Dylan’s Point of View
I felt like I was dying. I guess maybe because a part of me was dying. I thought it was strange that something so unbelievable to me was also so easily believable at the same time. It had to be; I didn’t demand proof; I wasn’t insisting on getting her side of things. Maybe I knew it all along, I realized that when I tried to remember things that happened when we were little there was almost like a wall around the memory stopping me from going any further. I guess that was the exact definition of repressed memories, maybe I knew the truth all along but my need for her to be my friend and to love me wouldn’t allow me to see her or the things she did. None of that was helpful at this moment. I felt like she had died, that was the part of me that was actively dying as I
