Sometime between the sun kissing the sky goodnight and the moon making her appearance, I came across a gate. Beyond the gate, under mounds of dirt, is about twenty decaying pasts. With only the moonlight to convey light, I am at a loss for sight any further then the rustic looking gate.The thing is, I know what the gate has locked behind the bars that once stood proud and new. I’ve wandered past the deteriorating brick wall, the weeping willow that cries for her losses, and the moss covered tunnel bridge that lends 24 hour darkness for the worst demons to hide in. I’ve wandered past mother Mary with those eyes that hold  so much hope with no hidden agenda. If only she knew not to hold such hope for those like me..
My knowledge of this secluded place, is not because I enjoy breathing in stale air. It is not because I enjoy smelling the musk and pine mixed scent. And it’s most definitely not because I enjoy the silence. I have knowledge of such a place because while I have a home, a school, friends, and a family, I can’t escape the past. My past is what leads me here, my past is what still haunts my everyday life.
Since the accident i’ve become a living, breathing creature of the night. I lose sleep, I don’t eat, and I can’t seem to stop the voices that whisper in my mind. Yet, all of that combined isn’t the worst of my problems.
It was March 31st of last year. I ended, not only one’s life, but my own. It was an accident that would later be ruled out as a manslaughter. I remember it just like yesterday, not just because i’ve been reminded every night but because it was seared into my mind like a bad burn. At age 18 I was like every other kid. Football practice filled my afternoons and parties filled my night. Drinking was never my kind of thing, I usually had a cup of beer once in a great while but nothing more. This night wasn’t going to be an exception. That was until Elena Davenport walked through the 3 story mansion doors. Elena was every guys fantasy girl. She  didn’t sleep around but she wasn’t a saint either, she was a 4.0 student but definitely didn’t have a “i’m better than everyone” look to her. Elena’s figure, in whole ,held about 111 pounds, her lips were full and always slightly parted, her hair was shoulder length with the color of the sun captured in its strands, and she had eyes that captivated anyone that gave her a look. To say the least, Elena Davenport was the sun and the moon to me. I wanted her more than i’ve wanted any girl.
That night Elena walked in, wearing a baby blue tee which hung loose with jeans that hugged all the curves her body had to offer. She came in with her two friends, which I vaguely remember, and walked straight for me. I had talked to Elena prior to this occasion, usually at the other parties I attended.As far as I knew Elena and me had more in common than anyone from the outside looking in would’ve imagined.
We spent the next few hours talking about nothing and everything. We drank about two cups each, but that night of drinking was different. Inside each cup had been a dose of ecstasy, the hallucinogenic sedative that is often used at parties, raves and clubs.It seemed the more we drank, the higher we got on life.Things that were of no humor concept, we laughed at. Soon we were crying for puppies in pounds and children starving in Africa. Our minds were racing, and our emotions were racing to keep up. Within the next hour everything became a blur. I remembered laughing, crying, trying to walk straight to my car, and then nothing..
It was as if the night sky took over my entire vision. Then, with a flash faster than a lightning bolt everything reappeared. Instead of sitting beside me, Elena was in the windshield. Her head to her hips had smashed through the windshield. Glass shards stuck out her skin, the same skin that was once smooth and untouched. Her legs lay limp on the dash within the vehicle and her neatly coated toes now look as though the nailpolish is melting away as blood drips down. This image, forever carved into my memories.  My legs were squished between the wheel and seat. My heartbeat picked up and I began having trouble trying to catch my breathing up to speed with my heart. I was suffocating… I was dying.. Then the blackness enveloped me again. I woke with bright lights, a huge headache, sharp pains in my left leg.  I move my head slightly, and slowly.
“ Mr Jacobson, so nice of you to join us,” a deep but sharp voice speaks.
I finally turn my head just enough to the right and see a man standing beside my bed.
“what… what am I doing here. Where am I?..” I croak out.
“ Well, seeing as you killed Elena Davenport, I really don’t understand it myself.. but while you are still an american citizen you do have rights…. “ I don’t hear what else comes out of the misters mouth.
I killed her?.. I killed Elena.. I killed her….
I’ve had all my cases, my hearings. I was cleared of any fault since my rich father paid off the small town’s judge and some lawyers. While I wasn’t legally labeled as a killer, I was known as the killer. Little did the people known, I blamed myself a hell of a lot more than they ever would. Every morning i’d have to look myself in the mirror and see a monster. When i started to think things were getting easier, she began haunting my nights. She’d wake me, staring into my soul with those lifeless eyes and pale lips. She’d grab my hand and walk me to this exact cemetery. She’d lead me straight to her gravesight, wait for me to look down at it, and then whisper in the quietest,yet sweetest voice..
“ You did this.”