Orson sat on the edge of his bed, razor in his hand.
The rest of their day was nice, but as soon as he got home, it went away.
He hadn't used the blade since before his accident, and he tried not to, but as the days went by, the worse the feeling to use it got.
The pain was too much. It was too much hiding it around Astra.
He needed it gone.
She was too nice. He didn't deserve her, but no matter how much he wanted to push her away, he couldn't. He couldn't push her away, there was something about her that made him want to keep her.
To keep her in his life.
But he couldn't, especially since he only had 9 days left. Almost 8 days.
Orson's hands were shaking as he held tightly onto the razor blade.
It wasn't going to get better. He tried to believe her, he tried to believe when she told him he'd be okay again. He tried to believe that she could help him, that she could save him, but it wasn't true.
Nobody could help him.
Nobody could save him
"I'm sorry Star." He whispered, and he used the blade.
YOU ARE READING
The love letter and the suicide note
Short StoryWhen Astra accidentally calls the wrong number when she tries to call her uncle, what she expected to only be a one night phone call, ends up being nightly phone calls with the broken boy on the other side of the line. After finding out his plan to...
