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Rated: 13+ · Other · Other · #1129073
please give me constructive critism on this short story
Too Little, Too Late

I was just hanging out with my friends when my cell phone vibrates. I was too into Matt’s joke to answer it.

It’s probably nothing important, I thought as I turned my phone off.

Hours go by and I decided to see what text messages I got and found that I had four missed calls and two text messages.

That’s weird. I stared at my phone. My girlfriend’s parents called me. I decided to call them back even though it was after 11 pm. Her mother answered on the first ring. Her voice sounded hoarse and full of exhaustion.

“Joe?” She said anxiously.

Instantly I became nervous. “Yeah what’s up?” I wasn’t going to worry about manners because that was the last thing on my mind.

“It’s Brenda...She...” The mother trailed off in tears.

I was alarmed. I never heard Brenda’s mother cry before. She is a self-determined dominant mother who only believes in sticking to the rules. Never once did I see emotions show from her face. “What happened to her?” I whispered.

After moments of the mother crying, she finally told me the news. Brenda killed herself. My girlfriend killed herself. I knew I wasn’t that good on calling her back or caring for her when she really needed me and now it was all too late.

I should have kept my phone on. I should have called her when she got into another fight with her mom so I could calm her down. I said all the things that I could have done so the woman that I love could be still alive today.

I was struggling to hold back tears until I was off the phone but the tears were winning. “How did she die?” My hand was shaking as I held the phone. I switched hands.

“She overdosed on over the counter pills. I saw her passed out on the floor and the pills were next to her, spilled everywhere. I immediately drove her to the hospital to get cared for and she died.”

I said a quiet “thank you for telling me” and hung up the phone. I usually don’t cry, probably because I’m a guy and we just don’t do that kind of stuff but I did. I cried like I did when I was little and I watched my mother walk away from our family. I stared at the sky and asked “Why?”

At the funeral, I dressed all in black and went inside the church. I saw her family, talking and gathered around the coffin. I was too choked up to say anything so I just hugged the parents and walked over to Brenda. My girlfriend. I held her hand and noticed it was cold. Her eyes were closed and dressed in a nice blue dress. Her silky black hair was usually so bouncy, but now, so flat.

The ceremony was very nice. I heard lots of stories about the good times people had when she was alive. How her smile lit up a room wherever she went.

I think that when my girlfriend died, my heart died along with her.
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