Christopher Occhipinti

Summer at the lake was wild. Chris and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Our secret spot was the boathouse, where we would sneak away from our parents. We explored every inch of each other, young and reckless. The thrill of it all made our hearts race.

Nights were our favorite. We swam under the stars, the water cool against our heated skin. Afterward, we’d lie on the dock, whispering dreams, the world quiet and ours alone. In those moments, everything felt perfect.

But things started to change. Chris became moody, and our fights got worse. One night, I told him the truth: I had been seeing another guy. The betrayal in Chris’s eyes cut deep. He left, storming off into the night.

The next day, he showed up at my house, sadness etched on his face. He hugged me, but it felt different, like a goodbye. “I need to go,” he said, walking away. Something inside me twisted, a gut feeling that something terrible was coming.

I couldn’t stop thinking about our times together. Sneaking sips of whiskey, his hands exploring my body, our whispered promises in the dark. The memories burned bright, but they were now tainted with guilt.

Days passed in a blur of pain. The boathouse, once our haven, was now a place of grief. A place he jumped to his death to show me he could swim in a fit of his rage towards me. I visited often, sitting on the dock, remembering the nights we spent together. The lake was now a silent witness to my heartbreak.

I was haunted by what I’d done. The nights we explored each other’s bodies, the thrill of our secret love, now all felt like a cruel joke. Chris was gone because of me, and I couldn’t escape that truth.

Time didn’t heal the wound, but I learned to live with it. The boathouse and the lake were filled with memories of Chris. Our wild, reckless love, and the mistakes that led to his death.

Guilt gnawed at me constantly. I kept thinking about that last day, the fights, and Ross. What if I had just held Chris tighter, told him I loved him one more time?

Chris was gone, but the memories stayed. They became part of me, shaping who I was. The boathouse, the lake, and those summer nights were forever etched in my heart.