The First Line 2018 - part 4

Winter:

As she trudged down the alley, Cenessa saw a small doll. It was lying in a pile of snow. She stopped for a second, looked around to see who might have dropped it. Walking ahead of her was a family of three. A mother pushed a stroller and held a man's hand while a small girl jumped around them, hollering and laughing.
      Cenessa picked up the doll and ran up to the family.

      "Might you have dropped this?" Cenessa kneeled in front of the little girl.

      "That's Larissa!" The girl shouted happily.

      "Really." Cenessa looked at the doll. "Hello, Larissa, I'm Cenessa." She looked at the girl. "What's your name?"

      "Michelle!" The girl applauded and reached for the doll.

      "Thank you. That was kind of you." The father put his hand on Cenessa's shoulder as she stood back up, and smiled.

      She watched the family walk away and for a moment forgot what she was on her way to. That's when she remembered she wasn't supposed to tell anyone her real name. Rowan had told her strictly not to. Oh well, she thought, they didn't seem too dangerous.

      She had been cooped up in that place for so long now that she was so happy to be out. She suddenly remembered she had somewhere to be.

      It was her first day of freedom.

      I had finally convinced Rowan to let her go.

      I watched her from a distance. I didn't want to go to close yet. There were too many people around. I didn't know where she was going so I followed her, sneaking around the corners and keeping my distance.

      This was the last thing I had to do before I could go. My new life was all packed in a bag in a car waiting to go to the airport. I have a flight booked in my new name early in the morning. I couldn't wait for the new chapter to begin.

      Last week I set Mike's house on fire. I had sex with him after he gave me my passport and all that, and then I drugged him to make sure he stayed in there. It was harder than I thought to do it that time. And when the house was on fire I felt a tear run down my cheek.

      I must be losing my touch. Only the binder knows how many lives I have ended, I've lost count, and now all of a sudden I start getting emotional. It's a good thing I'm getting out.

      But I had to do this last mission. From what I had gathered there was compelling evidence that would be crucial in a conviction in the case of Cain's shooting. Rowan assured me I would be the first to know as soon as the time came. But until then it was safer if as few as possible knew. Sometimes Rowan would go on trips without me, always with a good excuse and other important tasks for me to do at the station. I trusted Rowan with my life, so I never thought much about it before. But recently I'd started wondering. I felt like he kept something from me. At the same time I refused to believe it.

      About the binder, and my house. I owned the house, it's tiny and not worth a great deal. What do the real estate people say? The house is in need of some love, meaning it's about to fall to the ground. So instead of going though the business of selling it and having to explain that to people I decided to just leave it. And I've laid out all that Rowan and the others have to find. My confessions in the binder. I left the bag of money in the cellar, though. So I just have to swing by and get that before I head to the airport. I think the bag's safer there than in a car on a public parking lot. They are not going to find her for a couple of days, possibly tomorrow, but by then I'm long gone.

      I would have put the money in the bank, but you can't really walk into a bank and say you want to make a deposit of three million dollars, can you? I'll have to figure that out when I get to where I'm going.

      For a second I thought I had lost her and started feeling my heart pound in the chest. But a small crowd of people dissolved and there she was. I drew a sigh of relief.

      I kept following her for at least another hour. She'd go into shops and I would wait outside. Still too many people around. Eventually she seemed to be done shopping and started walking into an area of apartments. The adrenaline was pumping in my body when I followed her into a building. Two flights of stairs and she unlocked a door. She opened the door and that's when I rushed up the last steps and pushed her through the doorway into the apartment. I closed and locked the door, took out a knife from a shoulder bag and kept my eyes on her, all at the same time. She stared at me, strangely calm, I thought to myself as I took a couple of steps closer.

      "Do you know who I am?"

      "Allie. Police. You visited me, that first time Andrew... I mean, detective sergeant Rowan came to see me, at the psych facility."

      "That's right." I nodded. It struck me a tad strange that she called him Andrew, but I couldn't let her see me weaken. "Do you know why I'm here?"

      "You're pointing a knife at me..." She shook her head. "Do you want something from me? I don't have anything! Whatever you want, take it!" She gestured towards the living room.

      "Do you think I'm stupid?!" I heard myself screaming. "You want me to go in there so you can just stroll out the door? Yeah, I don't think so, missy!"

      I took a step closer and held up the knife.

      I must really be losing my touch. There was a strange calm around her, as if she wasn't scared. Why isn't she screaming and kicking, trying to get away? I could stick the knife in her any second and she is just standing there.

      "I have some jewelry in the bedroom." She whispered.

      "I thought you said you didn't have anything?" I was close enough to her now to feel her breath against my cheek.

      "I know... I'm sorry. Please... There's a box in the wardrobe... I inherited... gold necklace... diamond ring..."

      "I'm not really here to take things from you." I placed the knife against her chin and let it slide toward her left ear. "But since you want to give them to me, I guess I'll accept. What a sweetheart. Show me!"

      Slowly she turned us around and started walking towards the bedroom.

      Afterwards I realized I should have known.

      It was all planned. A trap. And I walked right into it, and did exactly what they had thought I would do.

      They were waiting in the living room. When we turned towards the bedroom I would follow her, and the living room entrance was behind me, making it very easy for someone to jump and grab me. And as that someone did I dropped the knife.

Looking back - 2006

I decided I needed to be closer to him if I was going to be able to convince him that I was the one for him, and not those women. Distance is what broke us apart. Distance and a blonde naked girl.

      So after becoming a Detective in the end of 2006 I asked to be transferred to Providence Police Department. I found a house close enough to him to be able to easily keep track of him. And still it was far enough so we wouldn't run into each other if this all backfired. But it wasn't going to do that. I loved him, he loved me, and once he saw me again he would realize that.

      It took me a couple of days to get up the nerve to go to see him. It was a sunny, but cold day in January. I had butterflies in my stomach when I rang the doorbell.

      He was surprised to see me. "Of course I remember you," he said. "You were my teen love, I loved you. But we've grown up. I haven't seen you in ten years. You look good though." He smiled and I could see how he got the ladies falling at his feet. That smile and this house. I took a step closer and told him I still loved him, and missed him. I even tried to kiss him. He gently pushed me away and said that I should probably go.

      I tried a couple times more. Went to his house, told him I loved him, that he was the only one for me. Every time he seemed less and less interested to hear me out. The last time was eight years ago.

      Something inside me snapped and I became obsessed with knowing everything about him, what he did, who he saw, especially who he saw.

      I would sit behind some bushes conveniently situated on the empty lot opposite his house. I brought a pen and paper, and wrote down the number plates of the cars coming and going. Later I would do a search at work and see who the cars belonged to. By Christmas last year I had a list of about a million women and I decided this could not go on.

      And that's how he ended up on my list along with the murderers, rapists and drunk drivers.

      And that was that.

Present day

      "When did you figure it out?" I'm looking at Rowan sitting across the table. I had been in the interrogation room so many times, but never on this side.

      "I'm not sure. When I went to see Cenessa again without you she told me she had recognized something about you."

      "So what was the compelling evidence?"

      "A video. She had the sense to make a video on her cell phone when she was hiding outside Cain's door. We didn't see it was you at first. But a couple of weeks ago I saw you wearing the sweater and the baseball cap the person wore in the video. So I pieced it all together. All the questions and you being so persistent to let her go. I decided to try the theory and you fell right into the trap."

      I lean my head in my hands against the table and sigh.

      "And we've found some really interesting things at your house."

      "I won't say anything else without my lawyer." I sit back up and cross my arms in front of my chest.

      "That's probably a very good idea." Rowan gets up out of the chair. "You know. I have loved and trusted you for more than a decade. I have had you over for dinner in my house, with my family, my kids, so many times. I have cried on your shoulder and you've cried on mine."

      I look at him and feel a lump in my throat, and tears rolling down my cheeks. There is something so utterly upsetting and sad about what he just said.

      "But for some reason I always knew you'd let me down in the end." He gazes at me with a surprisingly contented look on his face.

      He walks towards the door, opens it and turns around and throw a final glance at me. He smiles.

      "You know what? I'm finally going on that vacation that I've been talking about. I've taken six months off work. Betty, the kids and I are travelling around the world. We're leaving next week."

      "Haha!" I laugh. "How are you going to pay for that? You're always complaining about not earning enough."

      "Guess?" He winks at me and walks out the door. Instead of closing it he pops his head back in. "Like I said, I found some interesting things in your house. Actually about three million of them..."

THE END

The First Line 2018 - part 3

Fall:

The window was open just enough to let in the cool night air. I was sitting at the desk in the spare bedroom. There was a typewriter in front of me and a large cup of cinnamon tea beside it.

      I looked out the window. The ground was covered in orange as the leaves were falling from the trees. For the last week or so I did my best in trying to put off having to go out to rake the leaves. I figured that if I waited long enough perhaps Mr. Grayson next door would come over with his big, loud leaf blower. Although he is the sort of man who annoys about what the neighbor's garden looks like, I couldn't really see that happening.

      "I'll do it tomorrow. I'm busy here." I smiled and took a sip of the tea.

      I looked at the blank paper in the typewriter for a minute. Then, I started writing.

      "I have taken it upon myself to correct the wrongs of the court system. In my first years on the force I quickly realized that there are a lot of faults in how things are being dealt with. Guilty men and women are being let go without so much as a fine. Something had to be done."

      I took my fingers off the typewriter and read what I had written.

      I had been overjoyed when I found the typewriter in a vintage shop on the way home from a road trip about fourteen years ago. I always wanted one and this one was perfect. Mostly it just stood on the desk making me feel guilty for not typing on it, but on occasions such as this, it was put to hard work.

      Ever since I had started I had written down the facts. What they had done to deserve it, what the courts didn't do and finally how I made it all right. I put the papers in a binder labeled "Correcting the wrong".

      In the beginning I sometimes asked myself if I was doing the right thing, but it was always as though something spoke to me and reassured me. I knew I was doing good. Someone had to do it. That's just the way it was.

      Take my first victim for example. Clyde, something, was on trial for raping a twelve-year-old girl. His friend was even filming it. And still the court let the bastard go. Lack of evidence. He destroyed her life, so I destroyed his. Easy.

      But I knew I wouldn't be able to go on forever. Soon somebody would be on my tracks. I was pretty sure I had been able to keep Rowan off my scent. But he's clever, eventually he'll figure it all out. And when he does I will have to kill him. I don't want to kill Rowan. I love him.

      So I've decided to get out. My latest mission turned out to be more worth-while than just the satisfaction of putting a true asshole to the eternal rest. It turned out the guy had a whole bag of money hidden in the attic. I had always wanted that to happen, which is why I always searched the houses when the deed was done, but never in my life thought it actually would. I figured nobody knew the money was up there, so I took it. Three million two hundred thousand dollars. I couldn't believe it when I had counted it. The asshole gave me a way out. It always makes me laugh thinking about it.

      Being on the force has more advantages than being able to get rid of evidence and throwing out clues to have them looking in the wrong direction. It was pretty easy to check if the money was part of any investigation, no serial numbers provided was found in the data base. I wondered, where he had got that money. I wasn't going to find out, they'd probably want it back. I'm not completely stupid after all.

      So the letter in front of me was the start of the end of one era and beginning of the next. I just had a few more things to get done.

      I had a guy, Mike, who was going to set me up with a new life, a new passport and birth certificate. He, of course, would no longer be when it was all done. The plan was to burn down the whole house, just in case. I had no idea what was in there. I couldn't risk anything, not now that I had gotten this far. It was a pity, he was a pretty nice guy. I had had many good times with him in the sack. But, it couldn't be helped.

      Also, the witness of Mr. Leo Cain's shooting had to go, too. I hadn't quite figured that one out yet. She was still put away in that high security facility. There was no way I could do anything there. Believe me, I have tried. I can't get in without Rowan and even if I could, those retched guards wouldn't leave us alone. Plus of course, it would be impossible to bring in a knife or gun. In all my years I had never seen a place like that. Although it made my task so much more difficult, it gave a sense of satisfaction, perhaps they were on the right path to doing right. If they would stick to locking up the right people, of course.

      I changed tactics a while back and since then I had been working hard at trying to convince Rowan to let her go, that she would be safe. I mean, nobody had tried to visit her, nobody knew where she was. I was pretty good at making arguments on the spot, but so far he hadn't budged.

      A thought had crossed my mind. If I were to replace Rowan at work, I would be in charge and then I'd be the one calling the shots, and I could get Ms. Williams out and deal with her. But for that to happen, Rowan would have to get really sick, retire or... die. I couldn't bear the thought of him being gone. I just couldn't.

      "So, where was I..." I read the lines on the paper again, and kept writing.

      Two hours later, when the tea had gone cold in the cup, the sun had set and the rain was pouring down, I wrote my name at the bottom of the page.

      "Sincerely, Alisha Brown"

      I pulled the paper from the typewriter and put it in the bottom of the pile on the desk, took the white linen gloves off my hands and put them on top of the pile. When I started writing down my deeds I wore gloves, in case someone ever found the binder I would always be able to talk my way out of it since my fingerprints weren't on it or the pieces of paper inside.

      Before I leave I will make sure all traces of me and my fingerprints are gone from all systems. I know people everywhere and anything can be done. Especially with a lot of money in a bag. And if that doesn't work there are always other ways.

      I yawned.

      Now, what would I do about Ms. Cenessa Williams?

Looking back - 1998

When college was over and done with I was finally free. Although, Leo was no longer mine. That kept me up crying at night. Had done since that awful day.

      I moved back to live with my parents in Baltimore, and tried my best to forget about Leo and worked my - excuse my language - ass off the summer of 1998. Waiting tables, doing dishes, washing sheets, making beds, cleaning hotel rooms, I did all the jobs I could get my hands on. I sometimes worked eighteen hours straight, and drank liters of coffee to stay awake.

      I had never really thought much about what I wanted out of life, what I wanted to be when I grew up. My father was a cop, but I always tried my best to do everything he didn't want me to do. Except for choosing my own college, I succeeded most of the time. So cop was never an option for me.

      But then came the worst day of my life.

      On September 29^th, two days after my 22^nd birthday, my parents were driving home from work. The road turned, a truck driver asleep at the wheel didn't and my parents' car smashed straight into the truck. They died long before help arrived. I later found out the truck driver had been drinking.

      So that was that.

      But instead of mourning, instead of burying myself in my own despair, I decided to do what it took to walk my father's footsteps. I would make him proud.

      I would become a cop.

      I would put people that drove around killing others behind bars. Murderers. Rapists. All of them, behind bars.

      I breezed through The Maryland State Police Training Academy in Sykesville and I did my field training in Annapolis. I stayed on there for six years working myself up the ranks as best as I could.

      Sometimes I would find myself thinking of him, for no reason. I would see him on the street. On the bus. In the grocery store. But it was never him.

      My best friend. My lover. My Leo. What was he doing? Was he missing me?

      One day I put his name through the search engine at work and there he was. Still in Providence. I memorized the address and asked my boss for a couple of days off.

      I drove to his house. It was enormous. I sat in my car looking out for hours.

      He came home, driving a silver BMW. He got out of the car and glanced around. For a second I thought he saw me. He went inside. I stayed out there for another hour.

      At the moment I decided to go another car arrived. A woman got out. He met her at the door. They kissed. I decided to stay a while longer.

      An hour and a half later the woman left.

      Half an hour later another car drove up.

      I didn't want to see anymore. I drove back to my hotel and drowned my sorrows in a bottle of ridiculously expensive champagne.

      The next day I drove back home.

To be continued...

The First Line 2018 - part 2

Summer:

      "I wanted you to be the first to know," Rowan tentatively confided in me.

      "Okay, good. There is a witness. That's good!" I tried to smile at my partner while the panic grew inside me.

      He nodded and started pacing back and forth, stroking his chin, in front of the board.

      The board so far had some scribbled notes about neighbors' statements and a picture of a Mr. Leo Cain, shot dead in the hallway of his two million dollar mansion in Wayland. My partner, Andrew Rowan, was assigned to head the investigation and I worked closely by him.

      We are the Homicide unit of the Providence Police department. There are a couple more detectives in the group. I don't mean to be the one to blow my own horn here, but Rowan and I, we are the best in the group.

      The shooting took place three months ago and since there had been almost nothing to go on, up until now, the investigation had stood still. Yes, we had talked to all the neighbors, but funnily enough nobody had seen or heard anything. I'm always amazed by that. Maybe it's an occupational hazard, but I see, hear and remember everything that goes on around me. I thought everybody did, until I became a cop.

      The forensic team had not found any bodily fluids, apart from Cain's blood, but eight sets of fingerprints that later were identified to belong to women Cain had had brief connections with. All but one had solid alibis for the time of the shooting. The eighth woman was later cleared from suspicion. And we were back on square one.

      The guy that was shot, didn't seem to have any family. Nobody came asking about him. Some people seemed upset by what had happened at the company where he worked, but nothing major. There were stories in the paper about him, but after a couple of days it all died down and since then there was nothing. So the investigation was left under the pile of all the other investigations we had to deal with.

      I always found it strange how an innocent person could live his life fully and then suddenly not exist anymore, and how the world kept going as if nothing had happened. I saw it on a daily basis at work, and it always saddened me. But I was the same as the world in the end - I kept going as if none of all the tragedies I witnessed were real.

      And then the other day, this girl had walked into the police station, claiming she had information about the murder. As if she had appeared from nowhere.

      "We put her somewhere safe for now, and we'll talk to her tomorrow, when she's had some time to relax." Rowan stopped pacing and looked at me. "Not much more we can do today. I'll pick you up at eight tomorrow. Sharp!"

      I saluted him in an exaggerated way, as I usually did when he gave me an order. He would always nod determinedly and when we looked at each other we could never hold a straight face for very long, and we would always end up walking away giggling. It was our thing, had been for the last ten years. And I loved it.

      The next morning, sitting on the porch swing outside my house, waiting for Rowan, I was still wondering. Who was this girl? How much had she seen? Would she be able to describe the assailant? Why is she appearing now?

      I was startled by the honking horn in Rowan's car and walked quickly to get in.

      "Morning." Rowan looked over at me as he pulled away. "Sleep well? You look tired."

      "Thank you. I always love it when you say that, dear." I tried to stop a yawn.

      "I know, that's why I say it. Dear." He laughed.

      "Where are we going?" I tried to say it so he wouldn't think I was overly eager to find out.

      "You'll see. We're stopping for breakfast on the way."

      "I already had breakfast." I immediately wondered if it had come out too quick.

      "The kids were at war this morning. There was no time for breakfast."

      He looked at me like I was supposed to understand what that was like. I didn't. I didn't have kids, or brothers or sisters for that matter.

      Rowan was one of the lucky ones. Married his high school sweetheart, Betty, and now have three little ones. Jo was 12, she was just a baby when I first met Rowan. Bee, or Beatrice, was 9 and Zach was 5. Along with the beautiful house and the two dogs, Texas and Arizona, Rowan certainly seemed to have it all. He was worth it though, he was one of the good ones.

      Should anyone ask me on my death bed who I have truly loved in my life, Rowan will be on the list. I would hope I'm on his as well.

      The car finally stopped outside a large building on the outskirts of town. So many years on the force and I had never been here before. On the way in Rowan told me it was a high security psychological facility. I nodded, amazed by how I could have missed it.

      "The rich and famous pay loads to be treated here. Or, to hide." Rowan pressed the button beside the door.

      "Yes?" The voice of a man in a raspy loudspeaker.

      "You'd think if they are so expensive they'd afford a better loudspeaker." I giggled.

      "They want you to think you've come to the wrong place." Rowan stared at me. "Get your act together!" He pressed the button again. "I'm detective sergeant Andrew Rowan, I have an appointment to see Cenessa Williams."

      It took us a good half hour to get in. The security was certainly high. I was exhausted when we were told to sit down in a small room. The room had a table, four chairs, no windows and it was all-white. And I mean, all white, even the legs of the table and chairs. I found myself starring at one of the seat cushions that was bright red, and wondered how that got there. Perhaps there's a red room and the cushions had been switched, by mistake or out of spite. Somebody wanted somebody else to go mad wondering about how it got there. The whole thing was almost hypnotizing.

      "No wonder people go crazy here." I heard myself saying it and looked over at Rowan.

      "People are crazy..."

      The door opened and three huge guards walked in. We stood up. Standing in front of the guards I realized I had never in my life felt so small.

      And then came the girl.

Looking back - 1994

My father had gone to Stanford and there was no other alternative for me. So when the time came I had to go back to California, while Leo went to Brown University, in Providence, Rhode Island. Not really ideal for a loving couple such as us. But we would make it, we had to. That's what we told ourselves, and I believed it.

      The first two years were good. We'd go see each other on school holidays, talk on the phone all the time and write letters. Sometime during the third year I started realizing he didn't call me very often, it was always I who called him. And when a school holiday would approach he would say he had too much to do and that we would see each other the next holiday.

      So when fall break came around our senior year, we hadn't seen each other for six whole months, I decided to surprise him. It wasn't my best idea, I admit. But how was I to know he'd be screwing that blonde when I arrived all decked out in my finest little black dress and high heeled shoes?

      So that was the end.


To be continued...

The First Line 2018 - part 1

TFL - thefirstline.com - trycker böcker fyra gånger om året av noveller som skickats in av folk över hela världen, alla skrivna med en bestämd första rad. Fyra första rader om året. Vill man kan man skriva en följetong på alla fyra första raderna och skicka in före vår-datumet i februari. I år tyckte jag raderna passade ganska bra ihop så jag satte mig ner och totade ihop något och skickade in. Jag är rätt nöjd själv, men tyvärr tyckte de inte att de kunde använda materialet. Så jag lägger ut det här istället. Hoppas det finns nån där ute som uppskattar det!

TFL - thefirstline.com - prints book four times a year from novels written by people from all over the world, all written with a set first line. Four different lines a year. If you want you can write a continuing story on all four lines and submit before the spring date. I wrote one and submitted, and I'm quite happy with it. Sadly TFL rejected the stories. But I hope someone will enjoy it!

Spring:

Leo massaged the back of his neck, thankful the meeting was finally over. He walked into his office and closed the door. Sat in the chair looking out the window for a while. Stretching arms and legs, and trying to breath slowly.

      The boss insisted on having these dreadful meetings every Monday and Thursday afternoon. They would gather in the conference room, chat over a cup of coffee for at least half an hour before they even sat down. And once they had sat down it always took forever before they even got to the point of why they were all sitting there. Lately the meetings seemed more and more a total waste of time and Leo had been wondering how to bring it up for years.

      A knock on the door had him jumping in the chair.

      "Are you going downtown?" One of the junior associates leaned in the door and smiled carefully. "Jones said you might be."

      Leo nodded, not quite sure he wanted company on this particular day.

      "So can I catch a lift? I would really appreciate it!"

      He hadn't really noticed her before, but she was really quite pretty. Big blue eyes, blond wavy hair, dressed in a tasteful pink dress. He found himself seeing her in a different light, and lost himself in the images of her and the dress laying on the floor.

      "Can I?" Cenessa tried another smile to convince him.

      "Sure!" He got out of his chair and grabbed his jacket on the way out.

      The car ride took about ten minutes and they were spent without a word being spoken. He parked the car outside her house and looked over at her.

      Afterwards neither of them would be able to explain what happened next.

      An hour later they found themselves in her bed, next to each other, naked and panting.

      "Oh. My. God." Cenessa sat up and looked at him. "I'm speechless. What was that?"

      "I'm not entirely sure." Leo smiled. "But I think I liked it."

      "You THINK you liked it?! It was freaking amazing!" She lay her head on his chest.

      He smiled and stroked her hair.

      Her kisses. Her hands on him. The way she smelled. How she sounded. What she felt like. Her skin touching his. Her breath against his neck. The pink dress on the floor.

      "Will you stay the night?" She looked up at him.

      "I actually have to go home. I have some papers about a case I need tomorrow." He saw the look in her eyes change from excitement to disappointment and added. "Why don't you come along."

      "So I get to see where Leo the Great lives. What an honor!" She giggled.

      "Leo the Great?" He raised an eyebrow.

      "Yeah, that's what they call you at the office. Didn't you know? I'm going to have a quick shower, is that okay?" She sat up.

      "No, I want you smelling of me..." He dragged her back down and laid on top of her. "Is a shower necessary? Don't you think there is a small chance you might want to do it again later tonight?"

      "Oh, you mean..." She kissed him. "Okay, no shower." She kissed him again. "Should we get going?"

      Arriving at the house half an hour later he got a feeling of something not being right. They got out of the car and walked up to the door. Someone had left it ajar.

      "That's strange." He whispered. "Stay out here." He pointed at the corner behind to door.

      Leo slowly opened the door and took a careful step over the threshold. He stopped and listened, while Cenessa waited impatiently outside the door. He heard nothing and took a couple of steps into the house. And that's when a dark silhouette turned up from somewhere in the darkness.

      "What the hell are you doing in my house?!" Leo shouted.

      The silhouette raised a gun and pulled the trigger. One shot and Leo fell to the floor. The silhouette rushed through the hallway and disappeared out the door.

Looking back - 1983

Leo was my first love. First and only, to be honest. My family moved from Bakersfield, California, to Baltimore, Maryland, when I was seven years old. Leo was in my class. I think I fell in love with him instantly. I wanted to be with him all the time. And I know he felt the same.

      My father wouldn't let me have a boyfriend until I was fifteen. But Leo and I snuck around for a couple of years, claiming to be just good friends.

      I lost my virginity to him. We were sixteen. I hadn't been ready until then. When we finally did it I remember I was so disappointed. But it got better. It got really good. Amazing in fact.


To be continued...