The Grave That Keeps Digging by Elizabeth Prinz (18, Texas)

Dirt piled as you buried me with lies. 

Behind our school, surrounded by bright flowers and trees, you dug my grave. I lay there, starry-eyed, as my lungs filled with fertilizer. ​

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It burned. God, it burned. 

Sweet falsities slipped from your lips with ease as you assured me this was normal. 

“I would never hurt you,” you said, shovel in hand as you concealed the truth. Perhaps you were trying to be humorous. No, that's not it. A misunderstanding, that's it, and soon you would return with a dozen roses, one for each lie. The weeks passed, and I waited, eager for your return. Then the weeks turned into months. One month, two months, three, five, six, I waited. 

But you never came. 

So I pushed around the fertilizer, crawling until the familiar and gentle breeze brushed my fingers. Reaching the surface the world came back to me and filled my every sense. Every labored breath was a cry for help. It was a cry for you. 

But you never came. 

Your absence felt like a blade pressed around my neck, but your presence was what cut to the bone, it was torture, and you made it so. I never realized how foolish I was till I escaped. Grass rippled as the breeze blew, it was just me, my thoughts, and the wind. I always thought being alone was the worst thing that could happen to me, but now, I‘m not so sure. 

Could I find freedom in my isolation if I just learned to live with it? But something tells me that I will never be truly free. You will always be there in the corner of my mind, haunting me. You continue to haunt me. Even now, when day fades to night and sleep takes hold. What emerges from the darkness is you. Sweet doe-brown eyes, filling my dream with empty promises of love. Shovel in hand, you dug my grave and filled it with these fantasies. The dirt piled with every lie and every excuse, suffocating me. Did you think I wouldn’t catch on? That I would stand aside and let you corrupt me? Forever be your eager accomplice when the fire erupted and your willing alibi when the sirens came. No. I’m not your shield anymore. 

But it is too late now, isn’t it? The damage is done. I cry for mercy that I know will never come as filth and maggots fill my lungs like cigarette smoke. Then I woke up. 

But even in dreams, I can not escape what once was. Isolation will not save me; only time can. 

After all, the worst is over, right? The only thing to do now is, move on. So I did. I lifted myself up, dusted off, prepared for the worst, and walked to the front entrance of our school. The building loomed over me as if nothing had changed. I walked through the same halls as a ghost would, clinging to a past life that is long gone. I’ll admit it. I missed you and missed being ignorant of your deceit. 

With each passing period, the empty spot stood beside me, a constant reminder of what you did. 
But I missed you nonetheless. 

So I did what I did best. I ignored it and eventually, my friends went along with the act. We talked, we joked, and we laughed, but no one mentioned my disappearance. After a few hours, time did heal, and for one sweet moment, I felt okay. Then the second-period bell rang, and reality came crashing down. I had to face you; there is no denying it now. Walking into the classroom with a wide-plastered smile, I went to my seat, which sat right next to yours. For a second, I thought: perhaps I could ignore you. But you had to ruin that, didn’t you? You couldn’t just leave me be. 

With each sigh, each mutter, each eye roll, and each damn glare, you wanted me to notice just to get under my skin. After all, I know how much you crave attention. But I refuse to give it to you. Day after day, pretending I didn’t notice as you threw your pity party; it was the acting of a lifetime. 

Of course, when that did not work, you took a different approach. That's when the rumors came, and your lies began to spread— infesting my life. 

Did you think that I wouldn’t find out? 

That no one would tell me what you have been saying? That my friends were to blame, someone else lied and ruined what we had, and someone else buried me six feet under. Not you. It couldn’t have been you. Your love was your alibi, just like always. “I wouldn’t do that, I love her.” 

“I miss her so much. It was her friends, not me. I would never hurt her.” A few days ago, I would have believed you. But I see right through you now. You never loved me. Because someone that did wouldn’t do this, I wouldn’t have been in the grave if you loved me. I wouldn’t have to make excuses for you, and I wouldn’t have to change myself and my boundaries for your convenience. Despite your words, you still scoff and roll your eyes at my name. You said you loved me before, but looking in those doe-brown eyes I see no love, just bitter disdain. You buried me with your lies as you constantly crossed the line. That was never love. That was betrayal. 

You betrayed me– you, no one else. 

I despise you. 

I loathe you for what you have done, for what we have become. As the days pass, I watch you rebuild your image. You give me empty apologies without addressing everything you did: just to make yourself feel better. 

I detest you. 

I hate you so much. 

I hate that I once loved you. 

We are over because of your actions–stop clinging to me, stop smiling, and stop with the small talk. I can’t take this anymore. Put down the shovel. I want to be free from the grave–free from you. But just like my nightmares, I’m still in that grave, and you continue to dig by refusing to let go. I want out. I want you to be a distant memory, completely separate from me. 

But your burden falls on my shoulders, even now, as you act like all is well. You were there that night, just as I was. You saw the dirt fill my grave because you held the shovel. Yet, you act as if I was the one digging the grave. You are a liar, and I yearn for the day everyone else sees that. I was a fool to ever believe in you, but it all makes sense now. 
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My ignorance was never bliss, but it was sure as hell easier than this.

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Elizabeth L Prinz (Lizzie) is an eighteen-year-old senior in high school who writes for her school newsletter, The Atlas. She lives in Texas and her hobbies include reading, writing, singing, and watching horror movies. After high school, she plans to study English and creative writing in college. In the future, she hopes to be able to sell her own books for a living.