by Chelssey Van Santen
My story starts five years ago, when I was 20 years old and alone. I had no food, no money, no family (or so I thought). I met him one day when I was at my lowest and he saved me. He basically took me into his life and took care of me.
He loved me like I was his daughter, like I was the child he'd always wanted. I wish I could say that it remained like that until he died, but I can't. It did turn bad. And that was when things really started to happen. I moved away, and became cruel and vindictive towards him, because the pain was too much for me to handle.
It wasn't very long after that, because I did move away September 2007, and found out just this past weekend of February 2008 that he had died. He was my closest friend, someone who I loved more than a lot of people in my life.