A1 // T3: Never Be Alone

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A/N: In this story YOU are Shawn Mendes. So basically its his POV. Also when I say lyrics I mean the amount of words.

Trigger Warning: Contains gore and sensitive topics such as self harm, overdosing, attempts at suicide, and death.

Now I bet you don't want to continue.

But you do it anyway.

Its called Wattpad Logic.

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"You have 3 days left to live, at best." I stare at the photo album, involuntarily, remembering what the doctor said. Running my fingers through my hair, I sighed clenching my weak hands together.

"This is your last batch of medicine. You can't pay, You won't get it."

The capsule of pain pills sat willingly on the counter, almost calling for me to take them.

So I did.

Each circular, white pill traveled down my throat, one by one as I washed it down with water.

I thought of her the entire time. This was all for her. If she had to suffer, then so did I.

Her smile. The way the corners of her mouth reached her cheeks. How her laugh echoed throughout the house.

Feeling lightheaded, I started for my bedroom for rest. I reached the breezy room, a single bed taking up the entire room. A bed made for two. A cactus lay in the corner of the room, only bringing memories of her.

I want her.

I need her.

But I'm just being selfish.

I can't have her forever.

She can't be here forever.

I will miss her.

Ironic how the doctors won't take care of me, only because of my financial crisis. They have to take care of me. And her. They just want the money. The world today is a despicable place.

I just had 10 pills left.

That will last me about 5 days.

I fell asleep, regretting it due to the nightmares that haunt my brain.

The knife slices through my skin like paper, blood flowing down my neck. I lay there, lifelessly, blood staining my clothing, and soul. Forever.

My eyes swiftly opened, replaying and reversing the image I just fabricated with my imagination.

I sighed taking my journal, cluttering the floor.

I wrote what I needed to do.

What I wanted to do.

1. Find the knife in the kitchen

2. Decide what to do with it

I walked out my room, cacti scattering the vast space. Heading towards the kitchen, I gathered the assortment of knifes, choosing the sharpest one, the one that would get the job done quicker.

Shawmila // Give me LoveDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora