, graduating high school ?!” I retorted. “You know that’s not the same thing at all.” “I didn’t want you to know about my past, okay ? I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me.” I flashed back to that day, two years ago, when I was downstairs with my best friend at the time, Della Winters. We were fooling around in the basement, when the doorbell rang. We raced each other to get it, but Della got there first. The man burst through the door the second she opened it, and grabbed her around the neck in a chokehold from behind, because she was the closest. I was so naïve, at first I honestly thought it was one of her brothers friends fooling around. Until he pulled out a knife and threatened me, saying he would kill her if I made a move to get help. I moved, and he choked her dead right there in front of me. I killed my best friend.
He looked me straight in the eye, and I could see an odd expression there. It was blurred through my tears, but he definitely looked…..angry. “You think this was your fault ?!” He asked incredulously. He pointed to the newspaper,” This guy killed her. This man, not you, murdered your friend. There was nothing you could have done differently, nothing you could have done to save her !” He was talking really fast now, trying to reassure me. I shook my head at him, disbelieving. “You knew everything about me, couldn’t you just leave one stone unturned ?” I stalked out of the room. I was pissed beyond belief, couldn’t he have just left it alone ? All I wanted was a happy ending, we had so little time left, and he was about to wreck it all again. So much time had been wasted already, with my kidnapping, me running away, me being in the hospital, me and Spencer’s previous blow-out….. I sighed, once again, losing my faith in a happy ending.
Spencer’s POV
A couple of days later, I was assisting Llysa pack. It was August 18th, and she would be leaving on the 31st. I picked up a shoebox from under the bed as she carefully packed away the things on her dresser. She whipped as I bent down and retrieved the items. I looked at them and squinted in confusion. “Spencer !” She suddenly shrieked. “Don’t-“ I looked up at her,stunned. “You witnessed a murder ?!” I asked her, my voice rising a few octaves in surprise. I stepped toward her, tilting my head slightly. “It says that your best friend was murdered when you were twelve. That you witnessed it and helped put the guy away.” She lowered her head,her face crumpling with emotion and fought-back tears. “Why didn’t you tell me ?” I asked, hurt that she had kept something so HUGE from me all this time… “I c-c-couldn’t s-save her.” She cried. “I should’ve saved her !” “You were twelve years old !” I reminded her in a sympathetic tone. “Exactly ! I was TWELVE YEARS OLD ! What were you doing at twelve, graduating high school ?!” She retorted angrily. “You know that’s not the same thing at all.” “I didn’t want you to know about my past, okay ? I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me.” I looked her straight in the eye, with disbelief. I felt almost…angered. “You think this was your fault ?!” I asked incredulously, pointing at the newspaper,” This guy killed her. This man, not you, murdered your friend. There was nothing that you could have done differently, nothing you could have done to save her !” I was speaking really quickly now, trying to reassure her that she was not to blame, in any way. She shook her head, pissed. “You know everything about me, couldn’t you have just left ONE stone unturned ?” She stormed out of the room then, obviously upset. I felt horrible for dredging u[ such a horrific past, but how could I have let her bottle this up inside ? How could I have just turned away, turned a blind eye, and let her struggle with something ? I will never forget that article, it’s literally impossible for me too. I decided with finality that I had made the right decision.
Several days later, Spencer was helping me begin to put things away. It was August 18th, and I would be leaving on the 31st. He grabbed a shoebox out from under my bed as I carefully packed away things on my dresser. I heard the sound as the top slipped off and the contents slid out and onto the floor. I didn’t turn around until I realized what might be in the box. I whipped around in time to see Spence bend down and pick the items up, looking at them and squinting in confusion. “Spencer !” I shrieked. “Don’t-“ he looked at me with an odd expression. “You witnessed a murder ?!” He asked me, his voice rising up at the end. I had forgotten that he could read 20,00 words per minute, he had probably read three articles by now. It was all I could do to stand there in shock, with my jaw hanging open. He stepped towards me, tilting his head ever so slightly, oozing empathy. “It says that your best friend was murdered when you were twelve. That you witnessed it and helped put the guy away.” I lowered my head, my tears stinging my face like razors. The sorrow I had gotten rid of long ago now came flooding back full-force. “Why didn’t you tell me ?” He asked, sounding hurt. “I c-c-couldn’t s-save her.” I cried. “I should’ve saved her !” “You were twelve years old !” he told me, still using the same smooth, sympathetic tone. “Exactly ! I was TWELVE YEARS OLD ! What were you doing at twelve, graduating high school ?!” I retorted. “You know that’s not the same thing at all.” “I didn’t want you to know about my past, okay ? I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me.” I flashed back to that day, two years ago, when I was downstairs with my best friend at the time, Della Winters. We were fooling around in the basement, when the doorbell rang. We raced each other to get it, but Della got there first. The man burst through the door the second she opened it, and grabbed her around the neck in a chokehold from behind, because she was the closest. I was so naïve, at first I honestly thought it was one of her brothers friends fooling around. Until he pulled out a knife and threatened me, saying he would kill her if I made a move to get help. I moved, and he choked her dead right there in front of me. I killed my best friend.
He looked me straight in the eye, and I could see an odd expression there. It was blurred through my tears, but he definitely looked…..angry. “You think this was your fault ?!” He asked incredulously. He pointed to the newspaper,” This guy killed her. This man, not you, murdered your friend. There was nothing you could have done differently, nothing you could have done to save her !” He was talking really fast now, trying to reassure me. I shook my head at him, disbelieving. “You knew everything about me, couldn’t you just leave one stone unturned ?” I stalked out of the room. I was pissed beyond belief, couldn’t he have just left it alone ? All I wanted was a happy ending, we had so little time left, and he was about to wreck it all again. So much time had been wasted already, with my kidnapping, me running away, me being in the hospital, me and Spencer’s previous blow-out….. I sighed, once again, losing my faith in a happy ending.
Spencer’s POV
A couple of days later, I was assisting Llysa pack. It was August 18th, and she would be leaving on the 31st. I picked up a shoebox from under the bed as she carefully packed away the things on her dresser. She whipped as I bent down and retrieved the items. I looked at them and squinted in confusion. “Spencer !” She suddenly shrieked. “Don’t-“ I looked up at her,stunned. “You witnessed a murder ?!” I asked her, my voice rising a few octaves in surprise. I stepped toward her, tilting my head slightly. “It says that your best friend was murdered when you were twelve. That you witnessed it and helped put the guy away.” She lowered her head,her face crumpling with emotion and fought-back tears. “Why didn’t you tell me ?” I asked, hurt that she had kept something so HUGE from me all this time… “I c-c-couldn’t s-save her.” She cried. “I should’ve saved her !” “You were twelve years old !” I reminded her in a sympathetic tone. “Exactly ! I was TWELVE YEARS OLD ! What were you doing at twelve, graduating high school ?!” She retorted angrily. “You know that’s not the same thing at all.” “I didn’t want you to know about my past, okay ? I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me.” I looked her straight in the eye, with disbelief. I felt almost…angered. “You think this was your fault ?!” I asked incredulously, pointing at the newspaper,” This guy killed her. This man, not you, murdered your friend. There was nothing that you could have done differently, nothing you could have done to save her !” I was speaking really quickly now, trying to reassure her that she was not to blame, in any way. She shook her head, pissed. “You know everything about me, couldn’t you have just left ONE stone unturned ?” She stormed out of the room then, obviously upset. I felt horrible for dredging u[ such a horrific past, but how could I have let her bottle this up inside ? How could I have just turned away, turned a blind eye, and let her struggle with something ? I will never forget that article, it’s literally impossible for me too. I decided with finality that I had made the right decision.