February 23rd
Dear Diary,
That therapist said I should start keeping entries. After the incident. It was my fault, you know. I was the one that brought him out that day. If I hadn't done that, none of this would have happened. Charles would still be here. I'd be fine. And he'd be right next to me, giving me that smile.
She said I'd be fine, you know. I don't think that's possible after what happened.
They said it was a drunk driver. That I shouldn't take the blame. He's in jail. He should be dead. A life for a life. But no life could equal Charles.
He was my life. He was my savior.
He was my everything.
And now he's gone. And it's my fault. I didn't even get to say goodbye...
Sincerely,
Steven Rivers
(A/N: That's it. The story's done. I leave for camp tomorrow morning, and I had to finish before I left. But here it is. I'm sorry for the ending. But that was the end when I started, so that's how it had to end.
Farewell, my friends.
Stay Proud,
Silver Grace)
YOU ARE READING
He Was My Everything
General FictionCharles David Barnes has always been, well, different. And he's upset now, more than ever, because his mother moved the two of them from their home in England to New York in America. But of course, Charles doesn't get to live in the city. It's an ol...
