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The axe fell this morning. Brittney came by before school. I was shocked, frankly, to see her in my doorway and I’m sure the apprehension was plain on my face. She didn’t come too far into the room and had her arms folded on her chest. Apparently she had read my letter and the journal. One of the first things she asked was that I make the journal less public. I told her I’d delete it on the spot.
I can only recall fragments of the conversation. I couldn't take it all in. There was so much I wanted to say, and ask, and know, but she hadn't come to talk. She'd come to deliver her message.

She said she appreciated that I’ve been trying to reach out to her. But that she needs me to respect her need for distance. We can be civil.

She’s not sure if she believes me, because she says there was a video of me adjusting the camera. I was speechless. I didn’t realize it looked like that to her.
When I mentioned, “If you don’t believe me that it was an accident . . .” She replied, “It’s not a matter of believing.” I made her feel unsafe in her own home. It felt like a violation. That’s something she may never get over. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to trust me again.

Her: “It’s not that I don’t have fond memories of our friendship . . .” and she even thanked me for what I wrote, about her big heart. But maybe she gave off the wrong impression with that, maybe she needs to change that about herself.
Me: "No, don't let me change you. Please don't let this change you."

Me: "I deserve all of this pain, not you. I fucked all of this up."

“I don’t know if you even read my letters,” to which she replied, “I’m not an asshole. I read them.”

The truth is that camera was there for days and you never mentioned it. You never told me, “Heads up.” The truth is that you left a camera in my bedroom.
I forgot about it. I didn’t even think about that thing. I was drunk and high when I left it there.

Her: “I’m sorry to do this first thing in the morning.”
Me: “No, thank you for finally telling me. The not knowing was . . . miserable.”

Me: “What do you want from me now? What do you want me to do?”
Her: “That’s just it. There’s nothing you can do.”

Me: “Can I please say what I haven't been able to say in person yet? You are the best friend I’ve ever had and I never wanted to do anything to hurt you like this. I swear on my life that I did not get that camera to use on you. If there’s anything I could do, and I know . . . I know there's probably no hope of this, but if you ever can forgive me, if you ever-- I will always consider you my best friend, Brittney and I would do anything to save our friendship."

It’s not the answer I’d prayed and hoped for, but at least it’s an answer. I almost feel . . . better now that I know.


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