There are millions and millions of stars in space. Those stars represent, to me, the people of the world. Bright, dim. Orange, red, blue, white. Close, far. But one star stood out to me: the Sun. A bright, beautiful, ball of fire. To me, that star was Blakely Halsing: my bright, beautiful fire. However, like every star, the Sun has a fiery ending, causing a black hole that destroys everything around it.
Blakely was seventeen years old when she took her own life. My star had burnt out; there was nothing I could do. So here I sit, on my bed that I shared with her so many times, lying here, talking about everything and anything. The ceiling above me a vast plain white. I hear a knock on my door and my mom comes in, her frail, dark figure stepping in through the door.
"Hey T. Time to get ready." She speaks quietly, so quietly, in fact, I can barely hear her. I don't respond.
"Come on Tanner. Please. She would have wanted you there. Get up, eat something, shower. We leave in two hours." She stands there for another second or two, then pads out my door. I glance at the door, then force myself to sit up. Blood rushes to my head while it pounds. My gaze makes its way to my desk calendar. October 24th. The date is two days late. It should be the 27th, three days after. I push myself out of bed, grab clothes, and head to the bathroom to shower. I turn on the water and step in, feeling the hot water burn my back. After a while, I wash my hair, then step back out and redress into nicer clothing. I head downstairs to eat a very small breakfast while my mom starts the car. I go out to get in the car and watch out the window as we drive by the world, unbeknownst to the fact that the Sun has burnt out.
YOU ARE READING
Letters From The Dead Girl
Teen FictionIt's been two days since Tanner's girlfriend, Blakely, swallowed a handful of pills and was rushed to the hospital. On the way, she died holding her crying mother's hand. Tanner hasn't come out of his room in those two days. On the third day is her...
