The music slowed and we were left on the dance floor. His green eyes glisten like light reflecting of the dew of spring leaves. Both hearts pounding in unison with the slow beat of the bass. “We can sit back down if you want.” He says. The thing is I don’t want to sit down. I want to soak in the current moment. I want this because for the first time in a long time, i feel something. Call it happiness, excitement, anxiety. “Can we just stay here a bit longer? 30 more seconds?” “Anything you want.” So we stay. We stay in the light and the music surrounded by cascading confetti like airborne sawdust. I’ve never felt more like a human than I do right now. “Hold on.” He says as he walks to the front and hand a CD to the woman at the table. I loved the fact that he still used CDs. You walked back to me while Fly Me to the Moon rang out into the air. “Surprise.” He says to me with a grin spread across his face. He knew I loved Frank Sinatra, or as he jokingly called him, Fred. He took me by the waist and pulled me closer to you. Rocking back and forth to the light snare crash of the song, I lay my head on his chest. I am completely and utterly safe. The sad thing is that feeling is gone, it’s in the past. It’s in the past because as of three hours ago, everyone’s life had changed. I ran into the hospital and see the nursing station buzzing as the bomb victims pour in. I can’t see him. My vision is flooded by the white of the hospital against the red, burning skin of the victims. As I rush around, I catch a glimpse of his singed dirty blonde hair. I stop and look into the room of body lined floors. I realize that this is the room for the most unfortunate victims: The ones who didn’t make it. My emotions started to spiral out of control and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I ran from the hospital and collapsed in the parking lot. When I woke up I was in a room with no door, just a curtain. It took me a while to realize I was in the hospital. I then started to frantically search the small room for anyone resembling my family. My eyes landed on my best friend. She had been at home studying so she hadn’t suffered the same fate as...him. She was bent over with her face buried in her hands. “Conner, where’s Conner??” I said, hoping all of this was just an awful dream. “Anna! Are you okay? Wait, let me get the nurse!” She said running through the curtains. “Ashley! Where’s Conner?!” She ignored me. When she came back through the nurse followed her. Suddenly there was a bright, beaming light in my eyes. “Just follow the light, hun.” The nurse told me. Left, right, then back to the left. I followed the light fine, but then I was corrupted by sharp piercing flashbacks. I forced my eyes shut and fell into the bed. “CONNOR!!” I shouted into the pillow. The nurse looked at Ashley, then she left the room. She came to the bedside and I felt the cold touch of her fingertips on my shoulder. “ W-we need to talk.” I could hear the slight crack in her voice and I could guess what she intended to tell me. “There was an accident. You went to the dance with Connor and, I don’t know, there was some sort of bomb in a locker. When it went off, Connor threw himself over you. He wanted to protect you from the blast. You must have hit your head on the table because when they found you they said you were unconscious. You may have woken up and walked away because when they came back to get you, you were gone.” “Ashley, where’s Connor?” “I’m sorry, Anna.” “Where’s Connor, Ashley?!” “He’s dead, Anna. Connor died saving you.” Just then my world, officially, came crashing down. I hoped it was just a dream, turns out I couldn’t have been more wrong. I couldn’t even cry. It was like the rivers behind my eyes became dry and cracked. So I just sat there, drowning in an internal pain. I didn’t know what to do, so I just slept. I slept for days. And when I went home, I slept some more. I didn’t eat, I didn’t shower, I stayed in bed, for what seemed like weeks, just sleeping. I did this because it felt like the only way I could escape the pain I felt without him. It’s now been about a year since the accident. I still feel empty everyday. I can’t seem to find anything to fill the gaping void that he left in my heart, in my soul. Nevertheless, I try to live everyday. It’s March 15th and I’m walking out to grab the mail for my mother, sometimes I feel like she has me do this so I feel like I have some sort purpose, but what kind of purpose is to only get mail? I get the mail and bring it to her. As I’m walking away, I hear my mother call to me, “Anna, wait! There’s a piece here for you!” I take the letter and immediately recognize the handwriting. It’s Connors. My eyes start to tear up as I read it. The letter states: “Hey Anna! it’s me, Connor. I can’t even describe how much I miss you, but I need to make this fast. Today is April 19th and there are about 6 hours until the dance. I feel like there is no easy way to say this so I’m just going to say it: I’m going to bomb the school, tonight. I know when you get this your going to be very confused and you’ll feel betrayed, and I’m sorry. I’m not doing this to harm you, in fact I’m going to protect you. You will survive this and I’m going to make sure of it. To hell with everyone else. They ignore me everyday, but today they will see me. I’m so sorry, just know that I do love you. You are the only one who understands the real me. Goodbye.” I immediately run up the stairs and into the bathroom. I throw my hands up into the air and over my ears while I run down the wall. I’m crying, no, sobbing. I have never felt more empty and alone and confused in my entire life. I’m disgusted with myself. I don’t know how to feel, because even with this information I still love you. You’re a murder and a psychopath, but I still feel this strong attachment to you. I’m just so disgusted by the fact you killed all these people and yourself, but I lived. You saved me. I shouldn’t be alive, not like this. In that moment, I knew what I had to do. I walk into my bedroom and grab the bottles on my dresser. I sit on my bed and dry swallow each individual pill in each bottle. My vision is slowly fading. I should have died that day, and dying is what I plan to do.