Everyone said things would be fine.

But as I stared out of the window, watching my life fly by, it was anything but fine.

I had no idea where I was going or what was going to happen, all I knew was that change was happening. And I didn’t like it. I’ve never liked change, but this…this was something else entirely.

I flashed back to last night. The night when everything was supposed to be right.

Then night when everything went wrong.

I had walked in the front door to my house, masking my excitement by the stereotype grumpy teenage attitude. Dumping my bag on the ground, I stalked passed my mother without a word.

“One moment, young lady.”

Reluctantly, I turned around, an anxious feeling creeping up inside me. I wanted so badly to run way from this scene, to get on with my plans, the plans I’d had been making for weeks, the plans I was seconds away from fulfilling. But I could tell from her tone that this was serious, something I needed to know.

It only took one look at her face to understand. Something terrible had happened.

The worst had happened.

Me knees collapsed as my mom told me in. Told me the words I dreaded hearing. Told me my worst fears had come true. Tears fell uncontrollably from my pale face. What was going to happen now? I wondered. How would ever recover on from this?

Later, after the tears had subsided, I went up to my bedroom. A gentle breeze flew in from the open window and he was sitting on my bed. I began to shake. I couldn’t handle this all in one night, first my mom, now this…

“What took you so long?” he asked me.

“I can’t come tonight.” I told him. I was careful not to look at him. My tear-streaked cheeks and blood-shot eyes would betray me.

“You promised you’d come!” he yelled, anger flaring up in his eyes.

Tears filled my eyes for the second time that night. “I know,” I mumbled, my head still down, “Something’s changed.”

“Baby?” he asked, his voice quiet, “Are you alright?”

“No,” I whispered.

“Can you tell me about it?”

“No!” I shouted with more firmness, “Please, not tonight.” Not at all.

“Fine,” he snapped, jumping back to the window, “You know,” he said with a bitter laugh, “I thought that you were special, different from everyone else, but it looks like I was wrong. Dead wrong.”

The last thing I saw before he disappeared into the night was his anger.

“Forgive me,” I whispered quietly, my voice barely audible in the blackness.

I collapsed onto my bed and gently caressed the rose he had left. Unable to hold back another wave of tears, I let them fall.

Forgive me.