One of these days, one of these guys is going to kill me.

These words still haunt.

It was the summer that I want entering my fifth year of University. 2001.

I had a fantastic job, working outside in nature, with kids. We were an eclectic group of people, artists, engineers, biologists. We were friends.

“One of these days, one of these guys is going to kill me”.

I can still see her face, she was beautiful, in that irish sorta way. Young, thin, smart, and witty. She had everything going for her.

We were at lunch, one of those rare lunches where we all had a moment to sit down together.

She was telling a story, a story that was funny, and had something to do with her boyfriend and buying apple pies from McDonald’s. She loved McDonald’s Apple pies.

I want to remember the details but I can’t, it’s all gone, with one sentence remaining.

“One of these days, one of these guys is going to kill me”.

I think we all laughed, she was laughing. I didn’t see it.

I didn’t see the pain in her eyes, I didn’t see that she meant it, I didn’t see that she was scared.

That was July.

On a cold Novemeber day I was home studying, my room mate and best friend was working the weekend shift.

She called and she couldn’t stop crying.

Our friend was dead.

She had a fight with her boyfriend.

He was drunk.

So was she.

She went home.

So did he.

But he returned with his Dad’s shot gun.

He killed her, and killed herself.

I wish I could go back in time.

I wish I saw her pain.

I wish…