I grew up with a guy that was mentally abused. My family would help him when we could and when we had to. I got accepted to NYU and he came with me

7 years

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I grew up with a guy that was mentally abused. My family would help him when we could and when we had to. I got accepted to NYU and he came with me because he needed to get out of where he was. I helped him get a job in the WTC just weeks before 9/11. He did pass away when the towers fell.

The weekend before he said “Thank you for saving my life and giving me a fresh start.” I’ve never forgotten and I’ve never been able to recover and feel so responsible for his death. Sometimes I wake up wondering if he would still be alive if he still lived with that family that tormented him, that shot nails through his knees, that s******* abused him.

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