Creative Writing

I don’t regret what I did. I want to be really clear about that. The university counselor said that this is my chance to tell my story, my chance to be heard, and in my story, I don’t regret what I did. I do regret what happened. I don’t think that’s going to go away. I’m not a victim. Maybe…

Chloe was dead. Eyes glazed over, staring at the ceiling and seeing nothing. Not that white paint and drywall was nothing in the most literal sense, but it might as well have been. Endless ugly texture, blank crags and bumps. Chloe was dead. Lead limbs so heavy she should have sunk into the secondhand black comforter, into the mattress, into…