Trouble maker. Those were the very words all my former friends’ parents used to describe me. My teens had just begun when I’d managed to push everyone away who cared about me. I had people that were like second families. They’d as good as disowned me. So, when Patty and I met, I attached myself to her like a barnacle. She was there when I needed someone.
It is 2019. I lay back on my bed, and tried to erase all thoughts of Patty. I’d had enough writing about her for the day. I tried to focus on anything else, but I failed miserably. My mind drifted to a fantasy I’d been entertaining that I might see her murderer face-to-face, the two of us sitting across from one another in the same over lit, airless courtroom. Sadly, this scenario was far from realistic, a fantasy like I said. Few cases ever make it to court. A vast majority of cases are worked out by means of a plea deal. So, even if the District Attorney felt that he had enough evidence to convict a suspect in Patty’s case, I’d likely never lay eyes on him in a courtroom. I jumped up from my bed, and turned on some music. Tom Petty’s “Mary Jane’s Last Dance” boomed from the speakers of my computer. Maybe Petty could turn my thoughts around. But no, Petty’s Mary Jane only reminded me of Patty, a girl without an anchor, a girl dead too soon.
