Heal
February 16, 2023•1,119 words
I’ve
debated for a few days on whether to publish this or not. It is written
from a place of cynicism. When I was sixteen, my foster brother
committed suicide with a rifle. I was asleep, ten feet away from him
when he ended his life. The smell of gunpowder and blood is forever
seared into my psyche. Whenever there is another headline about gun
violence in America, I am transported, just for a moment, back to that
night. I relive it. The anniversary is coming up. I can’t remember the
date...
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