"Kyle?" I call the Teen Help Service.
My shoulder is hurting, pain I can't stop, can't help.
It's a different pain. Not internal, not self-inflicted.
"Amy? Hi, it's me, Sarah."
"Where's Kyle?"
"Sick," she says. Her voice falters and I hang up.
YOU ARE READING
melancholia ✔︎
Short Storyall i need is a reason to live. a reason to keep living in this hell you call life. because melancholia is just too hard to control all alone.
