I Killed My Best Friend我害死了我的好友

　　酒后驾车不仅让她痛失好友，而且还让她一辈子生活在深深地自责中。如今时光不再，又有多少友谊又可以重来……

　　I first met Owen seven years ago when I was a sophomore and he was a freshman at our high school. We became inseparable. Like me, he was totally into music-playing instruments and writing songs. And he was the "nice guy." If Owen was going to a concert, he d invite everyone he knew, regardless of grade or "status ." Everyone loved him-especially me.

　　Even after I graduated from high school and enrolled at a nearby community college , Owen and I hung out every day. He was the first person I called when I decided to have a party at my parents house that year. It seemed like a perfect opportunity to get a keg : My mom and dad were going to visit my aunt for the entire day. Having the party at my house also meant I wouldn t have to worry about driving.

　　From what people told me later, the party was a pretty typical get-together . A lot of my friends came, and we hung out, drinking beer, watching the game, joking around and listening to music. When my parents came home that evening, the keg was gone but people were still milling around ; my parents were pretty angry to discover that I d had a party. I decided to go out so they could cool down. A friend offered to give Owen and me a ride-we were both drunk-but plans got confused and he left before we could meet outside. Somehow, I got behind the wheel of my car.

　　The next thing I knew, I was in the hospital. My vision was blurry and my entire body was racked with pain . Tubes seemed to be coming out of every part of my body. I had no idea how I got there: The last thing I remembered was planning a party with Owen over the phone. My mom was sitting next to my bed when I came to , but all she told me was that I had been in an accident and lost a lot of blood.

　　By my third day in the hospital, I realized Owen didn t visit. I couldn t understand why my best friend wouldn t come to see me. Struggling against the pain, I called his house. His mom answered, and when I asked for Owen, she got quiet. "He s not here right now," she said. I thought it was strange that she didn t tell me where he was or offer to have him call me. But I was so weak, I just let it go . I found out later that Owen s mom telephoned my parents right after we hung up. My phone call really made her anxious, and she insisted they talk to me. Later that night, my mom came by. Did I remember drinking? Did I remember being in a car? I had no idea what she was talking about, so she finally told me the news: I d hit a tree. Owen, in the passenger seat, was thrown from the car and killed instantly . The only reason I d lived was because of my seat belt.

　　My first reaction was of shock. I d been drink-driving? Hit a tree? Killed Owen? I felt like the worst person in the world. Even after I was able to go home several weeks later, I didn t want to eat, I didn t want to talk. I just stared at the wall in my bedroom and cried. The only person I wanted to see was Owen. I didn t feel like hanging out with any of my old friends.

　　Owen s parents said they didn t blame me. Ten months later, though, a policeman rang our doorbell. The state was prosecuting me for Owen s death. I had the option to plead guilty and maybe get a sentence, but my parents kept saying, "It was an accident!"

　　The trial was cruel. The prosecutor made me out to be a horrible person. The worst part was the terrible pictures the prosecutor showed-not only of the car but also of Owen after the accident. In the end, I was found guilty and sentenced to five years in prison.

　　I can t describe how terrified I was to leave my family and friends. Besides cleaning the toilet in our prison, I have nothing to do, nowhere to go and no one to talk to. I have never felt so lonely. Two years into my sentence, not a day goes by that I don t think about Owen. I ve joined a prison program that sends me to schools to warn students about drink-driving-it s like I have Owen inside to keep me going. I want to study in school again and pursue a career in music industry. Music is like therapy to me. I know nothing will ever bring Owen back. And whether I m in prison or not, I will have to live with that for the rest of my life.