evidence

First of all I apologize for this playlist. My therapist says I use dark humor as a coping mechanism. I have no comment on that.

I feel so useless. Everyone at school is going on and on about whether Maddie was a psycho or a hero or whatever. People get quiet when I walk by in the hall way. Fucking Bella Short asked me to have lunch with her today. Obviously I skipped out of there. Fuck that. Fuck no. I’m not gonna speculate about where she went with Bella fucking Short.

But here’s the thing. If she was going to run away there would have been some kind of sign, right? Like she must have caught a ride share, or a train or something, she didn’t just disappear off the face of the planet. So somewhere there has to be a train ticket, or an email or a map or something to indicate where she went.

I need to go to her parents house.

I haven’t been there yet. I’m a coward. I just don’t want to face her parents.

I like them fine. It’s just that I know that no matter how they try to hide it, and no matter how much they try to reason with themselves, there’s a part of them that thinks I’ve got something to do with this. They’ve always secretly suspected me of corrupting their perfect beautiful Madelyn.

And like in a shitty way I get it.

Look at us. On the one hand Madelyn, a straight A student, a cheerleader, on student council, with her big dreams and her big, Catholic family in their big house. On the other hand me, with my bad attitude and worse grades. And that’s not even to mention non-existent father, or my mom’s long hours at the hospital. I feel super guilty even writing any of this down because they’d never say any of it out loud — and Madelyn would be mortified to know I feel this way. But it’s been there our whole life to see.

Like when we were kids Madelyn wasn’t allowed to come to my house, I always went to hers. And in fourth grade when Barton Vance pinched my butt it was Madelyn’s idea to pin him down and cut off his hair with safety scissors, but I still wasn’t invited to her birthday party that year. And don’t get me started on the embarrassing fanfic misunderstanding of sixth grade — Madelyn and I wrote that together, but when her mother found it, I was the one who had to sit through an excruciating sex talk with our school councilor. Madelyn didn’t have to do it. Her mom assured the school that Madelyn’s sex ed was being handled in a way that best aligned with their beliefs. No, Mrs. Sexton only wanted to make sure that I got the same opportunity. The Sextons always have the best intentions.

The list goes on — first time we got caught smoking pot? My fault. First time we got caught sneaking out? My fault. Madelyn being grounded essentially just means that she’s not allowed to hang out with me. And don’t even get me started on the whole Madelyn’s a lesbian thing because that had absolutely nothing to do with me, and yet, when she came out to her family guess who wasn’t allowed to interrupt several long weeks of “Sexton family bonding.”

At this point her parents love me by sheer exposure, and I know that, and it honestly feels terrible to be writing this shit down at all because it isn’t totally fair.

My ultimate point is this: I can’t face her family because I think they’ll blame me for this.

The even worse point that’s hiding under that point, the point that’s turning over and over in my head: if I had noticed there was something wrong, or if I’d spoken up about the shit I did notice, maybe she’d still be here.

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