Outcast

Chapter Four

Before this starts, I will tell you that the events of this chapter aren't actually part of the plot. It is a premature ending that I wrote to provide closure for people I won't see over the summer. Read this knowing that it isn't actually the end, nor what actually happens.

How can one person cause so much pain?

I only knew you for a month, but there are more things I miss about you than stars in the sky. You were my everything. I don't know how, but I gave you all of my stars. You were a galaxy, and the blues and pinks were beautiful. But now I have nothing. Nothing but the hole you left. Everything aches, and I'm tired of the silence. I'm sick of crying myself to sleep, and the pure emptiness of everything.

I just want you here.

I want to tell you all the things you never knew.

If you would have known how beautiful the galaxy was, would this have happened? If someone would have told you they loved you, would you be here? Was it my fault?

In your note you said that I was the only person who cared. I didn't care enough. I didn't care enough to keep you here. I didn't realise how much you meant to me. But now I'm completely and utterly lost.

The world is spinning before my eyes, and everything is blurry. There are white spots in my vision, moving as my body shakes. My hands are trembling, and I can't seem to sit on flat ground. I'm falling, drowning, and I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe why can't I breathe? The world is fading away, and I can't hear myself as I break down on the carpet, my lungs can't fill with oxygen and my heart is pounding and everything is dark.

A white room is filled with paper blue people. The paper people are running and moving everywhere, while one person lays still. This person is attached to wires and machines and has her eyes closed. Suddenly, the paper blue people stop moving as a computer makes a long beeping noise. Some of them cry, but the one in the bed looks as if nothing had happened.

Asteria Iovino suffered heart failure.
And now Kailani Tyler has gone into respiratory failure.

The funeral is a small, quiet ceremony. She is buried with a note, one written in sloppy handwriting and smudged by tears. The note holds stars, drowning in ocean eyes. A galaxy had left some stars behind, and they were buried with the girl with paper skin and glass bones.

The other girl never got a funeral.

But the galaxy left her stars behind.