The Right Thing

Hey i just want to know if you could understand the story. Any critique is welcomed with open arms. Rant or rave i welcome it all. Thank you!!

The Right Thing

Five years ago I read my best friends journal and I’ve hated her ever since. Usually the feeling of anger is accompanied by an aspect of sadness. The anger I felt that day made no room for sadness, which would come years later. It was the dangerous and destructive type of anger.It blinds your judgment and erases the line between good and bad. At least I’m aware of what I do under complete anger. While others can handle anger in silence and a clenched jaw I’m more of destroy and scream type. Luckily the only thing that was damaged that day was a picture frame, some little glass trinkets and lamp. It was all very easily replaced and non-noticeable.

My mother would say that there is never a good reason to hate someone and that hate was a very strong word. While my father on the other hand seemed to hate a different person every day.While sitting at the table during dinner I remember him raving and ranting about some coworker or “friend”. But my mother allowed it; he had to work very hard and was allowed some leeway.

Ideas of revenge of course floated around in my mind and still do to this day. I never acted on any of them. My mother would have been so proud. Part of me must still consider her a friend. We did share a good few years of our childhood together. There was countless times where we would spend hours at each other homes. Best friend was not a title I gave out easily but she earned it back then. It must have been the utter betrayal of that friendship that angered me most. Not only did she betray me but my family as well and that still stings.

I’m like my father in a lot of unwanted ways. The memories I have of him before he left are not very pleasant. He was short tempered and non-trusting. But he had loyalty to his family. He was always willing to do anything to care for me and my mother. Once my father was gone I grew closer to the person who used to be my best friend. She had welcomed me with open arms. She would listen sympathetically and nod when appropriate. I thought she was the only person in the world who truly understood what I was going through.

I approached her twice after the incidents before never speaking to her again. The first time, the feeling of anger still flowed through my veins. It couldn’t have been more than a week after reading her journal. I had been ignoring her for days she seemed to be annoyed with me. At the time she didn’t answer any of the questions that were constantly running through my head. I did most of the talking during our encounter. A few seconds in I was yelling profanity’s and questions while she just watched wide eyed. She seemed blissfully unaware of what I was screaming about until I mentioned her journal. The utter realization hit her full force. A panicked look overcame her and she was the first to leave our first confrontation.

I never told anyone what I read in her journal that day. I was afraid to tell anyone, especially my family. My mother I feared would have the worst reaction. As much as I loathed my ex best friend I would never wish upon her the wrath of my usually sweet mother. My mother would definitely have used the hate word on her.My father would probably have had an interesting reaction as well. He would have used a much more colorful word then hate I can guarantee.

Sadness finally hit five years later. I thought that once my family was back to the way it used to be that maybe everything would be ok. I didn’t let myself admit it but I missed her. No one had been able to replace her and it may be that I will always have a hole in my heart that she left behind. But we would never be friends again. All our history together is obsolete it it’s not my fault. That’s what gets to me the most, that none of it was my fault.

I don’t know which night it happened on. It could have been during any of the countless sleepovers we had.She would only have to be alone for ten minutes. My mother might have called me or maybe I was in the bathroom. But her curiosity must have gotten the better of her and she sneaked a peak.

The second time we met we both were calmer but anger was in both of us now. I can only assume that her anger was directed towards me because I read her journal which seem a bit trivial compared to what she did. I told her what would always be true. I’ll never forgive you for destroying my family.”

I didn’t mean to destroy her family. I was the brave one. I did the right thing. Since the beginning of the earth parents have asked their children the question. The “if you found a wallet” or “if you see a stranger” scenarios. But what parents forgot to mention to their kids that when the day comes when you actually make those decisions everything is much more complicated.

I’ll admit I wasn’t the best at covering my tracks. My first mistake was writing it down. My second was trusting that my best friend would respect my privacy. Both were pretty stupid mistakes. I thought I was in the clear. Stupid mistake number three if you’re keeping track. I was confident that no one would ever find out it was me.

Being best friends with someone was weird. We never agreed to give each other the title of “best friend” it just kind of happened. Things were never as scary when you had a best friend. If my parents weren’t able to catch me if I fell I knew my friend would be there to help me get up. Cheesy? Very, but It gets my point across.

I didn’t go to the police right after I found out. I gave myself some days to think. On one hand I could hear the nagging voice of my mom saying make the right choices and on the other hand the possibility of ruining my best friend’s life. My mom would be the obvious choice but I love my mom mostly for the reason she fed and housed me. My mom was stuck with me with me while my best friend chose me. ius ryme get up. Cheesy? very Seattle. lues with them.the same as a whihite

I had to make this decision by myself. I couldn’t go to my mom because the minute I told her anything she would have whisked me away to the police station. She would also have forbid me ever to see my best friend again. I couldn’t go to my best friend because she would have been biased. She would also be very furious. Part of me was definitely scared of her. Probably because she broke a kids arm once in middle school for insulting her family.

I knew I made the right choice when a feeling of calm overcame me after I called the police. I felt as if the weight of the world was lifted from my shoulder. No more sleepless nights for me. I could practically feel my mom’s praise. Yeah I was a good human. I would tell my kids this story when teaching the difference between good and bad. And they would admire how strong I was. So I wrote down what I had did in my journal so that I could always remember what had happened.

All I needed was a glimpse to recognize what it was. I never saw anything so beautiful in my life. They couldn’t have been her dads. Their home was a rundown apartment and they lived pay check to pay check. She never had new toys or clothes. They were just a struggling family not that different from mine. These dazzling diamonds and jewels spoke otherwise. I took a handful of pearls and they felt smooth rolling around in my palm. I wasn’t supposed to see this, any of this. I checked the room one last time before slowly shutting the door. The gold and silver seemed to shine out and beg for me to take it.

The lights of the police cars shone through my bedroom window while the sound of sirens echoed down our street. Even if I was dead tired I would not be falling asleep soon. I heard a women crying accompanied by a man’s yells. I resisted the urge to go to my window and peak outside and see the commotion. So I laid there in the dark.

I knew I made the wrong choice when I held my closest friend while she cried into my arms. Was it really worth it? I couldn’t find anything to say. All I could do was nod and try to comfort her. Selfishly I wished someone was comforting me. All this guilt was suffocating. I had to try to act normal. So I acted as if I was oblivious and went on the everyday life.

“I was just doing the right thing.”