Hey, this is the first fic I write, so please be nice to me ok? is supposed to be something short, but who knows my creativity decides to give more story? Send a comment with what you think!

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Epilogue

I've lost count of how many times they came to visit me . They say it's to see if I 'm right , but in truth I know is to check if I really killed myself . I feel guilty for not valuing the only people who care about me now, but I just can not speak, or act . Even though my head is full of thoughts , they do not leave . Prefer torturing me inside, ripping and burning me . I can not feel them literally, but it's the same feeling of despair , consuming me . I do not know if you take any more .

I turned the spectator of my own life since it began . It is as if I were a third person watching this shit unfold in front of me and could not do anything , did not have the strength to change it .

I was already bored of hearing the same phrases .

_ You need to leave .

_ Are you better?

_ How do you feel ?

And after some time without answering , they stopped asking . Effy always sits next to me and watched TV . She also does not speak , and I 'm grateful for that . She always hugs me and I always sleep . Cook always comes talking too . He brings beer and cookies , and then I can get drunk and think that this is all a big daydream. Usually gets worse when I wake up , but that does not stop me from doing it again .

I have read a lot . Effy brings me books every week , and I devour almost immediately . She brings several issues and maybe if I talked we could talk about them . Then , I think. When I can talk again . I listen to a lot of music , and very high . I'm glad when I can shut the sounds of reality , even if it is killing my eardrums . And most of the time I just keep wandering from one room to another.

I no longer cry anymore . It was hard the first few weeks , but then I stopped . The medication helped , but partly because it was no use , no matter how much I cry , the pain does not go out with tears , and not diminished . I feel like there's a hole inside of me , and maybe it does not close . I have hopes that he quit one day.

I remember enjoying singing. I sang a lot. I miss singing , so I sing in my head . I like to do many things . Now I just like to sit by the window watching the movement of the cars down there . Nobody knows this , but when it rains , I open the window just a bit and let the drops fall on me . And then , this is the only time I can feel alive .