Written by Hayley Douglas
I wonder what you were thinking as you sat on the hood of my
vehicle. My mind went blank and I could only dream that it was
for a good reason. I never expected you to talk to me again. Why
would you? I wouldn't have asked... I couldn't have asked if I
So I came up to you tentatively, not really believing that you
were there, wondering if it was just my brain playing tricks on
my. It's been doing that a lot lately, because sometimes I would
see you or Bayliss in the street, and when I would look again,
you would be gone. I felt sick every time that happened, I wished
the memories would go away.
But you guys; you guys were more then memories. You were my
friends, my /best/ friends. My only friends. Then. You weren't my
friend in the end, wouldn't talk to me, couldn't say a word. Just
look at me for a while, and then turn away without ever looking
You weren't even there when I unpacked my desk. Munch was there,
he knew, and he was there, but you weren't. He even hugged me,
you know. John fucking hugged me on the way out, and you couldn't
even be there. Scared the fuck out of me, thought I had lost it
already, and I wasn't even out of the building yet.
Everyone else was at the hospital, and you might have been, too,
if I hadn't known you would never go there after it all broke
open. Terri was at home, I could see that she had no where else
to go when she left the room, and she doesn't drink like I do
so... where the fuck /were/ you, Meldrick?
Honest truth? I didn't expect you to be there, guess I just hoped
that some divine power would get you to come back to me and tell
me it's okay. Even if we never saw each other again after that,
it would have helped to know that you still cared.
After that, I knew you would never come by, but as I approached
you in the garage, I couldn't help but feel that... hatred that
you never were there for me. And hate doesn’t settle well with
me, you and Terri know that, but even if you were never there to
stop me I couldn't do it.
That's right, I would sit there, at my boat, and hold the back-up
firearm to my head, but I can't forget the look in your damn eyes
that night you saved me from doing 'the deed'. Pathetic pleading
look that stopped me from being able to do it. See, I pushed
through the pain for you Meldrick, everything I did was for you.
Sure, shooting Mahoney was something I had wanted to do for a
while, but I know that you wanted it, too. That's why in the
beginning you stayed with me, because you /knew/ that had you
been in the same place, you would have put a bullet through that
bastard, too. But your self-delusion must work a whole hell of a
lot better then mine, because the feeling wore off.
Falsone, of all fucking people, too! How could you want to
partner with that greasy shit? I must have really pissed you off
to make you go to him. You even told me what a sorry loser he
So, we're standing in front of each other, just to get the
subject back on track, and the only thing I can think to say is,
'Meldrick'. Just to say your name, utter it, to /think/ it
slices through me like a gunshot. I know what one feels like, and
it's something I would like to forget.
You don't say much, and what you do say doesn't help me at all.
Just hey, how you doing? You could have probably guessed better
then I told you. I was touched, for a second, that you wanted me
to come by, but then I figured it was false. Just words, but
that's okay, too. Like I've been saying, I forgot what it felt
like to rely on you for something.
Maybe if you had said it with some common -fucking- meaning I
would have taken you up on it. You bastard, you're the worst kind
of person. You and Annie, on and the same. Get so close to me,
then screw me over. Do you know what that feels like? No, of
course you don't, because I never brought you down with me.
Because I was /there/ for /you/.
"...Thanks for not giving me your gun."
My mother said dreaming was castle building. In your dreams you
would build all of these lovely out comes, but when your palace
turns out to be a piece of shit, that sort of lets you down.
Meeting you again was like that; I had all these scenarios of how
it might play out, and it really disappointed me when it turned
out the way it did.
Did Falsone tell you what I did? To show how the girl was leading
along that boy? I bet he did. Now I'm wondering what you're
thinking /now/, about me. How does it feel to be you? Do you have
any guilt at all? I do, but for the life of me, I don't know why.
Maybe you could tell me... One day I'll try to make things right,
but not now. Ha, I need more time to build those goddamn castles.
Mike blew out the smoke and looked down at the letter. A letter
that would never be sent. He hated when he did this to himself,
even though it laid all of his feelings right out in the open, it
made him feel vulnerable. What if someone finds it? Ha, there's
no one /to/ find it.
He shoved the notebook paper into a drawer with so many others.
That god damned shrink and his fucking ideas. Mike couldn't
decide what was worse, the fact that he was using the methods, or
the fact that it helped... sort of.
The gun was a cannon, and he stared down it as fear built in his
mind. The camera hung limply from one outstretched hand, his
knees hurt from being ground into the gravel roof. The man, the
husband circled him before coming around to the back of his
"I loved my wife! I did!" He shouted, the voice echoing off the
sides of the surrounding buildings.
'Should have been more fucking careful...' thought Mike, before
the gun went off, tearing a hole through the back of his skull.