The Abyss: A short story

Back to Article
Back to Article

The Abyss: A short story

Delilah Rose

Delilah Rose

Delilah Rose

Stephany Massart, Reporter

Hang on for a minute...we're trying to find some more stories you might like.


Email This Story






She had said she was depressed.  She had told me multiple times. She tried to ask me for help, but I just wouldn’t listen to her.  I ignored you, pushing off her statements as just a joke. If only I had been smart enough to realize that it hadn’t been a joke.  She had been 100% serious. She had meant every word that she said when she said it. She was my very best friend, my closest friend even.  She was the only one I felt I could trust completely and talk to about anything I needed to at that moment. She always listened and accepted me, flaws and all.  She would help me up when I was feeling down. She always made sure I was okay and that nothing was wrong. And the moment she needed my help, I let her down, free to fall into the dark hole that was depression.  I wasn’t able to help her because I couldn’t listen long enough to hear the meaning behind her words. Instead, I took it at face value and said that she was joking. I should have listened. I should have been there for her when she so desperately needed someone to be.  I should have cheered her up and made her feel better. I should have returned the favor and done to her what she had done to me; helped me through all of my very toughest times. She was able to bring me back into the stars of happiness, but I had let her float away into the dark abyss.  I know now that I should have done many things, but it’s too late to turn back the clock. What’s done is done. There’s no reversing what had happened. Because I hadn’t listened when I was truly needed, my best friend would never be able to experience life any longer. She would forever be 16.