RYLEE
I drank myself to death, crying in bed, holding an alcohol bottle. My satin, black dress was a mess, mirroring my fizzy, long hair.
For seven years, I have loved Kyran from afar. He was my first love. My everything.
I recall the spring when I first saw him playing football with his friends on the school’s empty grounds. It was my first day. The moment I noticed him, my feet stopped, my heartbeat paused, and I was compelled.
He was gorgeous in every way.
His blonde hair shimmered under the soft glow of the setting sun, a few crystal beads of sweat dropping from his matted loose strands and slowly rolling down his cheek, accentuating the sharp edges of his face.
I fell in love with him at first sight.
Then, something happened.
The air was suddenly heavy with the scent of cut
