Tears Of a Tiger: Short Story Rob's Pov

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Memoir of a Drunk Driving Victim | For Andini | Contents Part 1 3 Living 5 Dying 8 Part 2 13 After Death 15 The In-Between 18 Part 3 21 So Cold 23 Remorse 26 Part 1 Andrew Jackson. I didn’t think. All I could do was scream. I blamed you. My death You took the world from me. There was no way of me to know. You would feel the effects of my words. It was the night you dreamed of me. But that night I had been to my parents’ house. To my house. Into my room. My mother was kneeling at the edge of my bed- crying. I hated you so much. For living. So I planted this thought… I was so cold, Andy. So lonely. You should come and keep me company. It’s ironic. I wanted to fight for you to live. I was obsessed with life. Specifically yours. You needed to be with me. But… There is no salvation. Living It all started the day I was born… Isn’t that how these things usually start? I want to break from the expected and go with something more original, though, so I hope you can pay attention… What I should really say is that for me- it started when I met you. Your real name was Andrew Jackson, but no one ever really calls you that- even the teachers- so you were always simply known as Andy. When I had first seen you, I had paid you no attention, because I had this new pick with a jewel in the handle and I had wanted to use it, so I had brought it to school and was picking out my hair. And of course, here you come with that smart mouth of yours and guess what you say? “Won’t your sister get mad about you using her pick?” At first, I didn’t know what to do; no one had ever even thought about saying something like that to me. So I put my pick in my pocket and gave you the beating of your life. And as the laws of nature- or at least the laws of men- proclaimed, we were best friends the very next day. At that time, it was

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