3.9
Remembering Trevor is like self-inflicting a wound. As I talk about him, my lips forming words while my brain fogs up with emotion, it feels like I’m shooting myself in the chest with a gun.
I met Trevor in school. He was graduating, a year ahead of me, and as cheesy as it sounds, there was a spark between us. I found myself being drawn to him and running into him in the most unexpected of places. He was always on my mind.
We fell in love – or so I thought. What we had wasn’t love, it was the unhealthiest relationship we could have possibly had.
And then we fought. And he died.
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Fragments
Teen FictionOne bridge. Two guys. Three secrets. Four therapists. Five attempts. Six months. Seven bad habits. Eight family meetings. Nine visits. Ten cuts. One death. Spiritual #4