It´s been a year today since my mom shot herself, and left me with her husband, my step dad...
½ year since i was in my old living room for the last time. I remember it clearly, the blood, the tears, the sweat, i remember it all. Unfortunately.
I still wear it, the ring my mom gave me on my 15th birthday. It belonged to her mother. I never take it of, i dont know why. It´s just a stupid ring. Maybe not.
Sometimes i miss her, her hugs, her kisses before bed, her "I love you honey" every day.
But shes dead, and shes never coming back...
This is my first story and chapter so bear with me:)
