Leah sat with me on the
edge of my bed, the yearbook resting in her lap.
I had started crying the
second she had walked in the door, and it had taken me close to an hour to get
control of myself.
I told Leah everything.
I knew she thought I was
crazy, but I didn’t care.
I was crazy, but there
were outside forces aiding my mental breakdown.
“A student and a youth
pastor?”
She was looking at me,
dumbfounded.
“This is who you blame
for your conspiracy? An uppity rich bitch and a guy with frosted tips? “
I knew it was more than
just them, and I told her as much. I
just didn’t know all the pieces yet.
“You need to let this go,
Felicia.”
She rested her hand on my
shoulder.
I couldn’t. Not yet.
I felt her hand squeeze
my shoulder a little harder.
Hard enough that it hurt.
“Let. It. Go.”
Leah didn’t look like my
friend anymore.
She looked… dangerous.
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