All I can think about is what she must be doing, and how I wish she were still here. (Pittacus Lore, I Am Number Four)

Tommy was throwing me a line and I had to grab on. The person I had become was a stranger to me.

“What's wrong?” Gloria asked when I returned.

“Nothing.”

“What's wrong?” Gloria asked the next day.

“Nothing.”

“What's wrong?” Gloria asked that night.

I started to cry and I spilled everything. I chronicled for her my entire life story. I didn’t skip over any of the brutal bits. An hour must have passed, maybe more, as I crawled through the gory details.

By the end she was on my bed with me lying in her arms. Her response to all this was: “You should write a book.” It was as good advice as any.

“What kind of sick fool would want to read my story?” No offense.