Last week I felt the overwhelming need to go back to my childhood town and visit the park again. I hadn't done this for about seven years, not since I finally gave up on finding my best friend. We were meant to meet there first thing on a Saturday morning but seventeen years later and she still hasn't shown.
Part of me feels guilty for not showing up earlier, for not seeing where she went and being the sole reason why she was out alone in the first place. I know her family haven't forgiven me for it all these years later, I know I haven't forgiven me either.
I'd never felt such a strong urge to go back there before, like she was calling for me all those miles away and I ended up driving there at 4 in the morning. Found myself pulling into the car park nearby and watching the sun rise over fresh graffiti and well-worn swings that we used to sit on for hours on end.
There at the top of the jungle gym I saw the silhouette of a young girl waving at me before jumping off and running away towards the docks. I'd say I don't know what possessed me but I'm fairly sure it was her and she was finally ready to show me where her body's been all this time.
She led me beneath a fenced-off jetty and drifted into a hole in the rocks where I saw something pale peering back at me. One anonymous tip-off from a nearby payphone later and the police arrived, moved the rocks about and found her tiny bones.
I didn't stick around long enough to see them take her away, I prefer to remember her as she was.
I haven't felt the need to go back there again and, god willing she can now rest, I won't be returning.
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