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side pavement behind a run-down theater, I couldn't help but think of the image of the boy I once knew. How could things have gotten this twisted? --The dim fluorescent lights and the gruesome stench of both hand sanitizer and old people did nothing to ease my worries. Shadows cast by those same lights fell over my once perfectly tousled locks, now disheveled by the shaky hands that ran through them. My hooded eyes left no tears to shed, and I had only myself to blame as more than a million thoughts raced through my mind. There was no way that I couldn’t self-destruct and blame myself, especially not when I could’ve done something— anything, really—though, funny enough, I couldn’t. My brain told me to move: dash my way to him and help as best as I could, but my body all but screamed the opposite. Nerves buzzing, hairs standing, and body shaking, I stood. And now, I have to find a way to help. “Nikolai? Nikolai Richardson?” said a voice right above me. “You’re here to see the patient, I presume?” I looked up to see a woman donned in a white coat, signifying she was yet another person who helped him even when I couldn’t. I cast my eyes downward before 49

Profile for Butterfly Dreamz

2020 Leadership Journal E-book  

A leadership journal written by girls from Newark, NJ to cultivate courageous conversations and action. Purchase your copy at theleadershipj...

2020 Leadership Journal E-book  

A leadership journal written by girls from Newark, NJ to cultivate courageous conversations and action. Purchase your copy at theleadershipj...