I THINK its done? eh...perfectionism

Numbered Story

Character 3 recent high school graduate
Setting 8 a polluted stream
Time 9 first week of the school year
Situation/Challenge 1 An important decision needs to be made




Tip-toeing down the sidewalk, I attempt to blend in to the walls beside me. I watch the cracked concrete as I make my way to the store. Before I have a chance to turn into the doorway, I feel the comforting warmth of a hand on my shoulder. I can recognize the touch of her tender, fragile hands from any other person. Turning to gaze into her pale, calm eyes, a wave of comfort rolls over my restless body. “Hey sweetheart,” she smiles flirtatiously. From the look on her face, I know she is up to something.

“Hey you,” I reply in a questioning tone. She reads the confusion in my voice.
“I have decided that you and I need to have one last blow-out before our first week of college,” she tells me. “I found the perfect place for our sinful event.” I smile back at her and let her continue. “We are going to take the girls camping!” she squeaks. My nose wrinkles up in disapproval. “Before you say no, let me explain. There is a little polluted stream behind the old metal factory about 10 miles from my house. It's perfect. No one will see us. Therefore, we can't get caught.” I don't disagree. It is not worth trying to disagree with her. When she gets her mind set on something, you can't change it. She's stubborn like that.

She and I make our way to the campsite together. Our tiny backpacks are bulging with everything we need for the night. “I hope Jess brings the ice,” I tell her. “I can't drink this without ice. It is called 'on the rocks' you know.” She can tell I am irritated.
“Would you snap out of this mood already?” she asks. “I'm sure she'll remember.
“Wait till tonight. As soon as I take a shot on the rocks, I'll be just fine,” I smile.
The toxic kiss burns my crimson lips as soon as it touches them. My lips meet the rim once more, yearning for danger. Impatiently, my mind waits for the pleasure. Slowly, I feet my true self melting away. The ground beneath me no longer feels solid. At any given moment, it is going to give in. Back and forth, my world begins to tilt. I glance around to see if anyone else is unsteady. The blurred faces of my friends spring past me as if I am a ghost. They head towards the polluted stream. What could possibly be over there that they find so fascinating? Taking in the sight of them, I realize something is wrong. At that moment, reality snaps back into place. I hear the distinct sound of footsteps trudging in mud, the crash of water against bodies; the sound of something dragging across the grass. Chaos surrounds me. Their shrill screams pierce the warm summer air, sending chills down my spine. Where is she? Where is my girl?

In a sea of caps and gowns, I find her. I trace my finger along the soft edges of her face in attempt to feel her again. Her wide eyed expression and innocent smile make her seem like an untouchable porcelain doll. Observing the photograph in deeper concentration, I try to memorize even the tiniest freckle, the vaguest dimple. I will not allow myself to forget her. Sometimes at night when I lay down to remember her features, my mind is blank. I can search the corners of my mind for hours and come up with nothing.

A year ago today, I am sober. I made an oath that night that I will never binge drink again. A year ago today marks the anniversary of that night. Occasionally, the memories of August 23rd invade my mind. Occasionally, I let them. No matter how much it hurts to remember, it brings me closer to her again.