"Pretty girls like you get lost in these woods all the time, Alexa."
On the night of Sebastián's annual Beginning of Summer Bash, amiable and adventurous Melody Tryniski went missing. What might have appeared as a juvenile escapade - a casual incide...
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GUILT IS A COMPLICATED emotion.
At first, the thought of doing something exciting and new brings some kind of euphoria to our fragile bodies and we don't care about the consequences - as long as the adrenaline pulsates in our blood and the promise of danger is in our actions, nothing else really matters. But then, something inside of that same body quivers from fright because it knows it did something wrong. That emotion is called guilt, and that ominous something that resides inside us is called conscious.
There are two types of guilt: the guilt someone inflicts on others, and the one someone feels when doing something wrong. Both are flaws that have existed since the beginning of time, making it part of human nature. But, as all things in life are, there has to be a good and bad side to everything, including those two types of guilt. Humanity can't live without good or bad, black or white, but we forget that shades of gray exist and that nothing's as simple as wrong or right.
I remember when I was the one who inflicted the guilt on Melody. Sometimes it was lighthearted, like when Melody refused to do something for me - even the stupidest thing like getting me water - I would reiterate how some time ago I did something for her. Other times, it turned darker. Melody would often insinuate that if I didn't confess my feelings to a certain guy, she would, so I threatened to tell Logan the truth about her.
Melody, as oppose to me, felt guilty most of the time. It started with silly things: she would borrow things from me, mostly clothes, without my permission. Of course, it ended with her hooking up with some guy I half liked, but still a guy that was with me at the time. We used to laugh about it, treating guilt as if it was an emotion we could twist and turn however we liked to.
Now, I'm all alone with memories that will forever be just that - memories, moments from the past that I can't have back. My heart is thumping hard against my chest, threatening to burst out at any moment. Something awakes in the pit of my stomach, waiting for the perfect time to come out from its hiding place. Tears are stinging my eyes, letting me know that they're present and want to be loose, but I don't let them. The memories that rush through my mind, my conscious, are there, palpable and uncomfortable, making me squirm against the wall's hard surface.
Everything combines into one thing, the one emotion that brings fright into a person's life - I feel guilty.
"---and I need to interrogate your daughter, if that's okay with her," Detective Ellis says, his voice a smooth plea.
"Absolutely not, Josiah," my father says, an edge of menace in his voice. "She just came from her funeral. She's not stable enough to answer some questions!"
Their voices sound so far away, even though I'm behind the wall that separates my living room from the house's entrance hall. I can't see my father, but I can hear the desperation in his voice, feel the swelling of his veins as he tries to protect me from the world. It was his decision to settle this in our house, away from everyone, specially the media, a familiar place so the police can see that I have nothing to hide. His ulterior motives are no strangers to me.
