I sat alone, on the bare hardwood floors of my apartment. My first instinct upon looking up at my popcorn ceilings was to take my own life; besides that, I was getting nowhere, I was poor, lonely and soon to be homeless. I slowly stood up and made my way to my kitchen. I opened the second to last drawer revealing four knives. I placed my palm on the handle of the one with a teal handle, glossy and a shiny, silver blade that glimmered in the sliver of light that shone from a slit in my black out curtains. I pulled the knife out at eye level, examining the weaponry that would soon set me free from the misery of life. I held the knife to my temple. A loud knock on my front door interrupted my unfortunate event. This startled me, I dropped the knife. On it's way down, it took a sliver of the skin of my nose bridge with it. The knocking continued. “I am coming!”Aggressively, I ripped a sheet of paper towel off of the holder and held it to my nose. I braced myself, and peered through the peephole, then immediately regretted moving so eagerly. I was confused, it was my neighbour with a box, neatly wrapped in gold shiny wrapping paper and topped with a green and gold ribbon tied into a bow. I didn’t want to talk to her in particular, dreading her “How have you been?” I opened the door hastily, so as to not give her the time to knock again. “Merry Christmas Dave!” My heart sunk. It was Christmas? Already? I had completely lost track of time. Thus far, no one had said anything about a festivity to me; no ‘Happy Holidays’ from mom, pops, or any of my two brothers. “Thanks, um, same to you.” I stared at her for a minute, I guess she wanted to be let into my barren apartment. I figured her inner-interior-designer would start to completely dispose of me but it invited her in. “I got you a little gift, but don’t open it yet!” She smiled at me, despite her bits of judgement of my apartment. As she looked around, I saw her smile start to fade. “I am sorry that you’re being evicted.”My head sunk into my chest. She reached her arms out for a hug. I really didn’t want to start crying and confide in her, but I was going insane keeping it all in. I guess she felt my tears fall against her wool sweater. “If you need to talk, you can talk to me, You know that right?” The thing was, I didn’t need to talk, nor did I want to talk; I just wanted to cry. She pulled me in and the tears continued to slide down my cheeks and onto the shoulder of her sweater. She held me closer. I dropped the gift onto the floor. “Why did you do it?” she asked. My heart sunk, I pulled myself out of her arms. I stared at her wondering why she would ever bring that up. The tears had started to triple. Both tears of sadness and guilt engulfed my face. Alexandra and I had a ‘brief’ but impactful friendship, two years to be exact. I was extremely arrogant and a horrible person. She had been kind to me, one of the only people who had done so, and I took her kindness as her “leading me on”. On our way back from seeing Wicked in the theater, I touched her. Our driver didn’t see, so I ignored her pushing my hand away. Everyday I look back at that moment and mentally face-palm. I keep asking myself why I would do that, and part of me genuinely tries to justify it. “I was stupid.” The guilt consumed my face. She broke the silence; “I forgive you,”She smiled at me. I let out possibly the most uncomfortable laugh. It was strange. She was strange. She leaned in for another hug. This time she cradled the back of my head forcing me to lean closer to her, back into the crevasse between her shoulder and neck. “but you made me feel disgusting, like me and my body didn't deserve to be respected.” The tears came back, but now they felt like weightless thorns prying their way out of my eyes. Suddenly, I couldn't bare the silence; “I am sorry, I am sorry. I didn't want to make you feel that way. I beat myself up everyday for doing it everyday,”
She eased her body off of me. She still looked eerily calm. “Dave, can I use your restroom?” I nodded and vaguely pointed to the direction of my powder room. I follow behind her towards the bathroom. I hadn’t realized how much I miss her presence; the gentle, calm and happy aura that she emitted. I could tell that she had remembered where the bathroom was from the last time we hung out at my place as without hesitation she walked through the second door on her right through the tiny corridore. I went back out into the living room where the gifts layed amongst a dozen brown moving boxes stamped with The Home Depot logo. I picked up the gift, opened it and amongst the tissue and glitter laid an envelope. The envelope read; “My Dear” I reached to my left, patting the boxes in search of a pair of scissors. Impatience got the best of me and instead of rummaging through the boxes, I ripped the short end of the envelope. A note folded and three, stamped with wax was now in my hands. I dropped the envelope and box to my side and unfolded the paper. Money? What looked to be thousands of dollars fell to my feet. But screw the money, why was she giving me anything? I began to read the note;It hurt. She mentioned how I made her feel both horrible and loved. And told me how I am the reason she is dead. It made no sense she was alive, right? It hit me. I ran to the bathroom with the note in hand and there she was. Dead. I dropped the note and in the corner that touched her thick dark red blood read; “I left you $64 015 dollars. Everything I own.”
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