Don't listen to her. the death was instant, they said. but you can still smell the rot and shit, the smell of the car. Stop listening to her. the mans pulpy remains, the brain stuck in your hair. he was going too fast. She won't stop speaking, taunting. now here you are, in your grandmothers apartments ready to start anew. The two boys intrigue you, but will they be like every other male you have met? will they run their fingers up your spine, whisper sweet nothings- that make you want to vomit? hopefully, you can wash away your past. like that of writing in the sand; cleansed by the sea.

Your only friend was Larry. Not many kids wanted to socialize at the apartments. You lived in room 401. 402 was always empty, until one day, someone moved in, and that person was a boy name, Sal Fisher. He wore a prosthetic mask after an incident happened when he was younger. When he moved in, You were hanging out with Larry at the time. When Sal introduced himself to Larry and you, a friendship blossomed. Though, it was more than just a friendship to you. (Sorry, I'm bad at writing descriptions) (Cover Art does not belong to me)