Remember Me

Authors Note: this content may be triggering to those who have been through or witnessed physical, emotional, mental or sexual trauma

When I looked at him, I didn't see fireworks or hear wedding bells chiming, and he certainly didn't appear to be the only one in the room. You see when I looked at him I didn't see anything remotely close to how they describe it in the novels. No, I saw something lovely, something undeniably rare; I saw a sculpture, a work of art. Picked and prodded, pushed and pulled. I saw misery and heartbreak, but also hope and freedom. He was the art piece I never wanted to sell, but instead hide away for safe keeping. Sadly he was misplaced inside my wild mind. With recklessness he faded into nothing, not even a memory.