I don’t know how to move forward.

I want to apologize if this isn’t the place for this. I don’t want to drop my issues in a place where they are ill fitting. I want to get support from a more public place, but I want to start with Putting down a Trigger warning: Domestic abuse, violence, and death.

I met him in 2014. I was probably 14, he was probably about 12. We were in a gifted student class together. My initial impression was that he was a bit annoying and nosy. I hindsight, he probably had some undiagnosed adhd. Though I graduated free to appreciate him as one of the few people to take interests in me and my project in class.

In high school I got to know him better. His dad was out of the picture, his mom was an addict, and his teachers didn’t care about him in the slightest. It may have been due to the fact that he was one of the few black people in our rural community, but I can’t say for certain.

I saw that he wasn’t getting what he needed, and so I chose to take a more active roll in his life. I made sure he had enough to eat, drove him home and to work, tutored him, editing his book, and so much more. I wanted to see him grow into something great. I sat at his graduation, and he introduced me to his girlfriend at the party after; a young woman I had known since kindergarten. His breakups had been messy in the past, but they seemed good together. They moved away together out of state where he attended a technical school. A year or so later, they returned on vacation. I bought them dinner, and we caught up.

Two months later, he was arrested. He would eventually be charged with second degree murder. The neighbors called when they saw an unresponsive woman on the floor of their living room. Her face was swollen beyond recognition, and she had bite marks on her body. Security camera footage showed them arguing, and him hitting her with a propane tank.

When I first heard the news, I tried to search for ways he could have been innocent. What if it was self defense? What if the killer was still out there? Then I saw the mugshot. He was guilty. I knew he was guilty. He would be sentenced to 48 years for her death, and another 12 on kidnapping charges.

Its two years later now. I can’t trust anyone anymore. I want to try and build a friend group, but every time there’s that question in the back of my head. “What if it happens again? You knew him, and you were wrong to trust him. You don’t know this person. Can you really trust that they’re not a monster?” Even if I get past that, her face pops into my head, and I think “It’s my fault”.

I wish I could just forget it, all the good and bad memories that have been repainted in blood. Everything I did and didn’t do for him. Some days I feel like I should have never given that 12 year old a word; let him live and die on his own. On other days, I look at that little boy I thought of as a brother and wonder if I was close. Was I close to saving him? Was I close to changing his path enough. If I was a little better, would she be alive? Would he be free?

I buried this for two years, and now it’s all I think about from the time I wake up to the the time I fall asleep. I’m constantly terrified of these feelings, and I want to run away from them. Try as I might, there is nowhere to go. I want to let this all go, and get on with my life; but I don’t know how.