42

42
POV Edgar Torn
A few days had passed since our last meeting.
The weekend was approaching, and I was, of course, restless — but I tried to remain patient. I would see her soon, which made me so excited. I would see her beautiful face on the day of the event she organized with the publisher, and just thinking about it made my heart leap in my chest.
In my daily routine, I continued to do my job: helping students, teaching lessons, and correcting essays.
But something bothered me a lot. It was Ruth; the way she was behaving these days, it caught my attention.
The way she looked at me was different, more intense, as if we were close, or more than that. However, we are not. Not at all.
She would smile at me in the hallways, in the classroom, and ask me frequent questions about grammar constantly, and I acted normal, helping her. Cautious, I watched her, wanting to better understand what was happening to her. I wanted to know why... because this wasn't normal.
Lucas, my best friend, kept sending me messages. He wanted to know my plans for the weekend.
When I replied that I would be at a writer's event on Sunday, he got the message and stopped insisting.
See you another day; I need to work now; talk to you later, buddy, he wrote.
I agreed with him that we would go out next week when things would be calmer. He just said ‘OK’ and didn't send anything else.
“Well, it looks like he understood,” I put my phone in my pocket and got ready to go home; my work was done.

Saturday arrived. I woke up with a big smile on my face and went through my morning routine with a different energy.
In the afternoon, however, my thoughts turned to Sarah. I opened her Instagram several times: she went out with her friends, went shopping.
I followed her, every move she made, every place she went, and that's when I noticed... how many guys greeted her on the street. Every glance — every smile she received — aroused in me a crazy, possessive jealousy inside me.
She was beautiful, charming, and affectionate; of course, everyone knew that, and seeing other men admire her made me nervous. After all, she was mine, and soon everyone would know that she was only mine.
When it started to get dark, I followed her to her apartment. When she entered the apartment, I breathed a sigh of relief. She was home now; she would rest.
I sped up my car. I was going back to get married now. When I arrived at the building, I parked the car and went up to my floor. I wanted to rest a little now, after the long day. I put my backpack on the couch and went to prepare something to eat.
Eggs with bacon, French fries, and juice—an easy dinner. I sat down and ate quickly.
When I finished, I took a quick shower to calm my restless mind. I put on some shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, laid down, took off my glasses, and turned off the light.
My mind returned to thinking about her again... About what would happen the next day: Sarah in front of several readers, and me there, not just as a teacher, but as a fan — and much more: as a man in love. Crazy about her.
I closed my eyes, covered myself up to my chin, and let sleep come. But instead of rest, a nightmare came.

The darkness engulfed me completely. I was in that place, which was simply the worst day of my life. That place that changed me entirely.
The moment that changed everything about me.
I relived that scene once again, which I thought I had buried, but no, it came back, just like before... I've lost count of how many times I've been haunted by this nightmare: the image of her — Amanda — lying on the floor drenched in blood. I crouched down, my eyes filled with hot tears. It seemed like it was really happening, right then and there.
My heart was broken, my throat hurt, every swallow of saliva hurt... My whole body was burning.
The street was deserted; the smell of fresh blood, the smell of rust stained her clothes, the asphalt. That bright red color.
No... not that again.
I tried to scream, but my voice didn’t come out.
I approached her, touched her arm, tried to shake, and waited for her to react, but her body was still, no movement.
I did not want to believe... my chest hurt, as if my heart had been butchered.
I, with all the strength that I had... the words came out hoarse, grave... said her name... but nothing had answers. Then my tears continued to roll over my face.
Amanda was not going to wake up; her heart didn’t beat anymore... my beloved had been... killed... cruelly...
''My love... Amanda, please open your eyes,'' I begged.
My pain was clear in my voice. I was broken.

I woke up almost jumping out of bed, my heart pounding, tears streaming down my face.
I felt my pillow soaked.
My chest rose and fell in a desperate rhythm, and the memory of that terrible day still burned inside me.
Six years had passed, but that trauma insisted on haunting me. I wanted to call her name; I wanted to feel her alive beside me. To see her smile.
But she was gone... I felt guilty... I should have saved her.
Tears still rolled down my face. I bit my lip and called her...
“Amanda,” I said in a hoarse voice.