Michael wasn't a cheerful person.
I never saw him with any friends. I only ever saw him laugh in front of his English literature paper and if I ever had a chance to take him to play, he'd always run away.
Then I saw him by chance on a street.
I don't know why I wanted to follow him, and I didn't want him to know I was watching him from a park to a restaurant until I saw him go into a bar.
The guards didn't stop him, so I tried to go in too, but they wouldn't let me.
I shouted "Michael!" at the top of my lungs, but no one answered.
The guards kicked me out, even though I told them I was Michael's friend and even though I knew what kind of place it was, but I chose to ignore it.
I went home and asked my mother why Michael could go in there, but I couldn't understand why I wanted to ask her.
Was it curiosity, or was it a chance to talk to her? It had been a month since my father died, and we hadn't spoken, not about food or going to school.
She looked at me and said, "What?!"
Yes, and that was my first mistake towards Michael.
I didn't know until he hit me because my mother went to a teacher and told him what I had told her. So the teacher called Michael and contacted his family.
When they arrived, he only had an aunt who worked as a waitress at a bar, and she was only 22 years old.
So the teacher contacted child welfare services. When Michael found out, he came to me, and it was the first time I saw him cry.
That was the last time I saw him until my graduation day.
I saw him on a motorcycle, looking at me from the university gate.
I don't know how he knew where I was or how he recognized me after all these years, but he did.
I only recognized him when he came closer and said, "Damn you, shorty!" At that moment, I cried like a little child, as if he had opened a door in my heart that I had closed out of guilt.
He stood in front of me, waiting for me to finish crying, and said he only wanted to say hello and leave, but I wouldn't let him go.
How could I leave him when I was the reason for his family's ruin, or so I thought?
But he said that childcare had contacted a wealthy family, and He finished his studies and is now in university.
He didn't look like a typical university student, but I was so happy I didn't even ask which university he was at.
The conversation was enjoyable; I learned he works at his adoptive father's company and that they are good people, as he emphasized several times. We ended our conversation with smiles and ate together. I was only satisfied when I paid the bill.
"Damn it! It's my graduation day, so it's definitely on me!"
And then we each went our separate ways with a smile
I went to my friends at the university, and after a drink at a place near the university, I was on the verge of collapse.
The barmaid held me back, and my good-for-nothing friends left me alone.
She took my phone and called the last number that had called me, which was Michael's, as we had exchanged numbers back then.
My memories ended there until I woke up in bed.
The sunshine was beautiful, but I couldn't open my eyes because of my headache.
I deeply regretted drinking alcohol, even though I had been celebrating.
The dampness of the bed didn't bother me because the shed where I live always lets rain into my room.
But there hadn't been any rain yesterday, so how did I get there? I slowly opened my eyes and found myself in a bloody bed.
I couldn't scream, or perhaps I didn't want to.
I didn't know whose blood it was, so I looked around.
It was an unfamiliar place, so I searched for a toilet, and there it was.
My first victim
The barmaid