I get on the bus and the boy with the hazel eyes approaches me again.
"I'm sorry if I seemed like a creep earlier.", he says with an apologetic smile. "It's just that I always used to see you and Aimee together and all...I just hope you're okay."
"I think I will be.", I lie.
He gives another smile and turns to talk to his friend again, just like this morning. Except this time, something is different.
Me and his friend make eye contact.
His friend looks from me, to Aimee's journal clutched in my hands, and back to me again. Then, he shoves his hands in his pocket and goes back to talking to the hazel-eyed boy.
His friend is Christofer Rubiano.
Ironically enough, I read Aimee's next entry.
April 29,
I'm still fucking sore.
YOU ARE READING
her words.
Teen FictionTRIGGER WARNING: suicide, depression & a hell of a lot of stupid thing like slut shaming bc 15 year old me was an idiot. '"Here.", said her mother as she handed me the notebook. "She wanted you to have this." Without saying another word she wiped...
