Over the years, I've watched him grow. Through the baby stages to death. I've seen the struggles, the joy, the despair. It was all clear. He never gave a thought, that he wasn't alone in his room. He was never alone, I was there. I was there in the walls, the dirty carpet he refused to clean, in the posters, the holes, in that stinky boy smell he emitted as a teen. I was there for him, strong and sturdy as the walls. Comforted him as he sobbed on my carpet. I was his escape, his punishment. When he knew noone else was there, he would run to me. I was there.
I was there for his arrival. I was there to watch him all bundled up and warm, smiling and asleep, more peaceful then he'll ever be as he grows old. I was there to soothe him asleep, as his mother drinks downstairs, and his father leaves.
I was there for his first steps. I was there to guide him along my walls, begging for love and affection. I was there to praise him. I was there.
I was there when he entered grade school. I was there to comfort him when the kids teased him. He had no mother, no father. Endless torments berated him. I was there to hold him. I was there.
I was there when he was 17. I was watching as he tied the rope to the fan. I was there for the plans, the preparation, and the event itself. I was there to pry the fan loose from the drywall. I was there.
I was there when he was 34. Living alone, safe and captive in my walls. I was there as he arranged my insides to their cleanest perfection. I was there...
Author's note
this paper was inspired by a true story and it was written by a close friend of mine not me...she did her best so have mercy when u're rating plz
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