Chapter 20:
died living.
He doesn’t wake up.
Because there’s no one left to do the waking.
There is no bed.
No ceiling.
No window.
No wind.
No breath.
No name.
Just space where he used to be.
Where a boy once stood.
A boy who tried.
Who was kind.
Who didn’t deserve it.
But kindness was never enough.
He doesn’t remember her.
Not her voice.
Not her face.
Not the rain.
Not the desk.
Not the lie that started it all.
Even the lies have stopped breathing.
The pages are empty now.
Blank where his story used to live.
The world keeps moving.
Without him.
No one says his name.
No one wonders where he went.
No one notices the empty desk by the window.
Or the boy who stopped coming to school.
Or the whispers that slowly faded, replaced by new ones.
A teacher pauses one day, as if remembering something.
Then continues with the lesson.
A classmate stares at a photo she can’t explain.
A shadow in the corner of the frame.
Familiar.
Gone.
She puts it away.
The notebook stays in the locker.
The one with carvings he left behind.
Unread.
Forgotten.
The city forgets him.
The world forgets him.
Even we forget him.
Because that was always the end, wasn’t it?
Not death.
Not punishment.
Just erasure.
He tried to hold on.
To hope.
To her.
To memory.
But even that was too much to ask.
And now—
He is gone.
Not with a scream.
Not with a goodbye.
Just
quiet.
Just
nothing.
The story ends here.
There is no final line.
There is no after.
Only this.
Blank.
White.
Empty.
Silence.
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