I have never felt so much pain in my life.

The blade wrenched from my gut barely scraps the surface of the broken heart tearing its way from my chest.

"Maria. . ." Magnolia stares at me. Her face is smeared with bright red blood, and her eyes hold no light. The thing that scares me most is the lack of regret, the lack of guilt. Her spear drips my blood from the tip of the silver blade.

"Magnolia." My voice is raspy and wet, like someone poured wet gravel in my throat. "Why. . ?"

\Two years prior/

"We'll get out of here," I say, staring into the sky. "I'll make sure of it."

Magnolia nods.

I cross my pinky finger over hers.

"Promise."

"Okay, then we need to get going. We need to find a way together," Magnolia says.

I grab her hand and lace our fingers.

"Let's go."

"Yeah, we need to be home on time,"

I look over at her. That kinda tense face relaxes as we walk down the streets.

"Maria, I love you, I mean like that," Magnolia says. "And like. . .I really want to know if you'll like start dating me?"

I blush kinda hard. "I mean we can try. But my parents will probably find out, sooooooo."

She smiles. "'Kay."

A day later/

I wake up and get out of bed. I get dressed and go to the kitchen and feel a tension in my chest.

a voice says in my head. "You can leave, but you can't take anyone with you, not, Magnolia, not, Elon, not, Marissa, not, Elliot, not, Emo, not, Ember, not, Alexis, not, Alex, not, Amber, not, Elf."

I nod.

I find some paper, and a pen, then walk out of the house.

I write down notes to each and every one of them and leave it at their doorsteps.

Then I run down the street as the tension in my chest relaxes.

I feel like I'm free and then poof, I'm gone.

I spend weeks weaving from small town to small town. I push away thoughts of the hurt I've caused. Leaving everything behind wasn't my first choice, but when push came to shove, I ran, because I'm a coward.

And even as faces haunt my dreams, the one that never surfaces is Magnolia's. I don't dwell on the reasons for that as I exist in the moment, surviving on whatever I can get my hands on. I head south as fast and as far as I can, pushing every day until I'm exhausted and then falling into sleep as if surrendering to the void. My days blend into each other as I seek solace in motion. I pick up odd jobs, so I don't starve and as the weather grows increasingly warmer, I shed my old clothes like I've shed my old life.

Three months after I left, I find the warm shores of what used to be Jamaica. Thankfully I didn't have to try and swim here, I'm sure I would have died trying. Instead, I scraped together enough in Miami to hop aboard a fishing vessel that was headed south.

My dreams are more like nightmares, reminding me that I am utterly alone in this world that is like my own personal hell. Whatever future I'd hoped to have even six months ago is no longer a possibility. So, I curl up into a ball at the base of a Blue Mahoe tree and slip into sleep.

...

Two weeks later I've found steady work at a cafe that serves the best coffee I've ever tasted. It's so good in fact, that I can't even complain about its diminutive size. It's the only thing I look forward to in my minimalist life.