Genevieve walked down the school hallway, wearing a pink frilly dress. I was about to compliment her when you walked up to me. You started to talk to me, but then you saw her. I cringed. You looked at her, unblinking. “Hey Genevieve! Nice dress! Did you decide to go shopping in your little sisters closet?” She looked away, used to this kind of treatment. “Oh wait, sorry,” you continued, “it must have been your baby sister’s closet, right?” You laughed at your own joke, so pleased with yourself. I told you to stop. You said, “I’m not being mean to you, am I? I’m not, so don’t worry about it.” The bell rang and I bolted off to class.

Your comments got more and more nasty. Most of the time, I avoided eye contact with Genevieve. She also avoided us by walking on the other side of the hall or not going to her locker in between classes. I didn’t want to side with anyone, but you were my boyfriend, so I stuck to you. I wouldn’t help you with the snide remarks or snickers, but I also did not stand up for her. I hate myself for that. I just stood there like the terrible person I am.

Genevieve started failing her classes and she dropped out of the school soccer team. I thought that you would take this as a warning sign, but I was wrong. You didn’t stop. The horrid judgments persisted with no end.
I took the hit too, going from top student to barely average. I just couldn’t concentrate on anything. Somehow you came out on top, the shining star. Why should we suffer? Why should you have so much when we have so little?
I brought up the question to you. I practically demanded that it was time for a break. You slapped me in the face.

One day I took a walk around The Cliff- the sudden drop-off to a swirling blue death. You came walking towards me. Oh no… and so did Genevieve. My heart started to pound and my hands got sweaty. Genevieve was looking down, but you noticed. You kept walking straight towards her, so that she bumped into you. “Whoa! Genevieve! Watch where ya’going!” You took a good look at her and then sniffed. “Is that smell… you?” You had a disgusted look on your face. She turned away, but you grabbed her arm. I stiffened. “And where do you think you’re going? You are but nothing compared to me, and you will not leave without permission. Or until I make sure you’re suitable.” Suitable? As I watched, my curiosity turned to horror. You pulled at her socks until they ripped down the sides. Then you yanked her hair out of her ponytail. When you reached for her necklace, she pulled away. Trying again, you grabbed for her, but she pushed you away.
“Stop it!” she barely squeaked. Anger overtook you.
“You will not push me!” You shoved her hard. Genvieve lost her balance and fell. There was no ground for her to fall on. Just a swirling. Blue. Death.

*
*
*

The soft microfiber blanket on my bed is very calming, though it will never calm me enough. I think my phone must have rang 20 times. I’m not sure how many times you called, because I silenced it after a while. I told you I didn’t want to talk, but you didn’t listen. You never listen. The doorbell rang, so I got off my bed to answer it and there you were, standing in my doorway. You also never give up.

I went to court today. You were charged with manslaughter and sentenced to several years in Juvie. I’m not guilty, free off charge. I should be guilty and I made that clear. I yelled and argued, saying it was my fault too. I was forced to leave the court room. It’s not right. I shouldn’t be here. I feel pointless. Days flicker by. I don’t eat, and I can barely sleep.

I got the invitation today. More like a statement. You are invited. I should go, but I don’t think I could make it. I can’t look into those sad peoples eyes, those red, puffy, sorry eyes that would burn into my brain and never leave. I couldn’t bear the thought of someone saying “It’s ok, you didn’t do it.” No, but I could’ve stopped it. But I didn’t. That thought will always linger.

At the funeral I met Genevieve’s family. She had a younger sister. A sister. I wanted to hide in a hole. But I didn’t. I pulled her away from the crowd to talk to her. Her wispy hair was matted on her wet face. I felt like hugging her. I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say. What should I say? “Sorry for your loss; I could’ve stopped it.” No, I had to say something else. I knelt down and looked straight into her eyes.
“Gracelin, listen, if anyone ever, ever bullies you, I want you to stand up to them. Try your hardest. But if you feel you can’t or they won’t stop, I want you to come to me. Because I will make them stop. I will stand up for you. I will do whatever it takes to make them stop. I will fight for you. I will never stop fighting for you.”