Ginny
- Reads 27
- Votes 1
- Parts 1
I was told by my counselor to write about my son to release some of my inner emotions about what happened, but not even writing can express my regret.
I should've been there.
I should've helped him.
But all I could do was stand there
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I glared at him; every cell in my body was on fire with hate. Everything that he represented - a manipulated, cold, emotionless world - I wanted to end. Yet I couldn't because he was the only one that could get me what I had wanted for the past two years of my life. He was the only one that was cold enough to get the job done. What did that say about me?
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