That was inappropriate. I didn't know how to handle heavy things with her before, I know less even now. Every letter that scrawls across the screen seems crueler than the last,

she...

...I...

We...

got in a fight at the party. It was mostly my fault, I mean it was her fault she told him to watch out for me, that I had already been unfaithful. It was his fault that he starting screaming at me so slinked away to avoid dealing with him. She shouldn't have done that she knew I was trying; He started to look at me like a possession. I can't blame her though. I want to, as if this could have been an inevitable conclusion to everything that had happened between us.

She was in the bathroom, staring into the mirror half-sad and half-satisfied, when I forced my way in without knocking. She should have never let me in, and this was the last time she ever did.

Insufficient words were exchanged, a our routine cruelly trapped us in an endless inconsequential conversation that swirled and whirred until the shit was clogged and the whole room started to reek,  until things started to get physical. Months of pent up frustration and unspoken heartbreak poured out in the way we thrashed each other around our tiny disgusting bathroom. The body that used to press up against me in warmth and wetness was now pushing my face into the hair trap at the cold and damp bottom of our tub tiny tub. Shampoo bottles and shaving gel used as batons to force us off each other.

It was my fault that I pushed her. I... acted, unsure of what I was doing. A cocktail of uppers, downers were throwing my consciousness in and out of commission from around 12-4. She was cold by 3.

I pushed her away from me

and she flew out of control

with nothing to grab hold of

and she...

...she left an indentation on the counter-top and a spurt of blood on the mirror. It stood out sharply against the turquoise reflection of the rest of the bathroom and made it impossible for me to see the tears that were streaming down my face when I stood up and realized what had happened. I screamed and stumbled out of the bathroom into a room full of her friends, covered in her death, and that's all I can bear to remember.