It was dark and I was hitchhiking. But none of the swirling glances of passing drivers knew that. Nor did I want them to. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. Then I saw her car approaching up ahead. Just like they predicted. I stuck my thumb out and hoped for the best. But she had begun to pull over. Just like they predicted. Heart of Gold, I was told, Heart of Gold. And I was mad at her for that. I was nervous, God was I nervous. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t meant for this. I wasn’t born in the streets I was thrown into them. I lacked the emptiness needed to have been standing on that curb. I lacked the skill of disregarded remorse. I lacked the ability to disregard trauma. And I definitely- had to get my head in the game; she was getting closer. I remember her truck nearing my hesitance. I remember every moment so delicately… ‘Need a ride?’ She had asked. No. Please leave. I thought. ‘Yes’ ‘Get in’ So I did. ‘You must be freezing.’ She said. But I felt nothing. ‘Yea, I’m a bit cold.’ She handed me a blanket. A blanket so warm, I found myself uncovering the light for the very first time. I had been handed many blankets just like it, but none as right as that one had been. And that would have broken my heart. But I was trained not to have one. So it didn’t. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. ‘Are you hungry?’ Yes. ‘No.’ ‘What are you doing out here? You know it’s dangerous.’ ‘It’s not so bad.’ I half joked. Written By: Aileen Orellana ‘Are you headed south?’ No. ‘Yea just a bit further.’ ‘May I ask for what?’ ‘I have a small favor to return. Nothing big.’ Sitting here on this damning curb I still wonder how I felt. Restless nights kept me thinking I regretted every moment. But an engraved thought reminded me it was nothing; nothing big. I always look back wondering if she knew. I was once told that in the last few moments before we die; we know we are going to. Some fight until the very end, others just accept it. I have witnessed those fighting for it. I can’t help but think she accepted it. And that makes me hate myself that much more. Before then, I had often tried to visualize her beauty; what she would look like. I had heard stories about her; wonderful stories. So many wonderful stories. She was angel, God was she an angel, sacrificing bits of herself to make something good out of crap; out of nothing. And we were crap. And sitting on that passenger seat I was nothing. I had followed her days before. I was taken by her. She was beautiful. A pure soul. What could she have ever done wrong? Besides, stand up for us, people like us. Never asking for anything in return. Just wanted us to promise we’d be good. But promises have no substance. They have no value. No incentive. And that’s how people like us think. Forgetting what the promise really stands for. Forgetting we ever even knew what it stood for. And there I sat, having forgotten the meaning; even though it was right in front of me. That promise, I never made. And after tonight, it sure wouldn’t be kept. And then everybody could thank me. You’re welcome. We spent the time talking as we passed lonely roads. And the more I spoke with her, the more I sank. I remember the popping of the tire. That goddamn tire. The treacherous reminder. Their timing was perfect. Just like they predicted. I remember hopping off the car, to ‘take a better look at the damage’. I remember asking her for help. And I remember her eyes. Her eyes resisted. I saw those eyes resist as I felt my heart try to fight the grip of its own grasp. But her spirit was stronger. Her goddamn spirit was stronger. I remember her crouching down and I remember grabbing her hair. I remember grabbing her hair with full force and flipping her down onto her back. I can still hear her body hit the ground as I began to stab her with a thousand knives. I stabbed her once. And then I stabbed her again. And then I stabbed her again and again. And again, and just one more time after that. And I kept going until the blood flow of a killer’s instinct ceased and she had stopped breathing. Written By: Aileen Orellana Afterwards, I sighed. And then I cried. And then I sat there, and I hung my head and cried. I cried for myself. I cried for what I had done. I cried for her. I cried for the beauty I ruined. I cried for the soul I murdered. I cried for never having been good. Not even a little. I once told a kid to run as fast as he possibly could and pretended I lost sight of him. But that wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. I held her in my blood stained arms, as close to me as I could, and I cried. I drowned myself in my tears, I drowned her in all I felt. I cried because everything was my fault. But mostly I cried because I was a coward. I was such a coward. I couldn’t even stab her in the heart, I was afraid my knife would break. Somewhere amongst the darkness I had heard thunder, but I didn’t want her to hear it, so I covered her ears and kissed her good night. The memory of her still haunts me. But I had to remind myself to stop the thoughts and get my head in the game; the car was approaching.