two more weeks had passed, but he couldn't find the courage to visit his friend. not like this.
not when his mind was in pieces and his body numb and his knuckles bloody. not when his vision was blurred and sleep was a foreign concept. not when his thoughts had engulfed him completely.
and definitely not when images of the accident became all too much for him to bear.
and so he continued.
losing himself piece by piece. drinking away his pain. he always tried to be headstrong, to be factual. to not let emotions cloud judgement, to do what needed to be done, no matter what collateral that might bring.
but now, after days of continous drinking, he was simply lost. he could exactly remember how many time he had fallen off the edge. twice. and yet this felt different. now he was alone again. now he was in a place he feared the most. now we was in a place he had tried so hard to never be in anymore.
but for tonight he didn't care. tonight he wanted to be thoughtless, wanted to be away from his mind. tonight he just drank. slowly erasing this unfamiliar feeling of doubt and sorrow, slowly erasing feelings of loneliness, slowly erasing all he had come to be.
even if that meant that he had to erase who he was himself.
YOU ARE READING
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐄
Short Storyan almost decade old story. * "one tragedy changed their lives." a story with dialogues and minimal description, in which a boy ends up in the hospital after a car accident and his friend slowly collapsing under the weight of his tortured mind. but...
