This story means a lot to me, and I'm kind of scared of putting it out here for everyone to see, but then again, none of you know me. This was inspired by the song Take Me Home by After Midnight Project and by my feelings for a boy.

Why did you have to go? Why couldn't you have stayed? Who cares if it's wrong? We've never been ones to care what people thought about us, so why start? Were you afraid of me? Of what I might have done? Well, I guess you'll never know now, but I'll tell you anyway. I'd have kissed you. There, was that so horrible? What would you have done then, huh Mr. Pessimist? I bet you'd have passed out or something equally dramatic.

Of course, that would raise questions from the family as to why. What marvelous tale would you have spun up then? Or would you have let me handle it? Nah, you're much better at lying. After all, you lied to everyone for the past three years. Even me. God, why didn't you just tell me? You didn't have to go to the knife. I was your best friend. Didn't that mean anything to you? Did you ever stop and think about me? No, you probably thought Rachel would just kiss it and make it better. And I wish you'd quit comparing yourself to her. That's all you talked about in your letter. How she's so perfect and you're trash. Of course you're never going to be like Rachel. She's the opposite gender and drop-dead gorgeous! But she's also shallow, petty, and boastful, all things you could never be. You didn't have to throw away your life for something fake. Can't you see that I didn't need perfect? I just needed you. As mushy as it sounds, it's true. Even if we'd have had to run away, I'd have still have been happy. As long as we could have fallen asleep together.

Not that it matters now. You're gone and I'm stuck here. You know, it was really kinda stupid you decided to end your life in our house. The cops haven't left us alone since. They're determined to prove it was a murder. They even took Mom and Dad to the "interrogation room". I'm probably next. Of course, I haven't shown them your letter. If I get desperate then I might give it to them, but until then I want to just keep it between me and you. Our last inside joke.

Savannah brought up the "rotting wood" joke up a few days ago. She said that that old bench will have one less boy to weigh it down now. I bet she'd never been hit so hard before. Nobody really blamed me though, which surprised me since they're usually on my case all the time. Maybe they all felt sorry for me. Rachel has been trying to be my shoulder to cry on for the past few days. Not that it helped much. Every time I think of her, I think of you. Of what we did to you. What I did to you.

You do realize I killed you right? Yep. If I'd never had met you, you'd still be alive. You'd wouldn't have gone through all that pain. Who knows, maybe you'd have found someone else, someone who wouldn't rip your heart out every time you looked at him. You know, they say, "Home is where the heart is." but they never say what to do when your heart is gone. That can't be good for the home.

Mom said I've been losing weight. It sure does feel like it. I've probably cried three gallons in the last two days and haven't eaten hardly anything. Don't tell Dad though, he'll get onto me for being a sissy. He said he's glad I'm going to start school soon, get my mind off your death and on to the real world. That actually made me laugh. As if. But, like a good boy, I just nodded. Yes sir, said the puppet.

It gets tiring, you know. Acting like you're okay, when you can barely keep the knife off your wrist. I know how strong you were now. I'm tired though, love. I can't do this much longer. I know you'll never get this letter, but if by some miracle you do, come down and take me home.

Love, Jordan

...for Taylor...