I don't...really know how to start this story. Which part in this messed up tale do I begin?
The part where I first met him when we were young? When we began to fall in love? Or when I first noticed he wasn't quite right, not all there?
I guess I'll just start with explaining that, while I miss him and my heart aches every time I wake up and he's not there beside me, I don't regret what I did. You'll see why, eventually, I don't, but for now I'll begin on my eleventh birthday, when I first met him.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
The Story of a Mistake
TerrorEnola Ferguson made a mistake, one she'll regret for the rest of her life.
