Anger leeches on to me, and no matter what I do, I can’t seem to shake it off. Layla holds my hand, looking perfect in my letterman jacket. My mind keeps skipping to Nelson. It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t give two f*cks what happened to him. His death had nothing to do with me. Yet, the voice that whispers in the back of my mind tells me his death had everything to do with me, because I know why he took his life. ...