I didn't love Jackie, but I killed him. And Now he's killing me.

It's all so fresh still. I don't know what to feel or say. I'm in a crummy motel in the middle of some swamp. I took countless buses, most of which i had to pay for in truck stop bathrooms, and ended up here. I don't miss home.

I miss Jackie.

He had everything. A beautiful house with his partner, talent, kids, wealth. at 50 years old, he was prematurely gray but in perfect shape. He taught at the community college were i was taking Criminal Justice. I didn't need the credits, but I loved to draw. I the first day of class, i knew i wanted him. I never looked at a man that way before. I wasn't gay! But he was so happy and healthy, I wanted to be him. I wanted to have him for myself.

We grew close through our class time together, and I became obsessed. Even after the classes had ended, and I had my degree, he would invite me over for diner. There wasn't a day that went by when we didn't talk.

A month ago, he invited me over while his partner took their kids to stay with a family friend. They had been fighting, and he wanted someone to talk to. He had been drinking when I arrived, but wasn't drunk. His shirt was unbuttoned and his grey hair was messy. We talked and drank together, and after a few hours, he was feeling better. He asked to draw me and we went up stairs. He drank as he drew me lounging on window bench under the full moon, Vegas lights in the distance.

I don't know how, but we ended up on the bed together. He touched my long hair and told me he was glad to have a friend like me. I put my hand on his neck and seduced him. The next morning, his partner found us asleep in bed and kicked him out.

Jackie was found dead 24 hours later. Killed himself. I blamed myself.

My mom and chief officer from work sent me to therapy, and the therapist sent me to the Doctor for a physical. The old man had given me HIV. I panicked and fled town.

What do I do now?