Seventeen Years of Despondency
His name was Quentin Black, and we were dangerously in love. He was the source of my happiness, and the source of my pain. But I couldn't live without him.
I was a damaged soul, filled with all sorts of sorrow and despair, but he swore to fix me. And fix me he did, for a while, until that time was cut short on numerous occasions by an unfortunate series of
events. Several people tried to interfere with his plans of helping me; Emma, Austin, and even my own mother. But in the end, it was down to me and him who were held responsible for how the story went.
So here's how the story about my last year on earth goes. Not a love story, not a horror story, but my story; my death story.
