I Still Miss You 💔. By A.ZChaudhry

Chapter 1

This is the first chapter to the new standalone book, which is shorter than TMAHLQ part I as well, so your comments and vote on this chapter can really help me. I have missed reading comments and interacting with you people through it, so please, let's just start that again. Hope you will love this chapter. Let's begin!

XANDROS

I lost him. The only family that was left of mine, I lost that too in the abyss of this world which was temporary, something that I realized for the third time, yet again, the pain never ceased to amaze me for how brutal it could get, for how harshly it could throw me to the ground once again, ignoring the fact that chains dug into my skin till blood seeped out into the ground, turning the earth to a shade of dark red, but it never cared. It never cared that I was already on the ground and sinking helplessly without anyone to help me.

It just shoveled me deeper.

But then again, pain in any form is brutal. Whether physical, emotional or mental. Worse is, when you experience all three together with no one to hold to as your feet slip and you find yourself helplessly falling and falling and falling into the deepest pits of hell that even you know, will leave you devastated and ruined like no other. Knowing that every cell will shrivel up in the heat of the fire but still wouldn't kill you, flames will lick up your insides and make you feel the burning embers marked upon the inner side of your blood vessels, shredding pieces of muscles, layer by layer till it's just a smoking hell inside of you.

Making you feel the painful burns everytime you even move, everytime you think of moving, but there is absolutely nothing that you can do.

Depression fucks you over, but it's funny how badly it kills you too, WHILE keeping you alive.

It touches everyone, the good, the bad, the innocent and the devil. Some, it breaks, some, it kills, while with some.................it makes they stay alive while it beats them daily, pounds onto them daily and leaves them bleeding to mere death daily, but still not embracing the angel of death. And in my point of view, that was the worst.

Surviving life daily, getting up daily, breathing daily just for this unseeable character of depression plunging his knife inside you every fucking day, watching the blood drain out in floods and floods of pure, crimson red rivers but being unable to do anything. Because............you just can't. It is out of your hands, it is slipping and you are numb. You can feel the pain, you can feel that it's hurting you and you can feel yourself dying each passing minute and you want to do something to end it, but........you can't.

Story of every second or third person that you meet. A walking dead human being who is just passing their time before they can finally rest. For good.

I locked the front door before throwing the keys on the kitchen counter, the sound reverberating through the whole house and echoing back towards me, the realization crawling up my skin again, biting my insides and making me sick again, reminding me of the fact that I was alone now, more alone than I have ever been. Blood rushed inside me at its own pace, sometimes fastly while sometimes, extremely slowly upon the realization that it was me now. Just me. Me living in this house, me making a living, me walking around and.............and just me. Rest were all gone.

I had a little brother, notice the "had" as the events still hurt me like twisting a broken shard of glass in your vein and still never stopping. He was the funniest of all, jolliest of all and the shining light of the house we lived in. He was the most energetic and the most cutest one amongst every one of us, anyone could say. Chubby little legs, chubby face, dimples in those rosy cheeks whenever he used to smile whether genuinely or teasingly, his front shining teeth making the other person laugh and their chest lighten with admiration and love for him.