Chemo

I walked home that night, alone. I was silently hoping that some men wearing dark hoodies over their faces would come and kill me, torture me if they please. Anything, it didn’t matter to me anymore.  I’ve been having these thoughts a lot lately, ever since the universe casted bad luck to me, and my supposed “God” decided to forget me and everything I have part in.

I walked the noisy streets, seemingly more busy than usual. What appeared to be millions of cars passed me not even knowing half of the pain I went through or why I walked alone. All they probably saw was a sixteen year old girl looking at the hepatic street with a longing look, as if she wanted to run into it.

I looked down helplessly, a rain storm becoming in my eyes, just by thinking of him. His perfectly sculpted face, glorious, sparkling, ever glowing blue eyes, his black perfectly messy hair that hits his eyebrows, which are shaped with ease. Sure, his heart wasn’t the biggest, but its defiantly the most full.

 He always wore dark jeans hanging over his black converse high tops.  He usually wore a black tee shirt. And around his wrist were beaded bracelets that I made for him to hide his scars with. He was often called gay for wearing them, but he didn’t listen.

That boy was my best friend, boyfriend, and soul mate. He listened to my constant complaining and talking, and was there to catch me when I fell. This boy’s name is Garett Mattenson, he called me beautiful and loved me unconditionally, always. And now, I’m forced to make him a memory.

[Hi guys c: plz let me know if you like the prologue of this story. Thnx!!]