TW su*cide/death
The world was trembling. Well, not the entire world. My world. She sat there on the cold stone, her pale face in her hands, shoulders shaking vigorously. Her cheeks stained with tears. Tears that I caused. I caused them by leaving. I didn't think I'd stay behind long enough to see the aftermath of my decision. She softly mutters my name. I know she misses me. But I can't say that I regret doing it. I can't say that I regret dragging that blade across my wrists to the point where there was no way of saving me. I can't say that I regret giving away my life to move on to the next. But I didn't think I'd still be here to see her go numb. To see her break down, to see her giving up on the hope that I brought into her life.
She's yet to read my letter. I didn't leave without a final goodbye. She looked at me strangely after I hugged her tightly and kissed her lips intensely. Much more than I normally would, while shedding a tear that rolled down my cheek and landed on her shoulder. But I knew something she didn't. That that would be the last time we would ever do that. 'See you tomorrow', she said. I had to swallow a lump in my throat, knowing all too well what she will walk into tomorrow. Knowing that she will be the one to find me, because there is no one else who cares enough to check on me. Knowing that she will see me again, but I won't see her. So I replied with: 'Yeah, I love you.' 'I love you too', she said. 'To the moon?', she asked. I whispered my response softly: 'and back'. And with that, I walked out of her life. Forever.
(A/N) I'm not sure how clear it is, but the narrator in this story is a ghost, looking at the scene they left behind when they k*lled themselves.
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One shots
Historia CortaSometimes I get inspired to write one or two paragraphs of a certain scene and now you guys get to read them too. Subjects and themes vary, but most are written in first person narrative. Enjoy! The first person narrator does not have a known name...
