APRIL/SATURDAY
Dear journal ,
Mom found me today. Fingers down my throat, face red, and hanging onto the toilet for dear life. I've never seen her look more disappointed in me. To make matters worse, when she tried to pull me to my feet, my shirt rose and my scars became visible. She looked like she was going to cry. But she didn't; she hasn't since Eva died. She said she wouldn't stand by and let this happen any longer. So, the next time you hear from me , I'll be settling into my new home - Long Beach Mental Institution.
- Matt
YOU ARE READING
Pretty Boy (boyxboy)
Teen FictionI was sent to this hospital to be fixed. My mother was convinced that having doctors poking and prodding at me day and night would cure me from my....issues, as she called them. She never expected my perfect cure to be a dimpled, brown eyed boy.
