I have killed. The blank empty faces of all my victims haunt my dreams and lie, rather pathetically to you, saying that I dreamt of our mother. Being who you are, Megs, you take my word for it. Every single time you soothe my forehead after every haunting nightmare, I curse myself over and over again for being the hateful human I am and for slowly tainting you with my poisonous lifestyle.

The one murder I regret the most is of Jillian Foster, 34th Avenue, Oakview. His is the first innocent life I claimed, and I remember his green eyes, looking up at me, pleading for mercy, for a chance at life. And I, being the monster I am, denied it. He had a life ahead of him, and I took it away. He had sky-high dreams, and I brought them down. He had aspirations, ideals and ambitions, and I ended them all with a single bullet.

Megs, I can't face his family, but you can. I want you to see them, talk to them and know whether I have been forgiven. I need a shot at redemption. If not, ask them to forgive me. Tell them that I, being blinded by what I wanted in life then, regret pulling the trigger.

Megs, I remember the countless times you held me close, promising to ward off my nightmares with your bare hands, despite knowing what they are. Would you protect me from my nightmares now? Would you even dare hold me close?

It could be anyone. From your brother to your best friend to a stranger on the street, anyone can betray you. Lies are easy. The truth is hard. The betrayal can hurt you harder, it can weigh you down.

You shouldn't trust someone so blindly.

//////

Simply saying 'I ran late' is an understatement.

It does not cover the speed of lightning with which you brushed your teeth, the near frozen experience you had when you forgot to check your baths temperature, the mad rush when you are putting on your shirt and tying your hair at the same time, and it definitely does not cover the time I spent puking out my breakfast because I forgot to throw away the three-week-old milk.

But that's the only thing I can say to Maxie, since she looks like she is seriously reconsidering her decision to hire me.

Which she should.

If I were her, I would. It's my first day at work, and I am already two hours behind schedule, with pillow hair that I still had to get rid of. And of course, the fact that I still look a little green.

'Maxie, I'm sorry, really. I won't repeat this again.'

Maxie tilts her head to the side, 'I wonder if it'll ever change, Megs.'

As much as I want to argue with her, to tell her that I wasn't responsible for the problems I am facing, to make her understand the monsters I face; I don't. I can't. Not now. Not when I needed this job so bad.

'Please, Maxie.'

Maxie sighs, but it sounds resigned, as she just gave up.

'I can't have you working the waitress shift today, not with that face. I can't deal with you puking all over a customer–'

'Hey,' I protest, 'I have good control– '

' – but you could do the dishes today, for a start. Rex can help you.'

Rex happened to be Maxie's twin brother, and I don't consider him good company – not when he is using me as a dry run for his pick-up lines.

Grateful that I'm not getting fired on day one itself, I decide to endure the torture.

'Aye, captain,' I say. 'I all set!'

//////

Five hours and a lunch break later, I'm still scrubbing.

'I am not getting the hang of this,' I mutter to myself, 'My hands are going to fall of any second now.'

Rex stands next to me, loading the plates into the dryer. He has a pudgy face, so unlike Maxie, and a round potbelly, to go with the look. He has a balding patch smack in the middle of his round head, though he'll deny it.

He points to his chest.

'Megs, what do you see?'

I resist the urge to groan.

'Uh... your dirty overalls?'

Rex scrunches up his pudgy nose.

'Nah, try again.'

I roll my eyes.

'What do you want me to see, Rex?'

'My heart, proclaiming its undying love for you.'

I snort. 'That's not even a pick-up line, old boy.'

'Maybe it isn't a pick-up line,' Rex says, matter-of-factly. 'Maybe it is the truth.'

I stop scrubbing, trying my best not to let my jaw fall to the floor. I turn to face Rex. He looks at me with concern. He's the same age as Maxie, which I presume is around his early forties. I suddenly had a rather vivid vision of me holding Rex's hands as we stand facing each other on the church aisle. As much as I would consider him an acquaintance and at the maximum, a friend, I never expected him to come up with such a dramatic proclamation. I felt the need to throw up again.

Rex starts laughing.

'You should've seen your face!' He guffaws. 'Priceless. But hey, is me loving you such a sick idea?'

I don't reply. I turn around and puke my guts into the sink.

Maxie's right. I don't have control.

/////

It's almost nine by the time I leave the diner. I had signed up for a 10-hour workday, with a two hour break in between, but today, I ended up washing the same dishes twice, after I puked all over them again.

My hands ache, and by the time I make it to my apartment, I'm ready to call it a day.

That's until I see Aidan's letter at my dresser.

Determined not to think about him, I snatch up the letter and go through the first words.

I have killed.

I feel an unfamiliar ache in my heart. It doesn't go away, even as I shrug off my clothes and pull on one of Aidan's hoodies. I try to breathe in, burying my nose into the fabric, trying to get a whiff of how he used to smell, trying to calm my fraying nerves and null the ache in my chest, but I get nothing, except the scent of the conditioner.

I reread the address, though I know it by heart.

Jillian Foster. 34th Avenue. Oakview.

I slam my door shut, and grab the first bus to Oakview.

It's with a sense of dread that I turn into Oakview street. When I stop in front of the house decorated with fairy lights, wreaths and whatnot, I just stand there, right on the doorstep, not knowing what to do.

It's Christmas for Pete's sake. Just because there are some sorts of phonies like me who don't have the happy time, it doesn't mean that Jillian's family doesn't. They must've put all the bad memories long behind them. I mean, it all happened like three or four years ago.

Do I really have to do this?

Yup.

Was I going to gain something from this?

No.

Is it going to dampen their mood?

Definitely.

I got to go ahead and do it, right?

Right.

For Aidan.

Definitely not for Aidan.

No matter what, I found it disturbing that I was doing this for Aidan, no matter how much the letter stated otherwise. Nope, I was doing this to rest my consciousness. I was doing this for me. I was doing this to free myself from the knowledge that my brother could've been a probable murderer.

I was doing this for Jillian.

Steeling myself, I knock on the door before I could change my mind.

No response.

Well, that was unexpected.

I knock again. And again.

'Coming,' yells a voice. 'You don't have to break down the door.'

The door opens with a creak. A woman with warm brown eyes and thick brown hair stands behind it, her face lit with a smile.

I am so gonna wipe that smile off her face.

'Hi, my name's Mindy.' She frowns, somehow keeping the smile intact. 'Oh wait, I shouldn't have told you that. You could be a serial killer for all I know. Coming to think of it,' she leans forward, catching me off guard, 'do I know you?'

I stumble, not knowing what to say.

Mindy narrows her eyes at me. 'You are not a serial killer, are you?'

'What?' I shake my head in disbelief. 'No, no, obviously. I am a friend of Jillian. Uh, was.'

Just as I predicted ,the smile drops off her face. It is replaced by a look of concern, and that was something I didn't expect either.

'Oh dear, we certainly didn't expect you. What's your name, sweetie?'

'Meghan,' I say simply. I fidget, shifting from one foot to another, pulling the lapels of my hoodie closer.

'Where are my manners,' Mindy says, smiling again. 'Come on in, Meghan. Make yourself at home.'

She pulls the door open all the way, revealing an even more decorated room, if that's even possible. Reluctantly, I follow her in.

'Take a seat, sweetie,' she gestures to one of the plush sofas, 'I was just baking some cookies. You aren't allergic to cookies, I presume?'

I shake my head in the negative. She flashes me another smile.

'Let me go get some okay? Mindy's Christmas Cookies,' she says with a theatrical flourish. Then she saunters away to somewhere I think is the kitchen.

Okay, so I had expected a batty old lady, opening the door at the first knock, yelling at me when I mention Jillian, crying oceans, pushing me out of the house, and definitely not treating me to Christmas cookies.

Before I could get my sorry butt onto the sofa, the fireplace catches my eye. The mantelpiece is decorated with many photos. I walk towards it, dragging my feet in the process.

The first one is a shot of Mindy and a guy. They're smiling, wide, at the camera. The second is a photo of Mindy in a purple gown and the guy in a tux, and if I were to guess, I'd say it had been their wedding. The third one shows Mindy with a pregnant belly, the next one, the couple holding a baby in swaddling blankets. The next few pics track the growth of the boy alone, a toddler standing up, a preteen covered in dirt and holding up a soccer ball, a teenage guy bring home his first girlfriend. The last pic was a clear head shot of a really handsome guy with Mindy's brown hair and bright blue eyes. He was smiling cockily, as if he knew he was handsome, and was proud to show it off.

Jillian Foster.

I reach out, touching the frame with my fingers, tracing the piercing eyes, the chiseled jawline and the perfect dimples.

'He had his granddad's eyes.'

I turn to find Mindy setting down a plate of cookies.

'He was handsome, wasn't he?' she sighs. 'He was one of the best looking guys I had known.'

I walk back towards her.

'What had happened?' I ask.

Mindy shakes her head, sadly. 'Even though Jillian had been good looking, I couldn't say the same about his behavior. Frank demanded a divorce when Jillian was six and it had been hard on him. After that, I just, uh, distanced myself from the world. That had been my way of suffering. Jillian, well, he did what any troubled sixteen year old would do. He wanted something that could give him happiness, the feeling of peacefulness, however momentary that was. He took to drugs.'

I knew it was hard for Mindy to talk about it, so I took her hand in mine.

'Mindy, sorry, you don't have to –'

'No, no, I need to get this out. It was somewhere around that time he met Aidan.'

'Aidan?' I choke out.

Mindy turns to look at me. 'Yeah, he was his new friend. Met him at the pub when he forced Jillian not to drunk drive. Funny, he had said that Jillian was too young to die.'

Mindy inhales sharply.

'You know, at first I thought Aidan was the solution. They were hanging out together, Jillian was staying away from the drug business, he was taking an effort into studying, hell, he even bought home a girlfriend. I thought things were going to change.'

Mindy sighs and gestures to the cookies. 'You should try them.'

At a loss for words, I open and close my mouth like a dying fish.

'It's ok. It's story time, anyway.'

Gingerly, I pick up a star shaped cookie.

'Well, good things don't last. I, of all people, should've known that. Aidan took him away from his self-destruction to lead him to another one. Honestly, I would've preferred he died from drug overdose, rather than.... Rather than having his best friend kill him.'

I squeeze her hand in reassurance. 'I'm sorry.'

Mindy smiles, though I can see the tears shining in her eyes. 'Oh, don't be. Jillian was brave, you know. He took a bullet to the head. He faced all his problems, though mostly they had been on highs, but then he, uh, did. Aidan changed him, changed who he was. And no matter what, I'm thankful to him for giving me a changed Jillian. For better or for the worse, I still can't decide.'

It's me who sighs this time.

'How did you know Jillian?'

I look back at the photograph on the mantel.

'A friend of my friend.'

Mindy narrows her eyes at me, but she doesn't say anything.

'Uh, Frank will be coming in anytime soon.'

I blink, my mind going into flashback mode.

'Frank? Didn't he get a divorce from you?'

Mindy smiles again, tucking her hair behind her ear.

'So? Does that mean he can't come visit me?'

I grin sheepishly.

'Frank's married now, and has two daughters, twins. He wasn't in love with me anymore, he wanted out, and he asked me to let him go to someone he loved. And who am I to deny him his happiness? Honestly, there had been a time when I thought that happiness was with me and Jillian, but it wasn't meant to be.'

'You mean, you are all alone now? Didn't you marry someone?'

'Uh, yeah, sorta. And no, I didn't find the right guy. Who knows, maybe I might. By the way, this guy who kinda asked me out, might be the one. Who knows?'

I smile at her, genuinely.

'It's just, I forgave everyone. And by forgiving, I meant that I'm letting them go. It's hard, it's took me years to just get over it. I forgave Frank for leaving me helpless, leaving me when Jillian desperately needed a father, leaving me shattered, broken and beyond repair. I forgave Haley for breaking my son's heart, I forgave Jerry for selling him drugs. I forgave Aidan for pulling my boy away from me, for taking him away.

'It's just, by forgiving them, I discovered what I'm capable of. I discovered that I could be strong, that I could always pick up the pieces and put them together, that I could be bruised and beaten but still stand steady.'

The doorbell rings.

'Oh, that must be Frank and Esmeralda. I'll get that.'

I get up from the couch.

'I should probably leave now, Mindy.'

Mindy opens the door, and a man in his forties, whom I recognize as the older version of the guy in the photograph, and a lady enters, with some gangly teen girls following them.

Mindy hugs Frank, then Esmeralda and gushes over the twins.

It's a family reunion, I see Mindy pinching the cheeks of the girls, cooing over their heights, Esmeralda watching them with a slightly wary look, while Frank was practically trying his best not to look at Mindy. And he was failing at it.

He looks around, and his eyes lock on me.

'Who is this, Mindy?'

Mindy looks at him, smiling again. 'That's Meghan. She was friend of Jillian's.'

Frank looks at me quizzily. I fidget under his gaze.

'Um, I was just leaving.'

Mindy looks at me with concern. 'Why don't you stay for dinner? I've made roast chicken.'

As much as the image of roasted chicken legs does appear appealing, I felt the nagging feeling of not belonging.

'Not now, Mindy. I got to run.'

I walk to the door, and Mindy gestures at the others to wait. I watch as she stands on the doorstep with me, the door closing gently behind her.

'You'll come visit again, right?'

'Yeah,' I say, shaking my head.

Mindy smiles and pats my shoulder.

'I forgive him, darling. Your brother was one of the nicest boys I knew. That's saying a lot. Some things forced him to take the path he certainly wouldn't have wanted, and you can't blame him for that. I don't do anymore.'

I look at her dumb folded. I didn't say anything that would've revealed my connection to Aidan.

'How did you – '

'If Jillian knew any gorgeous girls, he would've told me. After all,' she shoots me a wink, 'I had been his relationship expert.'

And with that she shuts the door.

And I stand there on the doorstep.

Wait, what?

--------

Okay, so here's the first chapter. This one's dedicated to @RubixCube89201 . I'm a big fan of her story, The Good Girl's Bad Boys, and I believe truly in Naomi's strength. I have fallen hard (literally!) just by reading the amazing friendship the four have, and the underlining humor in all instances. I just can't wait to read more of Naomi's adventures, along with more of her sarcastic comebacks, and not to forget; the wonderful references! Spoiler alert: I love the 'Frozen' party reference!!!! That was sooooo cool!!!!

Her book inspired me to take up a strong stand against bullying. All people are beautiful, though not all of them may appear beautiful externally. Naomi is a metaphor for all the battered, the bruised and the survivors, who exist in one corner of the world. Let them raise their voices for their rights. And let us be the first to back them up.

Later, amigos.