Words. Words and regrets. Things were said, things that we said out of anger. But I still loved him. So much can be broken by a fight.

I was getting jealous. Michael kept hanging out with a bunch of other girls, ignoring me for days. When he finally did speak to me I was frustrated and hurt by the ignorance. After asking what was wrong with me, I blew up. I cried. He looked at me like I was an idiot.

“Lily, you know I love you! You and no one else! My other guy friends keep dragging me to their group. That doesn’t mean I want to be over there! I mean, seriously!!! What’s YOUR problem?!” Michael exclaimed annoyed.

“Michael I’m lonely. I feel deserted. I need you.” I whispered. Then, feeling the anger coming in waves, I continued. “But you ALWAYS blame it on your friends! Not that you have to spend every waking moment with me but SOME ATTENTION WOULD BE NICE!” I shouted in his face.

“You know what? You know what?! I’m tired of this, and I’m tired of YOU! You act like I don’t care about you when I do!” Michael spat.

“Then act like it!” I retorted.

“Fine. That’s just fine. But right now I need a break…from you.” Michael said, furious.
“Fine! I don’t care! Just leave!” I screamed, and turned.
With one last flourish, he left my house in an instant. I stood stock still not knowing what to do. So I just plopped on the couch and did what any 16-year-old would do. Cry.

Ringing. In my ear. The phone. I woke up groggily from my sleep on the couch. Looking at the clock, I saw it was midnight. I picked up the phone gingerly in my hand.

“Hello?” I stated.

“Is this Lily Walker?” the attendant questioned.

“Speaking.”

“Your friend…Michael Lettermin? He was driving down Highway 65 when his car was hit by a drunk driver. He’s…he’s dead.”

It felt like a million bricks had been chunked at my head. I sat back down, dizzy with disbelief. “What?”

“We did everything we could. I called you because when we were looking with over we saw his cell in his hand. He was trying to call you when he was hit. I’m sorry hon.”
One week later

Now as I drive to his funeral, my precious Michael, I regret. It engulfs me and suffocates me in an undesirable death-hold. I loved him and I still do. Over I stupid fight. I will forever and always regret my last words to Michael.

“Fine! I don’t care! Just leave!”