"hey." i let out in a shaggy breath. "i got something to tell you."
"what is it?" he questions, sounding as if he's in a bit of a hurry.
"are you going out? never mind, it can wait." i respond not wanting him to miss out.
"no! i just, yeah i'm in a bit of a rush." he admits with a sign. i can tell he's been stressing out.
"yeah. it's not even important." i assure him, faking a smile even though he can't see me.
from across the room, the red stains on my sweater's sleeves mock me.
"you're the best, got to go." he ends the call, leaving me. i nod, clinging onto the telephone.
i gulp down the tears, promising myself not to cry. not again, not for him.
BINABASA MO ANG
wrong number !! phan
Short Story"wrong number." says a familiar voice. (a/n look sis i wrote this when i was a dumbass kid and like 15 years old. this shit is tough. i romanized depression and suicide and honestly i'm a dumbass bitch ass whore. i'm toxic and feel free to cancel me...
