I Remember It Well

Devon just came back to his house after a night of partying. A day after my burial he's already out and about getting laid and drunk. How Sweet. I muttered to myself as I spy on him stumbling with his keys to open the door. 

Devon stepped inside his empty house. Like me, Devon was quite the lost soul, but unlike me, he must have enjoyed the fact that his parents are always away. Must have been nice than being in the same house every single day, all the forced interactions, the awkward nods. He is lucky he doesn't have to go through that. In fact, his parents must love him dearly or rather overcompensate with their inadequacies by always bailing him out of trouble and giving him the best things in life. I guess his carefree attitude attracted me to him. I naturally gravitated to his rebellious tendencies which my friends find repulsing. He was insanely rich and troubled at the same time. We may look like the power couple in high school, the extra popular pair but nonetheless, you can smell toxicity from a mile away. Some of my friends thought I may be the wild one but never knew how messed up I was.

Devon swayed as he slumped on the sofa, he put up his feet on the coffee table and appeared to be half asleep. He let out a sigh and even as I look at his drunken state I can remember why I fell for him. His dark hair, his blue eyes, and his piercing smile. Oh, Devon...I remember everything all too well. I close my eyes and I saw flashes of us. Driving around in his convertible wind swaying my hair as I hold my scarf up and laugh, drunk, free and happy. I felt that. Happiness with him was sharing our unsaid sorrow together. Never really opening up to each other but silently erasing every bad scar or memory with our carefree days together. He felt like home to me. I know he felt it too.

I don't remember how everything fell apart. It was perfect, it was us. I always thought Devon will be my saving grace. He will make me forget and make me look forward to the rest of my life. He almost did, if not for that one night when he held my cheeks and gave me one final kiss. The kiss was gentle full of love and regret and then he left. I walked home alone on that cold night. Tears streamed down my eyes and that my friends were the final nail to my coffin. That night I already died. Devon, how could you break my heart? You'll know very soon how much it hurt. 

Looking at him right now all my anger seemed to melt. For a moment I let myself be me. I sat down beside him. I couldn't feel his warmth but all the memories were enough for me to know how he felt. I let my fingers trail from his cheeks to his lips. I lingered for a moment as memories flashed of our first kiss, it was awkward at first, hesitantly, he looked at my eyes as if pleading to let him do it and I saw there the need, his immense need for me. I never felt that in my life and at that moment, I felt it. I was needed, I was wanted, it's almost as if I was loved. I held out my hands and touched his face and we closed the gap between us and it was magic. It was love, desire, and need all rolled into one kiss. It was gentle, it was pure, it was all I ever wanted. I didn't realize I was closing my eyes, it was like as I was on that very day under that old willow tree sitting on top of the hood of his car, just us and the subtle faint rays of the sunset. I shook those memories away and I stood up and left his house. I could not let myself dive into those memories, it is too painful. It's as if I could still hear my heart pounding, my hands sweaty with nervousness and excitement at the same time. The butterflies in my stomach made me sick and giddy. "Ah...young love, my Devon, if only things happened differently, if you did not break me the way you have broken me, I would still be running to your arms and never look back," I said to myself as I sat underneath that very same willow tree. I could feel tears streaming down my eyes that aren't there. There are no more tears when you're dead, but I know how it felt. I will forever know how I felt, I fell hard and I thought it was what I needed in my hopeless existence, that year I was at my happiest. That year I thought I was saved. That year, I fell in love. 

I watch as the stars glow and the wind howled. It's as if I'm still here, body, mind, and soul. Even in the afterlife, he has so much of me. Does he even think of me? When he learned of my demise, did he even shed a tear? I shook my head as memories start to flood all over again. Flashes of our days together, me and Devon running down the stairs of the school's fire exit so he could kiss me deeply and whisper things like, "God you're so beautiful Hannah, I'm so crazy for you..." and I would kiss him back with the same need and passion because I felt it. He was beautiful, magnificent, he was my soulmate...but, why am I alone now? Cold and dead and he was there slumbering deeply on his couch, drunk, happy, laid, and very much alive? He was my soulmate or so I thought. The gap in my soul is inexplainable. It's as if dead as I was, my soul is still aching for one last touch, one last kiss, one last I love you... 

I shake these thoughts away because like my life, they were just a fleeting sense of belongingness and happiness. I must focus on why I'm here - revenge.