Living With Regret Read Online Free PDF Page B

do at each place. He also tells me the reason his dad drinks all the time is because his mom died soon after giving birth to him. Even though my mom makes me a little crazy, I can’t imagine what it would be like without her. It makes me sad, but Sam doesn’t seem as bothered. He says it’s hard to miss someone you’ve never really known, but he also admits he wishes he knew what it was like to have a mom.
    After a couple hours, I hear my mom yelling my name from across the field and sit up from the spot where my body had molded itself in the grass.
    “Are you going to come back out here tomorrow?” Sam asks, tucking his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts.
    I smile, thinking about the possibility of hanging out with him again. He’s easy to talk to compared to other people I know. “What time?”
    His expression matches mine. “How about two o’clock? My dad usually disappears into his shop by then.”
    I start walking backward, finding it difficult to look away from my new friend. “Bye,” I say, finally willing myself to turn around.
    “Hey, Rachel!”
    I look back, noticing he hasn’t moved at all from where I left him. His smile hasn’t fallen one bit.
    “Wear shorts tomorrow, and we can stick our feet in the creek.”
    “I’ll see what I can do.” I wave and take off running to my house with a grin on my face that hadn’t been there in a long time.
    That was the first time I spent the afternoon with Sam Shea. I used to escape with Sam, but I haven’t been to the field since I was fifteen. I’ve driven past countless times, watching the trees go by in my rearview mirror. It used to be a place for me to run to when I needed to pretend that the pressures in life didn’t exist. It’s easy to see why my mind would go there again. I wish it were that easy to escape from this.
    The door clicks, taking me away from my memory. That happens more than I’d like these days.
    A police officer walks into my room, taking slow, hesitant steps toward the chair next to my bed. I’m not surprised he’s here … just that it took this long. I killed Cory. I’m the reason he’s never going to take another breath, and I deserve whatever I have coming, even though it scares me to death.
    I’ve already condemned myself to a life in emotional prison, which might be just as bad, if not worse, than any small cell. And maybe by talking to him, I’ll be able to fill in some of the gaps in my memory. Maybe he knows something that no one else is telling me.
    “Miss Clark, I’m Officer Elroy.” He stops, watching me carefully before he clears his throat and continues, “I’ve spoken to your mom, and she told me that you don’t remember anything about the night of the accident, but I need to take a formal statement. Is now a good time?”
    I look away, focusing my attention out the window. Rain hits it, rolling down the glass, giving texture to the gray sky. It seems like it rains most days now, which is fitting to my mood. “Is there ever a good time for something like this?” I finally ask.
    “I guess not,” he replies, grabbing my attention again. He rubs his hand along his jaw. He’s older, probably my dad’s age, and his hair is speckled with gray, a sign that he’s lived through a lot in life. “Look, can you tell me the last thing you remember, before the accident?”
    Closing my eyes tightly, I recount the last memories I have of Cory. They really don’t explain much about how I got here. “The last thing I remember is sitting on Cory’s couch in his apartment. I had one more test to take before my freshman year was over, and then we were going to head back home. He was watching baseball … that’s the last thing I remember.”
    “Was that the day of the party?” He scribbles in his notepad.
    “I don’t know. I don’t remember talking about or going to any parties. What was the date of the accident? I don’t even know.”
    “The accident was during the early hours of May