“Go to sleep,” she mouthed it, didn’t say it. But I had heard her before; I knew where this was going.
“Shh… just go to sleep. It’s alright. Go to bed.” I watched as her figure practically flew away from the window, the legs of the Ohio State “block O” pants sailing by me. I didn’t want to get up. I knew it wouldn’t do any good. This was never gonna change. I stood and ran down the hallway and threw the front door open. I watched as she glided around the house corner.
“Lydia!” I heard my voice scream but my lips didn’t move. I went around the corner after her just to bump into her, falling backwards into the snow. Just as I had last night, the night before, and the night before, and the night-
“What’re you doing Lydia?” She began crying.
“I don’t know Louis. I- I- it’s not you. I…” the sentence was lost in a mess of tears as her hand came up to her head. That’s when I saw the gun. Even though I had been through this so many times, every night the same thing, I still was shocked to see the gun. My chest still sunk and I still stood back up as quick as I could to hold her other hand.
“Lydia. Lydia, look at me.” She turned her head up towards me but the gun stayed at her head. I could feel the indent of the block O’s under my hand. My favorite pants. The ones my dad gave to me. All he left me after he died. With the way I acted, the way I ran away: I expected nothing. And yet, I got these pants. She was the first girl I let wear them…
“Louis. I’m sorry. I- I can’t- Louis. I’m sorry.”
"Lydia…” then my ears began ringing. I fell backwards. I hit the cold, white ground hard and began crying for no reason.
I shoot up as my covers fall. I’m breathing heavy, I’m sweating and I can’t get that final “I’m sorry.” out of my head. I push the covers aside and begin to stand. I walk over to the dresser and slowly open the bottom drawer. A tear falls onto the blood-stained, block O, pajama pants.
“Louis. I’m sorry. I- I can’t- Louis. I’m sorry.”
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