text: It’s a brisk, bright morning at the pond. The chilly breeze ripples the water as I stand in the dampened sand looking at your memorial. The flowers and teddy bears that mobbed your smiling picture aren’t nearly as abundant as they were three years ago. Remnants of shriveled carnations lay at the base of the picture frame. I see your father bring one every time he trudges down the hill to visit you. It gets harder for him every time he comes here. Yes, it's a beautiful day today. Serene. Much like that day three years ago, when they found your battered, lifeless body twisted across the same sand I’m standing in right now. I close my eyes and allow myself to get nostalgic. I think back to when I first saw you working the counter at the Coffee Barn. I ordered the cinnamon coffee with cream and after I took a sip, I told you it was the best cup of coffee I have ever had. You smiled a smile so genuine, there’s no way you could have faked it. In that moment, I knew we should be together and the only regret I have is that our paths didn’t cross sooner. I’m not ashamed to say how disappointed I was when you left me to study abroad. I tried to move on, but when you came back home to me, I decided we would give it another chance. You settled in and took a job as a lifeguard at this pond. Oh, how you loved it here. You enjoyed watching the kids splash around and even joined in their games of Marco Polo. They adored how sweet and playful you were. We all did. Something seemed different though. You seemed distant and I felt unnoticed. Our last night together in the car on the way to the motel, I tried my best to be what you wanted. I went out of my way to cheer you up with gummy worms and 90’s music - two of your favorite things. We hit the highway fast and hard, weaving around other cars, outlandishly singing along to the radio. It took some convincing, but you begrudgingly joined in. The traffic thinned out, the bustling strip disappeared in the rear-view and tears began to form in your eyes. By the time we got to the room you were crying, telling me you were ready to leave. I cradled your head on my chest. “You need to just let me go,” you sobbed. I gently pushed the tears off your cheeks with my thumbs and told you everything would be okay. That seemed to upset you more. You couldn’t even appreciate the little things I did to try to make you feel better and so I called you selfish and told you I would drive you home. That’s when I knew it would never work. That’s when I first got that feeling. “Did you know her?” The words, and realization, that I’m no longer alone knock me from my slumber and instantly bring me back to the present. I turn towards the wounded, quivering voice to see the familiar man holding a single carnation. He’s worn and breathing heavily from the walk down the hill. My god he’s aged like a dog since I’ve seen him last. “My daughter, did you know her?” I turn back towards the water. “No. I just love this pond.” He nods and kneels down to place the flower next to the makeshift cross, the dates 1999-2018 etched on its horizontal board. I offer him my hand, he groans as I help him back to his feet and for a brief moment, we stand side by side. This is how it could have been if you noticed me; the three of us enjoying a beautiful day at the pond. Unfortunately, your selfishness left me with this feeling. This seething rage that I cannot contain much longer. I come here every time I get that feeling. It helps, but I’m afraid soon it won’t be enough to quell me. It keeps growing, like another piece of wood thrown on the fire burning inside me. I miss you so bad and I wish that you were here with me now, to satisfy this feeling. So that I could kill you all over again.