Mallorie Cheves

United States

I am a junior in high school and an aspiring writer. I love video games, reading, cooking (and eating) , volunteering, playing the guitar, and of course writing! That's all there is to it, really cx

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I would like to receive positive feedback, however constructive criticism, such as redundancy or bad grammar would also be appreciated. I'm very grateful for any reviews, favorites, or follows that I receive, so thank you so much for all of the support, it means a lot! Feel free to comment on anything that stands out to you as well, thanks c:

The Shadows of Remorse

May 20, 2014

Christian anxiously tapped his pencil against the desk, uttering the aggravating percussion that students were too drowsy to address. He knew what to expect when Mrs. Keith's phone rang; he imagined the scenario vividly. "Christian Sandstedt, the guidance office would like to have a word with you." The immature guys in the back of the room would utter a soft, "Ooooh, he's busted." He would overlook them, of course, but the thought raced through his head and made it impossible to pay attention to quadratic equations.

A loud noise chimed from the back of the room. Mrs. Keith walked to the back of the classroom to answer the phone. She had no idea what Christian did, but her face lost its natural olive colored glow, and she slowly hung the phone back onto the receiver. "Christian Sandstedt, Mr. O'Reilly wants to conference with you." He shuffled his papers and slung his backpack onto his right shoulder. There was no point in leaving his belongings, he knew that this would be the longest conference of his life.

Christian walked through the dim-lit hallways, sketching out the next scenario in his head. He didn't fear Mr. O'Reilly, or the consequences that he deserved. He knew that private school was a privilege, and he was well-aware of how determined his parents were at giving him the best possible future. He only feared the reactions of disappointment and regret in the beautiful chestnut colored eyes his mother had. He was only twelve steps away from the guidance office, which meant that he was only twelve steps away from becoming hysterical and shedding the last piece of sanity this situation left him.

Christian slowly opened the door to Mr. O'Reilly's office, hearing the sobs of a frantic woman and the soft crackle from the fireplace. He took a look at this woman, only to identify her as Marie Vigil. Despite her pink bloated face from long periods of crying, he recognized her almost immediately. To Christian, last Saturday night was as hazy as the fog settling outside, but once he saw her vibrant red hair, his eyes filled with tears almost immediately.

"Please, sit down, Mr. Sandstedt." Mr. O'Reilly said sternly. He took a seat next to Marie, and tried looking at her once more, but she turned away and scooted her seat to the other end of the room. Mr. O'Reilly used to work as a detective in Chicago before taking a job as a counselor, so naturally his temper ran very thin as far as injustices were concerned. "Do you mind explaining to me why this girl; this innocent, beautiful girl, is bawling her eyes out?" Christian shook his head. "No sir." (You idiot you know what you did, he knows what you did, why aren't you talking?!)

"I know why she's upset. She knows why she's upset, and you sure as Hell know why we're all gathered in this room today. I'm going to ask you again, can you explain to me why she's crying?" Christian looked up as he unbuttoned the cuffs from his uniform, looking down in shame. "Yes sir. I will try to remember to the best of my ability." (There's no use in making up excuses now, we all know what you did.)

"I went to a party last Saturday night with my friends Logan and Noah. They handed me a drink, commemorating me on my recent mid-term exam score. His older brother S-"

"Who's older brother?"

"Logan's, sir."


"Right, so Logan's older brother, Sam, brought alcohol to the occasion, to lighten the mood so to speak, since the party was dead. I was given a couple of beers and for the rest of the night I was under the influence." His cheeks flared with heat, and his humiliation was shown on his face in a bright pink color.

"You know," said Mr. O'Reilly, "drinking at the age of fifteen is already a crime in itself, but we are not here for that. Please, continue."

"In all honesty I could not remember who I saw that night up until now when I saw Marie, but I do remember my friends encouraging me to talk to her. I'm not big with the ladies, so I'm naturally very shy. When she dropped her coat off into the linen closet I tried everything to talk to her. When she was leaving I couldn't let her go without saying something, anything. I kept her in the room and it got out of hand from there."

Marie, who was finally settled down, began to wail in agony once more. Her words slurred together with, "I hate you," and "It's all your fault." Once Mr. O'Reilly assured her that she was safe, she finally spoke in a manner that they all could understand. "Y-You did this to me! You stole what was rightfully mine, I hate you, I will never forgive you!" Rather than calming her down, Mr. O'Reilly encouraged her to bash Christian with her accusations, despite how ambiguous they were for the time being.

"Marie, I am so s-sorry," Christian managed to say before burying his face in his hands, crying almost as intensely as she. Mr. O'Reilly made no effort in comforting Christian, because in his eyes, he saw nothing but scum. "Essentially, you'll be charged of being under the influence and conducting lewd-lascivious acts with a minor without consent. Christian continued to cry, muttering under his sobs, "I need help."

"You're insane Chris, you're a psycho! How could you do this to me? You raped me and you're playing the victim I hope you burn in Hell!" Marie shouted. Mr. O'Reilly attempted to console her by putting his hand on her shoulder, but she swatted it away and curled tightly into a ball on the red leather seat. The authorities were called as soon as Christian's parents arrived. Once the handcuffs were secured onto Christian's wrists, he said goodbye to his mother, only to see the exact reaction he pictured. His mother's eyes have never looked so dull, and to this day the chestnut color never returned.

Throughout the entirety of Christian's life, he assumed that he got the upper-hand of the situation. He had a loving family of his own, whom none of them knew about his regretful high school experience other than his wife, Brenda. After conferencing with Marie, he sincerely apologized and, to his surprise, received a, "Thank you," from her reassuring voice. He had a steady job as the manager of a yacht salesman, which paid a handsome salary. However, one obstacle remained dormant in his life.

His mother was terminally ill, and was expected to live three months at best. She was fully aware of her situation, but refused to admit her forgiveness to her only child, who stood at her bedside as she slowly deteriorated. On October 21st, 2026, her final piece of advice to Christian was, "Show a woman with as much respect as you've shown me." He gripped her hand as she left the room, and sobbed onto her hospital bed, knowing that his only regret in life was never hearing his mother say the three words he had longed for since he was fifteen . "I forgive you."


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