Pretty Little Bones

I've Never Lit a Match with Intent to Start a Fire

 I've Never Lit a Match with Intent to Start a Fire

My dad always said you look for what you know and all Ava knew was people taking her for granted. Everyone just used her and that seemed to be the way she liked it.

The scariest part about really knowing her was knowing that every time she walked out the door she might not ever come back. She left little pieces of herself with everyone and someday she was going to run out. And I knew it was going to happen, I just didn't know when.

It was like playing a game of Russian Roulette with a full cylinder. No matter what, we were going to lose. The only salvation was waiting to pull the hammer back and squeeze the trigger.

That's what made me resent him—the guy she started dating. The one who wanted to have sex with her until he found himself a new girlfriend who rolled over for him and spread her legs. He wasn't so bad the first time around, but when she took him back after the stunt he pulled, it became more apparent who he really was.

That's why I thought I was the one who had changed. I didn't have rehab to occupy my time; Ava was my one distraction. It was hard not to notice how bad he was to her when she was the one thing I had to keep my fingers from making mistakes.

It wasn't that he'd left her like everyone else had or that he sauntered back into her life fully expecting to be forgiven; I disliked him because he took cheap shots at Ava all the time. He was wasting bullets on a girl that didn't even try to get out of his line of fire. She cared too much to let people disappoint themselves.

When he started hanging around her again he said the only reason he'd left before was because she hadn't appreciated him enough. He deserved someone that worshipped at his alter of sin. And she was so desperate for affection that she attended his services without question, following his word blindly. Just like a goddamn self-righteous Sunday morning saint. The ones she hated with their Christian speeches and satanic attitudes.

The one that made little girls take their clothes off and busted their faces open when they fought back.

He was so bad to her. That boy was evil. Had I known how much poison he was slipping into the communion wine I might have stepped in sooner. But it had never been my business to take care of Ava. Unless her back was against the wall she really didn't need me. I was just an easy out.

And part of me didn't want to her to be okay. If she was okay, then I was the failure. If she relapsed I could too.

So I didn't do much. I hated myself for it, but pretending I'd done everything right is as useless as pretending that bad things don't happen to good people.

She took care of herself and everyone else. What was one more person? Besides, when I was around he was nice to her. It was easier to ignore the little bits she told me when we were alone because he was constantly tripping over her in public, trying to draw out that pretty smile from behind those gray eyes.

Like he was playing a role in a fairytale, he would open doors for her, push her bangs behind her ears and tell her she was beautiful, keep her laughing like it was fun instead of a chore, and paying her compliments like she was a beggar on a street corner. He was nice in public.

Or rather, he was nice to her at the start—until he found out that I wasn't just a friend.

That was Ava's problem. She took the attention off herself by projecting it onto someone else. It always seemed like her world revolved around me, because it was better to talk about her best friend than it was to talk about her life.

He didn't like that. In fact, he hated it.

Suddenly, she wasn't good enough for him and he made sure she knew that. He'd tell her that she was unclean. Her relationship with me was blasphemy and he didn't even know about what we'd done at the creek or all the things we did in my front yard. That was what made the night at the football field so great; when she went back to him a few weeks later he thought the girl that had whispered all those crazy, nasty things in my ear in the backset of my truck was a virgin.