How come it was always me that was chosen? There were so many others that could've been chosen. I'm nothing like his ideal type. But he still wanted me.

And I murdered him.

If I could turn back time and change everything that I did within the last three years, I would. And ever since I left, I've hated myself more than they could ever imagine. It's a struggle to get up in the morning and have to drive to work and to have my friend and co-worker tell me:

"You look beautiful today"

or

"You're so sweet"

in the exact tone and voice as his voice. Even though I know that Brett is just acting, it feels so real. And now that I've hit this point in my career, I guess I'm going to have to live with this guilt for the rest of my life.

Then there's that one piece of him that I took with me. Well, two pieces, I guess. But physically, only one. Why he gave it to me? I don't know. And why I still have it? I still don't know. But all I know is that it hurts whenever I read it. They're just a bunch of mixed up words on paper and I'm one of the only ones who can read it.

But why me?

But every day, I can't help but think of him. Every time I see red I think of him. And I do think of him, my heart gets lighter, my breathing becomes faster, and my lips curl up into a smile. From that point on, I can't stop smiling and I can't stop feeling good.

And then I remember I still love him.