Slammed into a locker. Pushed to the ground. A bloody nose and a blackened eye. A pillow streaked with tears. A bloody razor and a scarred arm. A father that left and a mother who couldn't wait for her next fix. A rope around his neck and a stool kicked over. A note left beneath his swinging feet. You motherfuckers caused this. You made him think it was a way out. This is your fault, you soulless bastards. I've lost hope.
YOU ARE READING
A Beautiful Place to Die
NouvellesSome small stories I have written in my free time.
