Several years ago I met a lovely English man. He was visiting a friend's neighbor. We were sitting on the front porch with my friends having a couple of beers when this lovely man joined us and told us the tragic story of a young girl he loved deeply. He asked me if I could write down what he was saying. He wanted me to remember it so he could tell others about it. I think maybe he thought it was a way to keep his girlfriend's memory alive. Or maybe he thought his story would help others and prevent them from making the same mistakes. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essay I don't know where this man is today, I can't even remember his name. he didn't want me to mention it, so I didn't write it. but I will never forget his story and how bad I felt for him. I was born in 1946 and raised in London. My parents died when I was 5, so I was forced to live with an abusive uncle for several years. One day our neighbor Harry witnessed the abuse and beat my uncle, threatening to kill him if he touched me again. Harry was a former middleweight boxer, so he was quite intimidating. My uncle never touched me again, he pretty much ignored me and pretended I wasn't there, I'm not really sure why I was there? Harry and I became close, he taught me to box, sing and play the guitar, he was a great man. One night my uncle was driving drunk and crashed into another car, killing him instantly. I was only 10 years old at the time and I wanted to live with Harry. Harry was an African immigrant, so the law would never have agreed. Life would have been so much better if I had. I was placed in foster care. It was hard, always moving from one house to another and I was always fighting with the other children. I don't know why, but most of them seemed to hate me. At 14 I ran away and tried to find Harry but he had moved and no one would tell me where. So I lived on the streets. I survived on alms and the kindness of former schoolmates. At 16 I earned some money singing at local markets. People liked my music and I started to acquire a few groupies. One day a band asked me if I wanted to join them as a singer. I jumped at the chance. I moved in with one of the band members and made what seemed like a lot of money (I look back now and realize it was barely enough to survive). We became very popular among the locals, people loved the music, especially the girls. In October 1964, a few weeks after turning 18, we were playing outside in a park. There weren't many people around that day, but enough to give us a pretty decent wage. I noticed this beautiful girl sitting on a swing. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. She was alone and once I finished playing I went to talk to her. He told me his name was Jesse (short for Jessica). He said he lived in the country. She and her mother often came to town to go shopping. She said her mother was across the street getting her hair done. He was with her when she heard the band playing, so she came to listen to it for a while. It was love at first sight, for both of them. We chatted for about an hour, then she had to go back to her mother. I had never met anyone like her, she was different from other girls, she was so innocent and pure with the biggest heart. We were both desperate to see each other again. We didn't want to let the distance separate us, so we wrote to each other several times a week andshe and her mother came to town once a month. We knew his parents wouldn't approve, so we arranged a secret meeting. After one of our meetings, I did something stupid and asked her to run away from home and live with me. She came from a great family who loved her so much I hate myself for it. We were young and selfish and couldn't see beyond our own desires. His parents didn't even know I existed, he hid all our letters and they didn't know about our monthly date. One night he quietly packed his bags, got on a bus, and moved into town to be with me. The first 3 months were wonderful, then one day she started crying, I asked her what was wrong and she said she missed her family. I hated seeing her like this and told her to go back to them. I said we could still write to each other and see each other once a month, like we did before. When he turned 18 he wouldn't need his parents' approval, we could get married and never separate again. She refused, she said she never wanted to leave me, she couldn't bear to be away from me, even for a day, so she stayed. The selfish side of me was very happy that he did that, but now I really wish he would go back to them. We knew her parents were looking for her, but we always managed to elude them. I think she felt very guilty, she knew how much her parents loved her and it pained her when she thought about how much she was hurting them. She was so young and naive and unprepared for the way I lived. One night during a concert a very stoned partner of mine hit on her, I saw that she was trying to push him away and she seemed really scared. I jumped off the stage and told him to keep his hands off her. He said he would show her what a real man was made of. I hit him so hard it knocked him unconscious. Someone called the police. My friends Joe and Sharon took Jesse away so the cops wouldn't see her. They locked me in a cell for two days. The whole time I was afraid for Jesse, I knew she was afraid of being alone. When they released me and I got home he hugged me so tight and for so long, I didn't think he would ever let me go. Back then it was all about drugs, sex and rock n roll. Initially Jesse refused to smoke a joint or go on a trip and I never pressured her to do so. I thought it was good that one of us could stay sane during the experience. She eventually joined the drug sessions, liked it, and soon joined me in my self-destructive lifestyle. There were parties almost every night, because I was in the band we didn't have to pay for alcohol or drugs. One night I was completely destroyed from all the alcohol and drugs, I started kissing someone else, I had no idea what I was doing, this girl came up to me. At first I thought it was Jesse, when I realized it wasn't, it was too late, we had already succeeded. Apparently Jesse had witnessed the entire scene. Someone told me she ran into the street crying. The streets were not safe at night, especially if you were a young, attractive girl. I ran out to look for her. I noticed 3 men running away from someone lying on the ground. I ran to see who it was, it was Jesse, she was barely alive. Her clothes had been torn, as she had apparently been raped, and she had blood oozing from knife wounds in her chest and abdomen. I threw my coat over her and held her in my arms and told her over and over that I was so sorry, I told her that I loved her and that she meant more to me than anyone else in the world. He struggled to breathe and was in a lot of pain. His last words were "I love you" then he died among.