A Letter to...

Why? This was the first question that pierced my unbelieving mind. What reason could you possibly have for deciding to take the life of my kind, generous & fun-loving friend? As it turns out, you didn't have one, did you? No real rationale. The excuse you gave - you were having a bad day. And just what was that bad day? Losing money at a casino. Your lousy day was all your own making. Not your friend's fault, whom you blamed for 'letting' you lose all your money. Not my friend's fault, who didn't even know you. Just yours and yours alone. You lashed out at a complete stranger; you left him lying in the street because you were having a bad day.

Now, because of you, there a lot of people who are going to have many bad days, including me. Days filled with sorrow, hatred, anguish, disbelief. Negative emotions that should never be associated with thoughts of my friend.

Your cruel actions have robbed this world of an intelligent, gracious and incredibly funny man—a man who thought of others before himself. A man who would have tried to help turn your bad day around, whether you were acquainted with him or not. But you never gave him that chance, did you? All you thought about was the money you lost and how mad you were at your friend that wouldn't help you get home. Your friend might not have helped you, but my friend would have. My friend would have tried to come up with a solution. If only you had asked.

I wonder, had you not been so wrapped up in your own selfishness, would you have seen my friend? Would you have noticed his friendly smile, his relaxed demeanour? Would you have seen that he was just a man making his way home? I wish you had.

Actually, my greatest wish, the one that circles my head more than all the others - is the one where the two of you have never met. He should not know you. We should not know you. Your face should not be etched in my mind, and the thought that you were the last face he saw, saddens me to my very core.

I hope his face haunts you. I hope you are tormented by this wicked thing you did. I suppose, like grief, your guilt will come in waves. Waves that will hit you when you least expect it through the course of your life. I need to believe this is how it will affect you. I need to believe that you are struggling to live with what you have done. I can't stand the thought that you might join society again without feeling any remorse.

Now, your bad day has turned into one thousand, eight hundred & twenty-seven bad days. Not nearly enough for what you did. The truth is, however, nothing would be enough. It is not going to change the fact that my friend has no more days.

© Copyright 2020 ZOE COOPER
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