Dear Elliot, (Wattys 2015)

Chapter One: Her Last Day Of School

I leave the bathroom and see Risa standing there.

There is something in her pocket. She is shaking. 

"Whats that?"

"Feminine hygiene product. Move please," She muttered, not meeting my eyes.The thing in her pocket is clearly too big to be a pad or tampon It could be an oddly shaped makeup bad though. I do as she asked me though, but once I get back to the lunch table, I grill Bradley (my and Risa's best friend) about it. Eventually he admits giving her something, but won't admit what it is.

"SHE'S SELF DESTRUCTIVE! WHAT DID YOU GIVE HER?" I yell at him,

"A GUN OKAY?! I GAVE HER A GUN!!" I run into the bathroom, just in time to see her. I see her. She sees me, but its too late. BANG! She falls to the ground,I catch her.I hold her close, and wait for me to wake up. This is clearly a dream. No its a nightmare. She looks asleep, if there isn't a bullet hole in the side of her head, I would think she is asleep. 

"I love you" I whisper, hoping she can hear me. Wait..true love's kiss! I pull her closer and try a kiss, which doesn't erase what just happened. WAKE UP! I think to myself. I need to wake up and see her at school on Monday, this will be the longest weekend ever. I don't wake up. 

9 years. I have known her 9 years. When I was 7, I moved next door to her. My mom was making me go door to door to meet the neighbors.The first stop was the Livian family, I rang the doorbell and Mrs.Livian came to the door. She asked how old I was, I said 7, she said she has two kids my age and she called Risa and Rory to the door. Rory said their best friend is Bradley Archer and that I could play with them. I always liked Risa better than Rory, but that was a secret. I only knew Rory for 5 years.

They lost Rory 3 years ago when he was 13, in a drunk driving accident. Mrs.Livian was fine,just a broken leg, but Rory was dead in about 3 seconds. They said it was a miracle that Mrs. Livian made it at all.

The EMTs are called to the school, and the police (who have to physically tear me away from her). She is taken to the hospital, but declared DOA. I wonder why they even bothered taking her, do they usually do that with gunshot wounds, even if the person is clearly dead? Do they think she was murdered? Was she murdered? Bradley gave her a gun...Bradley. How can I ever look at him the same way again? The answer is I probably won't.Eventually I make my way home. 

My mom is sitting at the kitchen table,with yet another black eye,looking like someone had just punched her in the face (knowing my stepdad, someone probably has).

"Hey, I heard.Are you okay?"

"No, but I will be. I need to call Mrs. Livian, or Mr.Livian. She doesn't want anybody wearing black at her funeral." 

"Okay, I'll tell them. Maybe this is a bad time, but, what do you want to do for your birthday?" She looks me in the eyes, but I can't bear to look at her for more than a few seconds, with her eye all swollen.

"Mom, you know the answer. I want you to leave that no good son of a bitch lame excuse for a-"

"SHHH! He's home!" 

"Yes I am." My stepdad, Jackson walks in. The only thing scarier then an abusive stepfather, is an abusive SOBER stepfather. "She isn't going to leave me. You need to see something, your mother loves me. She is happy with me, right, Dawn?" My mom nods quickly and readjusts her seating position. "You don't want to take away her happiness for your own selfish reasons, right?"

"Thats not happiness, thats fear." I argue, he laughs. 

"Go to bed," He orders. I look to my mom, who nods. I walk down the hall toward my room. My room is  painted dark blue, like it has been since my mom found out I was gonna be a boy. I have a bed with a blue and green striped comforter, with a shelf above the head. I have a desk with a red spinning chair. Pretty bare when you think about it, a lot of my stuff was either sold by Jackson, or stolen. At one point I had a computer on the desk and a small T.V. on an end table at the foot of my bed. After taking in the surroundings for an odd amount of time, I flop on the bed. Literally, I stand at the foot of the bed and bend over face first into it. After being in that position for what feels like forever, I realize my legs are tired, so I move to the side, get in, and try to sleep.