Beatings :: BECAUSE

    "Leeda told me what happened."-
    She turns to and looks back at her friend, though she doesn't say anything.
    Kate's eyes are soft and warm, they always are these days. "Sorry to hear it, hun."
    She shrugs, "Better him than me."
    "Guess so," answers Kate, stepping forward and shading the sun from her eyes. "You okay?"
    "Yeah," she answers with a bit of a smile. "I'm fine."
    "If you need to talk, just let me know. Okay?"
    She nods and smiles before saying goodbye. The rest of the staff is leaving the building. She reaches her car and unlocks it, before slipping into the driver's seat.
    Her fingers run along the steering wheel softly for a minute or two. It's stifling in the closed vehicle. She can feel beads of sweat forming over her skin -her forehead, her nose, the base of her neck.
    She starts the engine. The radio comes on and she listens to the music a little, trying to identify the song and the artist. She can't think of who it is. He could have though. He could name every song you played. He would laugh that she couldn't name any. She would laugh, too.
    Her knuckles are white as she clenches the steering wheel; the car running quietly, spewing exhaust into the sweltering summer evening.
    Before she consciously realizes anything, she finds herself halfway home. But not the home she's destined for. She's halfway to their apartment; halfway along the route that runs through the back roads. The route that took the longest to get home. The one she used when she knew what was going to happen when she got home. When she knew that she'd forgotten something in the morning, and only realized it after he'd called her cell phone and reminded her of what she'd forgotten.
    This was her avoidance. The only way she could assure a little safety.
    She stops the car and stares at the roadway. There is no going back to that apartment. There's never going to be a going back. All that their home contains is spotlessness, yellow tape, and a coroner.
    He was found dead by his brother. Suicide. Complete with notes for his family and for her. An overdose. They found alcohol, ecstasy, cocaine and acid in his system. Not enough to kill him, but combined to do substantial damage.
    It was heroine that killed him. A ridiculous amount, pumped into his forearm with a surgical syringe.
    Initially they told her it was the heroine. That's what she answered with when asked. A heroine overdose. Simple and accidental. But he knew how to use it. He knew how much he could take at one time; how much she could take at one time, too.
    Later she was told it was air pockets. Something like that anyway. She really didn't pay that much attention to what they told her.
    "If you leave me, I will kill myself." He'd threatened her many times with those words. She had believed them every time. He had never tried to call her bluff because she had never threatened to leave. And then, the first and only time she left him, he killed himself.
    Staring at the roadway, she watches the years play back in her thoughts. Every moment of silence. Every moment of anger. The hours of bliss. The minutes of hatred and pain. The weeks of tears and fear. All brought to an end because she had left him.
    How could she not be blamed for what happened? He had warned her. She ignored him and left. For anyone else, that would have been cause for deep concern. If a student uttered such a thing, the teacher would consult the parents. If an adult whispered such a thing to a colleague, that colleague would consult outside help for the other.
    He had told her that if she left, he would have to kill himself to save himself from the pain of losing her. She had always listened to him. He had never tried to hurt himself. And then, the one time she did leave, he pumped his body full of heroin and air pockets.
    She killed the man she loved. She did so willingly. She left to be safe forever. And now, she would forever remember that the direct result of her decision was the death of another person.
    How could you not look at the facts and call her a murderer?
    Because. The only word that matters anymore. Just because.