Her Name Was Fawn

Her Name Was Fawn

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Oct 9, 2013
This fanfiction was written by my suicidal friend. She would give me pages of the story every day and each page would mean another day of her breathing. When the last page of the story was recieved, that would be the last day of her life. When I would ask why she would do this, she wouldn't respond. I had no way to communicate with her, and I could not do anything. She would not let me say a word to anyone, as hard as I tried I promised that to her. Trust me, I am trying to do as much as possible. I wanted to share this story because of the amazing writer she is. I want to let her know that her stories can go far, even if she won't be with us one day, which I pray to God will never happen. If I save her, I know that this story will mean the world to her. I just want to post this story and show her that her writing can go so so so far. She has no idea of what I am doing, and I am not planning on telling her. Yes, this is a Larry Stylinson fanfic, but stick around, it's not your ordinary story.
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#13
harvard
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Silence

@RANDOM28lol contacted me with a story idea where they asked if they could write the poems in the story. I didn't feel like I could write the story they wanted me to but I asked them to send me one of the poems. The poem inspired me. ❤ So I suggested another concept of the story and they agreed. All the poems in the story are written by the talented @RANDOM28lol. Harry has lost his voice. He has been mute for years. Ever since his family was brutally murdered in their home. He suffers from PTSD and survivor's guilt. Thinking that not allowing himself to talk somehow honor the death of his family. It's a lonely life. He has no one to talk to. Doctors and therapists have given up on him. He writes poems as a way to express how he feels. He also writes at work. Running the gossip section of The Sun is something he despises but he's a journalist and he needs a job. No one tries to talk to him at work either. It's his own fault. But he hates how they go silent and then whisper about him as he enters the newsroom in the mornings. He keeps to himself. Until the new sports journalist catches his eye. Beautiful. Blue eyes. Wonderful smile. To his surprise, the man knows sign language and he's also determined to talk to him. Life as he knows it changes. It's scary. Will he be able to actually overcome his trauma? Be something more than a bystander of his own life? Warnings: Trauma, death.

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