It's Just One Of Those Days....

This post is inspired by a friend who just wrote about her First Love. It was a great post too, felt like you were right there with her!

I remember my first love, well, I was only 12 or 13, so I guess it would considered more "puppy love" than anything.

I so stole the cradle on this one, he was a year or so younger than me, but man, I got that nervous, butterflies in my stomach feeling whenever he came around. He lived across from my Aunt, and my brother and I practically lived at my Aunt's during summer vacation. After a few weeks, he finally asked my brother to go ask me if I wanted to do the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing. I said yes pretty much immediately.

He was a great boyfriend. My Aunt liked him, so him coming over all the time didn't bother her and he always brought me a gift. He would make stuff, or paint something or pick flowers for me. I loved it. But then, school started back up and we went to different schools. I never really remember officially "breaking up", but I always thought we did because I never saw him.

Then, I got transferred to the same school as him...and even when he tried to talk to me, I practically ignored him! I'd say hi and hang out a little at recess and I still got the butterflies in my stomach feeling so I had no idea what was running through my young mind. Then I moved up to Jr. High the next year, and didn't see him anymore. A year passed, and he moved up to the same Jr. High as me, and this time, I ignored him completely. Butterflies and all. I suppressed those butterflies and acted like I didn't know, or see him! I feel horrible for that. I have no reason or excuse as to why I did that when I liked him A LOT. I changed schools the next year and never saw or heard from him again. His family moved away to another city, and even my Aunt never heard from him again.

Fast forward to 2006. J and I took S to see my grandparents. Out of the blue she says, Oh..you have to see this article! I read it, and my heart dropped, and I felt a wave of emotions all at once. I can't even begin to explain what I was feeling.

There was a picture of my first love, in the local paper. He was accused of murdering his ex-boss and wife. The state had a motive, and DNA, the evidence (all the money he stole from them and personal belongings) and a witness. His girlfriend turned state's witness on him for a lesser charge. She got 15 years to life in prison instead of letting it go to a jury and probably getting the death sentence. She also helped murder the couple too. After she testified, he decided he was going to plead guilty and got 2 life terms in prison without the possibility of parole. He, also, was facing the death penalty.

I dug more into the case, and in one report, they said how many times he stabbed the man and wife. I can't remember the exact number for the man, I think it was around 50 time that he stabbed him. The wife, however, I remember the number of times he stabbed her. 83. He stabbed that poor woman 83 times. W.T.F.?!!

I remember staring at his picture. I especially stared at his eyes, because he didn't look the same, physically. He was 28, he was balding and he was scrawny. Probably from the street drugs they said he and his girlfriend were hooked on. But, his eyes..those were the same eyes that I remembered. They seemed so innocent in that picture. No way he did this, I thought. But then I remembered that it had been a very very long time, and a lot had changed. I felt sad for the couple who's lives ended early, I felt bad for his family, I even felt sorry for him. He was such a wonderful boy and I couldn't believe he ended up like that.

I had wondered that if I wouldn't have ignored him, or maybe stayed his girlfriend for a while longer, if he would have turned out different. Of course, I don't blame myself, that would be stupid.

But I just couldn't believe it. I had to, as it was right there, in black and white. Then later, I looked up his name and found out his sentence.

I guess you just never know about people. So, there won't be a reunion of sorts, no finding one or the other on Facebook, or Myspace.

Even today, I still wonder what made him "go bad".