capítulo trece [13]
......
his life became a drag; he seemed to be going through one cycle every single day. he zoned out quite often, stopped paying attention to the taunts and teases, and stopped hanging around her.
he saw her everyday though. she was happy, but that's because she had someone to keep her happy, while he had no one.
he found himself in mrs. richards office, just staring at the mahogany wood desk.
"i think i might kill myself," he said, averting his eyes to meet hers. "dean," she was saddened by his state. she knew he was capable of hurting himself badly, that's why she had taken him in, instead of letting him go to the foster care.
"i'm sending you to a therapist."
"no."
"dean, it's for your own good. and it seems as though you have no choice because i am your guardian now."
dean's eyes were dark and cold, and they held a cold, hard stare. he had changed a lot since the incident, and now, it was getting out of hand.
"does a dead person really need a guardian?"
......
so my life is pretty much shit, and so is this story.
YOU ARE READING
unhappy
Short Story... he still felt a heavy weight on his shoulders; he still felt the needles and pins in his stomach; he still felt the pain after all these years. he was just an unhappy boy. just so unhappy. [ REWRITTEN 8/11/2014 ] -- [highest ranking; short story...
