She feels bad, even though she really did love him.
She was certain it would work.
She really wanted it to.
It was love at first sight.
The type you hear about most of your life but never truly believe in.
The eyes that meet across the room and the whole world and time stop kind of love at first sight.
Their first touch was electric.
Their first kiss was like a wildfire.
No sex yet. She wanted to, oh, how she wanted to.
But she didn’t want him to see her scars, to see her naked.
She hadn’t shown her naked body to a man in a long time.
And this man was special. She didn’t want to scare him off.
It was love. Perfect love.
They’d stay up all night talking and laughing.
Telling stories and watching the clouds move on the night breeze.
She would have married him in a heartbeat.
He said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
She said he could, she knew a way.
When he drank the poison, it was a much more violent death than either of them expected.
She sat on the floor with him, as his mouth foamed and his limbs twitched.
When he finally died, she was relieved. Happy.
Where was he?
She waited for days.
He never showed up.
Of course, how could she be so stupid?
Suicides go to Hell according to the Catholics.
And he was a Catholic.
She had died in a car accident, through no fault of her own.
The ladder in the trunk that her friend rear-ended went through the windshield and nearly cut her in half.
She feels bad about what happened.
She really did love the boy.