Once there was a young man, his life had always been harsh on him and he always was alone. He longed for something, for acceptance, for understanding. One day, he thought he had finally found it, in a girl nevertheless. They would go on a date.
Overjoyed, he was riding his usually route to the next door town where he would pick her up at the station, yet she didn't arrive. Not after one hour, not after two, not after five. Disappointed, betrayed, he called her.
After it rang twice she picked up. The only sound he could hear was breathing. He felt ignored, hurt. After he went home, he texted her, even a couple days later he did it again, when he saw she read his message, there was no reply, nothing. After finally allowing himself to hope that there was at least one person that would accept him, everything was crushed.
Drained in sadness, he considered suicide, by jumping in front of a train, by the station he would pick her up. He thought it was fitting, to lose life at the place he lost the will to live. He drove there on his bike, since a car would be identified quicker and he didn't want people who didn't care act like they did.
He crossed the tracks, arriving at the other side of the station, where he parked his bike, between all others. Then he started to walk several hundred meters up track, because most trains at the station stop there, to prevent them from stopping on time. He wanted certainty.
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After fifteen minutes of walking, he finally found the perfect spot, hidden behind some bushes, he could jump before they could notice him. As he walked up to that exact spot, he noticed something strange. The leaves of a certain shrub were reddish, like you see them in autumn, yet it wasn't that time of the year and it looked like it was even blooming. on second thought, they had a different colour, a deeper red, the same red as blood....
Afraid, but intrigued, he ventured into the bush. He heard cracking sounds as he stepped upon dry sticks. He then noticed a phone and as he picked it up, he felt it was quite sticky. It was broken, cracked, unusable. He then heard someone breathing, the same breathing he heard on the phone a week earlier. He slowly came to realise it wasn't the breathing of a girl, it was too heavy.
He suddenly felt a cold sensation against his throat. He froze, feeling how sharp the sensation was. The unknown person whispered in his ear, ordered him to look down. He almost fainted. What he had thought to be branches, were actually bones. Lots and lots of bones.
Even worse, as he kept looking, he saw that the sticky sensation was one of blood. There was blood on the phone. He threw it away from him, but didn't move a single inch away from where he stood. The knife was still there.
He heard a thud. The phone had hit something, something soft. Scared, but too curious to not look. He blamed himself for it, he wouldn't want to see it, but he could not not look. There she was, her face intact, her limbs twisted, her chest and stomach cut open.
He puked, ignoring the knife cutting into his throat by the movement.
Yet he felt relieved, however so slightly, he wasn't betrayed. She didn't betray him. That was the last sensation he ever felt, along with the burning of his stomach acid in his mouth and the sharp pain of cutting, tears rolling down his cheek.