I Knew

I met Christine in high school. Back then, she was everything to me. She still is. As a teen, I knew dating was a way to see how relationships work, but when I met her... I knew she was what I needed from a relationship. She always knew when I was feeling sad, and would do anything to cheer me up. Christine had this weird, backwards way of thinking so that every little thing could become amusing. I would never have made it through high school, because I was the kid who did drugs. I let my grades slip. But she saw something in me. After I met her, I dropped drugs in favor of studying. My grades were getting better, and my life was improving. She lifted me out of that rut, and I could never feel as guilty about it as I do now. I knew something about Christine. She was being abused by her father. I saw him hit her in the parking lot at school one day when he was picking her up. She hid the bruises well, and nobody else could even tell. I was the only one who knew. I knew.

I didn't do a goddamn thing. I didn't tell anyone. I could have helped her. I could have stopped him.

But I was a fucking coward. And a nobody. Even if I did tell someone, I figured nobody would believe the druggie. That's what I thought.

She would still be here today if I hadn't fucked up so badly. But she saved me. I owe her my life, but she took hers. How can I ever repay her?

I knew.

I knew goddammit.