I didn’t push him away. It wasn’t my fault. It was his. He ruined everything, just when things were starting to look up. He’s the one who burned everything to the ground, turned my best friend against me, left me for dead. The accident wasn’t my fault.

It was his.

I lay awake every night, tormented by his stupid beautiful face.

I can’t push his memory away.

I cry tears of hate and love at the same time.

Every day I wake up sick, wondering why I’m still here, still fighting, still living. And then I remember. My soul craves justice against him.

I remember thinking to myself as I laid on the cold concrete, where had I gone wrong? What had I done? I realized there wasn’t anything wrong with me. He hid his true nature from me. He’s a devil.

It had been too cold and too unrealistically horrible, lying there on the freezing concrete, the snow falling softly, my car in flames beside me. Everything inside me hurt. I sobbed. Don’t be pathetic, I told myself. But my heart had shattered to a million pieces. I tried crawling to the flaming car just to get some warmth when it exploded and flung me backwards. I don’t remember the ambulance. I don’t remember the paramedics dressing my wounds.

The ringing in my ears wouldn’t stop. Everything I heard was muffled, like I had cups over my ears. I panicked, trying to open my eyes. Something pushed me back. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t even hear my own voice. Then, I felt someone’s hand in mine, their warm skin calming my nerves. I opened my eyes. Somebody’s face was hovering over me. I thought I recognized it as my best friend, but I couldn’t be sure. Their mouth moved but I didn’t hear any sound. The ringing in my ears wouldn’t stop.

Their mouth moved again. I felt hot tears running down my cheeks. Their voice almost broke the ringing in half. My name. They said my name and I sighed with relief.

“How are you?” They said. I couldn’t talk. I was so choked up no words came out.

“That’s okay, don’t try talking.” Said my best friend. She gave me a moment to collect myself and I finally got a chance to look around. I was in a dimly lit hospital room, in a bed, hooked up to a monitor. I gazed into my friends eyes and her face was tear stained.

“Why’d you do it?”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“You crashed the car. Why?”

“I wasn’t driving!” I cried.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“You won’t listen! I wasn’t driving the car, he was!”

“Oh so this is his fault?”

“Wha- I’m not blaming anybody! I’m literally just trying explain to you what happened!” My friend stood, revoking her hand from mine.

“You drove him off the road!” I sobbed.

“No, no I didn’t. I didn’t, I swear.”

“You know you did! You wanted him gone! Well, you got your wish! He’s gone! And he’s not coming back!”

I had never fully recovered from the accident. My face still shows scars and burn marks. And I never saw him again. It wasn’t my fault. It was his. He almost killed me. He drove my best friend away. He ruined my life.

My mind is now a prison. The walls are the same old memories of him and my best friend and the accident and what we could have had if he hadn’t ruined it all. He ruined everything.

I’ll never forgive him. He did this to me. He turned me into a monster, into something you couldn’t bear to look at. People pity me. But I hate them. I hate their pity.

Why’d he have to leave me alone in this hell on earth? Why couldn’t he have taken me with him?

Now I pray every night that his soul burns in hell.

He drove us off the road.

He killed himself.

It wasn’t me.

I loved him.