One of them has to die ✔️
  • Reads 155
  • Votes 12
  • Parts 7
  • Time 1h 25m
  • Reads 155
  • Votes 12
  • Parts 7
  • Time 1h 25m
Complete, First published Mar 26, 2021
*Completed*
T.W. This short story is based around the loss of a friend, and coping with that loss with therapy. 
~~~
I placed the letter back down onto the small coffee table, wiping away the tears that rested in the corner of my eyes.

"How do you feel, Samuel?" the doctor asked, hovering her pen over a piece of paper.

"I feel the same way I did the last time you made me read that letter" I responded back, a slight bitterness in my voice. 

"And how did you feel?" 

"Lost. Lonely. Hurt. Betrayed." I listed, watching as she wrote it all down, listening as the pen scratched against the paper roughly. 

"Anything else?" She pressed on, staring down on me like an ant. 

"I lost my best friend. How do you think I fucking feel?" The tone of my voice made her flinch slightly, but she quickly regained her professionalism. 

"Samuel, I need you to calm down. Shouting at me isn't going to do you any good". She pushed her glasses further up her face as she scribbled more onto the page. 

"Shouting?" I scoffed, "I wasn't shouting, and I have the right to be angry at someone who's forcing me to re-read my dead best friends suicide note everytime I'm forced to see them". 

~~~

[started 26/03/2021]
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Once Caleb reached the bottom of the stairs he quietly opened the door and tiredly switched on the light "Jayden it isn't morning yet buddy you need to-" he froze in place staring at a man he didn't know standing in his living room. The man stared back at him like a deer in the headlights, he looked a few years older than Caleb, had stubble growing around his face, dark brown greasy hair that wasn't styled in any particular way and was wearing full black aside from the muddy navy blue trainers he was sporting. "Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?" Caleb demanded in a hushed whisper, he also noticed the black backpack the stranger was carrying and the open living room window he'd clearly used to gain entry, the vase that was previously rested on the windowsill lay in pieces on the ground, that must've been the crash that had awoken Caleb from his tranquil slumber. "Just a passerby, no one much" the strange man whispered back an air of mystery hanging about his every word. "Inside my living room?" Caleb replied folding his arms and sizing the man up, after his beating earlier in the evening he wasn't exactly fighting fit, the intruder was also taller and muscly, there's no way Caleb would win if it came to a fight. "Consider me Santa Claus alright? Now go back to bed kid" the man answered calmly pointing at the door as if Caleb was a child. "I'm not a little kid anymore, I'm 18. Santa isn't real" Caleb responded harshly taking a step forward, the man noticeably took a step towards the window eyeing Caleb up with a smirk. TWs (these will not be appearing at the top of chapters so take this as your final warning) Abuse Self Harm Smut Rape Homophobia Themes of Suicide Murder Mentions of Disordered Eating This story is not promoting, encouraging, romanticising or glorifying topics such as suicide, self harm, disordered eating, sexual abuse/misconduct, it is just showing what the affects of it can be like especially for LGBT+ young people.