Healing His Scars, Breaking My Heart

When news came that his ex-girlfriend had died in a tragic accident, my boyfriend, Ethan, relapsed into severe clinical depression.

Consumed by grief, he screamed about wanting to follow her into death, standing on the edge of the rooftop ledge countless times.

The ninety-ninth time I pulled him back, during our desperate struggle, I was the one who slipped and fell.

He knelt beside my hospital bed, slapping himself across the face ninety-nine times until his cheeks were swollen and raw.

He wept, swearing, "I will never think about her again. I'll never try to end my life again."