I wonder

I was only 13 years old when I met him. He was tall about 6'2", slender build, dreads, and gorgeous hazel eyes. His nickname was L.A. because that's where he was from. He had only lived in New York for a few years and already had a name for himself. I was drawn to him. There was something so mysterious and dark about him that intrigued me.

I would sneak to my best friend's house to talk to him on the phone or wait until my mom was at school. I wasn't allowed to have boys call the house just yet. It was cool because my best friend was dating his friend so I would just go hang with her and we would meet them. I knew he was no good but yet I felt drawn to him.

At first I thought it was cute when he would get jealous. I thought it meant that he really liked me. Soon it became irritating but I just brushed it off. Everyone thought I was crazy to be with "him" but I loved it. Even the way he kissed me was weird. It was hard, but yet passionate at the same time. It never went any further but I was tempted.

Soon the jealousy grew and grew. I couldn't talk to or hang out with my guy friends. He had to know what I did, who I was with, and would get mad when he couldn't talk to or see me. I got fed up and said "you are crazy" to which he replied, "I know and if you try to leave me, I will kill you." I became scared. I tried to break it off but he wouldn't let me go. Oh my God, what have I gotten myself into. So I stayed, just to keep him happy, just so I could feel safe.

It was a Tuesday night and we sat on the staircase. I told him, I didn't think we should stay together. At first he was angry but then said "you are right, this is getting crazy". I felt relieved that he took it so well. We even laughed and joked so I thought everything was okay. I was wrong. "I want to play a game" he said. "Okay" I replied. He took out a small pocket knife. "What are you doing", I asked. "Nothing just hold your hand out and let me show you a trick", he said. I hesitated but those hazel eyes got to me. I spread my fingers out and he quickly started sticking the knife on the staircase in between my fingers. Then without even looking he said "so you are breaking up with me huh"? "Yes" I replied then bam, he hit my middle finger with the knife. Just enough to break the skin but not through the bone. I pulled my hand back in pain and looked at him. He smiled and said "you are mine forever". Suddenly those eyes I loved look so evil.

My instinct kicked in and I pushed him back. He went flying down the stairs backwards. I was scared but knew I had to try to get out of here. He jumped up quickly and came rushing at me with this fist. Punch!!! Right into my stomach. I bent over in pain and called for my friend to help. He picked me up and slammed me down barely missing my head. He stood over me looking and as my friend and boyfriend ran up and grabbed him, I ran as quickly as I could back home.

I sat in my room crying, scared, shocked at what just happened. My mom was still at school. My phone rang and rang and I knew it was him. I finally answered and he said "I'm sorry, I love you". The pain I was feeling wouldn't allow me to feel sympathy. "It's over", I said. "That's what you think" said the voice on the other end. The next couple of days were crazy. I was constantly looking over my shoulder and avoiding his calls. Then one night I looked outside my window and there he was standing on the corner, smiling, looking right back at me. I thought I was imagining it but my best friend saw him too. After a few weeks, the calls stopped, the visits stopped and I figured he had moved on to his next victim. I was wrong....

To be continued.... Q