I cried when I heard my rescuer was dead.
I knew it was them.
They looked pleased.
They looked murderous.
They looked cold hearted.
They looked monstrous.
Yet it was also my fault.
If I hadn't bumped into them after class, they wouldn't have thrown me into the pool, and my rescuer wouldn't have saved me, knowing he was risking his life for someone like me.
And now he's gone.
He's gone from this world where his family now spills tears over an incident that involved me.
It was my fault.
I knew it was my fault.
I hated myself.
I despised myself.
I was the true killer here.
I wanted to die.