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Rated: 13+ · Other · Biographical · #1163601
This is a writing of the time before my boyfriend died.
There was the same Ding-Dong of the entrance bell I heard for most of my life. Winter was just ending and the ice cream parlor was still empty, but that was how I liked it. I wanted to see my friend that worked there, but he wasnt there this time, someone else was. He looked to be about 5'9, short hair, kind of dark blonde, I remember he had blue eyes. I ordered my usual blue raspberry sherbert and sat at a tabel nearby to eat it.

His name was Billy. I sat there talking to him for about half an hour before I left to go home. I thought he was cute, so I went back the next day. He told me that he had tried to look me up online, but that I didn't get online. I told him I had another screen name and asked for his. I was nervous about talking to him, because of course I liked him, and I didn't think he'd like me once he got to know me. We talked that night for three hours. I was so happy that I went back to the ice cream parlor the next day, and we talked for an hour in person while I ate my usual blue raspberry sherbert. He seemed sweet, and nice. He told me he was 23, and I didn't believe him, but it was true. I had reservations about liking him, because I was only 16. I was worried he'd have a problem with me being so young, but he was ok with my age.

I went back to the ice cream parlor almost everyday, until we had our first date. It was a double date with my best friend and a guy she met online. Jennifer- tall, blonde, and legal, always my worst nightmare because I liked older guys, and it always seemed that they wanted her more. Billy told me that that wouldn't happen with him, he wouldn't like her more. First all of us went to play mini-golf, and me and Billy had our first kiss. He smelled so good, and as soon as his lips touched mine, I knew.

We spent everyday together, I started staying at his house and we watched movies. He had these freckles on his chest that I loved to kiss, because they were so cute. He loved to hold me, and we just laid in bed together watching tv all the time, and it helped to ease the loneliness I had felt since I was abused.

One day, what I feared the worst came to pass, and he told me there was someone else. I wanted to know who, I wanted to know who had taken him away from me. He told me, it was Her, I could tell, he didn't have to say anything, I knew, like I always did. I could feel him pulling away day by day. All the times I touched him or kissed him was tainted. It broke me inside because I realized I had fallen in love with him, but I was too afraid to tell him for so long because I was afraid he'd leave me, I was afraid of what was happening. If I loved him, he could hurt me. He could hurt me like James did, violently.

No one believed me that I loved him, why would they? I was only 16, and he was so much older than I was. They told me I was blinded by him because I was young and naive.

Even though he wasnt mine anymore, we still saw each other everyday. Nothing had changed, except that I was the other woman. He told me he was sorry, and that he didn't want to hurt me. He told me he was going to die.

I cried. I cried as if I had never cried. I wondered if it was worth it, because of what he had done with Her, but I didn't care, as long as he had time I would stay. I would stay until the very last minute.

He started getting sick, it happened so quickly, only three weeks after he told me. I felt so powerless, I cried all the time because I couldnt do anything. We hadn't had sex, he never asked, because he knew that I had trouble with physical affection as after effects of the physical abuse.

I wanted to, I wanted to because I loved him. I told him I loved him everyday, and that I would never stop, no matter what happened. Sometimes I was so afraid of him dying that I would just break down and cry. I would lose this person who had made my life seem so much better and brighter and who showed me that love could be gentle and kind.

I'm glad we did, two weeks later he went into the hospital. It happened so fast, I couldn't believe that it could spread so fast, and that nothing would help. I sat beside his bed and I cried for him, he didn't know because he was asleep. I begged the god I didn't believe in to help me, to help him. He died two days later.

I went to his grave, and cried. I cried there everyday until my tears stopped and I could speak. I spoke of nothing, of classes and of dances and of how I missed him. I spoke of the world and how it was so empty without him, and how I loved him. I came everyday. I came to see him, like always, just in a different place. Some days I missed him so much I just sat there, and couldn't speak.

It has been a year and 6 months since he passed, and I still go to his grave. I sit there and I stare at the dated on his headstone and think it has been an eternity since he has been beside me, holding my hand as I cry for what I have lost.


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