Ricky.
- Reads 14
- Votes 1
- Parts 1
We were in 8th grade. No one knew it was going to happen. Just out of the clue the tragic moment passed and all of us immediately blamed ourself. Was our friendship a lie after all?
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On that day, the sky was clear, the sun warm on the school grounds, and life felt light, full of possibility. My friends and I-each of us so different, yet inseparable-believed nothing could ever tear us apart. We were "The Anarchists," a group of misfits who never quite fit the mold, and that was precisely what made us strong. But gunshots shattered the peace, tearing apart the world as we knew it. In an instant, our little safe haven became a nightmare, and what remains now are only memories-memories of a friendship that even death can't truly end it.
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