Lizzie one shots<3

Survivor's guilt

A/n: Hi<3 I'm not sure if I'm back yet. I was reading my drafts, and I found this and wanted to finish it. I wrote this when I was in one of the darkest places of my life. The whole point of me posting this is to show my past self that it can get better. This year has been pretty tough, and I still am struggling. I wrote the first half of this chapter in October and couldn't continue the part where Lizzie comforted y/n. But you know, at least now I'm in a place where I can and that itself is progress. With that being said, I'm sorry for not being able to reply to your requests. I really am. I wish I could help all of you feel better. I genuinely wish I could take all your pain away. Just know that you are not alone.
This chapter is very personal to me. It touches pretty sensitive topics. Please avoid reading it if you think it might trigger you. Sending you all my love<3

⚠️: Death, Self-harm, Harm, Slight mention of abuse and assault.
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I moved out of my country two years ago. It was my childhood dream to move out. I wish I could tell my younger self it isn't what she thinks at all.

The guilt I went through just because I believed it was my fault that my mom was gonna leave her family and come with me to Canada was killing me. It made me hate myself so much I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. Words could never describe what I went through alone. I kept everything to myself. I tried to show signs, but no one ever saw anything. Until I met Lizzie. I guess the only good thing about it is this.

She listens to me. She understands me. She notices when I need to be loved.

Since everything in Iran got pretty bad again, I have spiralled back to a very dark place. I've been blocking out everyone. Trying to minimize any sort of conversation.
I haven't answered Lizzie's phone calls.

I found out who my real friends are. I found out that I am truly alone. Without Lizzie, I have nobody here who can emotionally support me. I wish I could go back home.

- - - - - -

It's 2 am in the morning, and I'm scrolling on my phone. I can't put it away. I have to check the news constantly.

"16-year-old Nika has vanished after being seen protesting against compulsory hijab law."

"Mahsa Amini gets buried on her 23rd birthday."

"15-year-old Sarina Esmaielzade has been reportedly beaten to death for protesting for women's basic rights."

"Iranians have taken the streets to protest."

"Nika Shakarami's body has been handed to her family with a smashed nose and a broken skull. She is going to get buried on her 17th birthday."

"The government blocks the whole internet."

I sent another message to my best friend in Iran, even though I knew it would not get delivered.

Why do I get to move out and those girls don't? Why do I get to live here while my friends and family are suffering over there?

Survival guilt is killing me. I go back to insta to check the news when Lizzie calls me.

Why is she calling me this late?

I don't want to pick up, but what if something's wrong? What if she needs help?

y/n: Hello?