His favorite color? No idea. But his darkest secrets? Those I knew well.

In distress, he confessed all the horrible things he had done, and I comforted him.

I followed as he sank into a deep spiral. Selfish, cruel, with no regard for human life—yet I never judged him. I clung to what he might have been, though he'd never reach it.

He desperately needed help, and I wasn't the one to give it. He hid his self through me while I took all the blame—someone too shattered to be fixed.

Shouldn't there be hope for a person? I thought—common sense never clicked. I felt life draining from me, all because I couldn't say goodbye.