Here I am, In front of my mirror. I Brush my hair over and over, not knowing I’ve been doing it for ten minutes. I think about him, and everything we did together. Our first time talking, how badly he made me blush. How he called me “love”, and the fact that it made me blush even more. How he loved me, and how he…
“No.” I say to myself. “I can’t… I WON’T”
I slam the brush down, trying not to think of his death. The sound of the gun. The sound of his body hitting the floor. I shove my brush into my sink drawer and slam it shut.
“NO! How could he leave me?” I crumple to the floor and sob, for the second time since waking up. My lover, my friend, my everything, is gone now. What am I supposed to do? Shaking, I pick myself up, dust myself off, and shut down. I shut down my emotions, push them to the side, and try to keep myself sewn together.
