The boys from Great Falls

The boys from Great Falls

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing59m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Apr 25, 2022
I don't know exactly what I'm doing. I really don't know what I'm doing as I hurriedly pack my entire wardrobe into a red suitcase, without thinking about how many panties I'm packing or if I'm dirtying my summer dresses by shoving my boots next to my white clothes. I think it must be the tequila shots I was carrying, the shots I may have drank from the crook of Alex's neck or Sarah's navel. The truth is that it doesn't matter. I make a whole paripé for a suitcase that I had been thinking about preparing for months. I got the bills exactly 4 months, 17 days and 38 after mom's death. But now I needed to act as if it had all been a crazy idea that had occurred to me a few hours ago while Alex was kissing my neck in a bathroom of the dirtiest and most lost bar in the city. Well then, at least I could blame my decision on alcohol, sex and spite, and then it would make sense to say that I was about to go to the town where my mother was apparently last seen.
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Nobody ever thinks their life will shatter in an instant-until it does. Not at first. You wake up, you go through the motions, and you trust the people around you. You laugh, you cry, you love. You never stop to wonder if the hands you hold today will be the same ones that destroy you tomorrow. I never did. I never questioned the warmth in his smile, the strength in his presence, the way he stood by my side like a shadow I could always rely on. I thought I had finally found someone who understood me, someone who didn't see me as an outsider. Someone I called a brother. But trust is a dangerous thing. It blinds you. It makes you miss the signs staring right at you. Because the moment I saw the truth- I realized I had been holding the devil's hand all along. #5 Survivor #36 Obsession

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