So I wrote this story with two ends. I’ve asked a lot of people which one is best and they gave a lot of different answers. Therefore, I am going to post them both! Feel free to comment your favorite ending!!

Ending 1

I loved her. She was everything to me. I can’t live without her. Ever. She is beautiful to me even now. 

I walk to my friend’s house. It’s a short walk, I only live a few houses down. I knock on the door and wait. Nobody answers. I hear her dog barking on the other side. I know she’s home; we are going to the concert tonight. What could she be doing? I let myself in. She gave me a key about a year ago. 

“Shelby, it’s me, Brittany!” I yell. 

Nothing. I walk up the stairs. I still don’t see her.

“Shelby, this isn’t funny!” I get worried. 

Where is she? I walk to her room.

“Shelb! We got to go!” I angrily shout and open the door. I quickly shut it, then open it slowly. Is that real? Am I dreaming? There she is. Dead on the floor. I run to her and go to check for a pulse. My fingers slip inside her warm, gushy throat. She had slit her own throat, the knife barely in her hand. Oh god. I knew she had some problems, but she never said that they were this bad. If only she had talked to me, I would have been there for her. 

Sorrow quickly turns to panic. What am I going to do? Who do I call? She has no one but me. Only me. Nobody knows but me. I calm down and think, “She can finally be mine.”

“There is blood everywhere!” I shout to her body. I go downstairs to get a rag and bucket. “We got to clean this up!” I get back to her. She is still perfect.

I pick her up by her arms and struggle to drag her to the bathroom. “Now to get you in the tub!” I cheerfully giggle. I remove her clothes and throw them aside. It takes a few minutes to get her inside the tub, her deadweight is almost too much for me. I go back to the rag and bucket and start cleaning the blood off the floor. It takes hours and I still need something to get the stain out of the carpet.

I go back to the bathroom, and I turn on the showerhead. I run the water over her body. Blood flows down her chest, It’s kind of chunky because of the coagulation. I rinse her hair, getting the sticky blood out of it. “I’ve always loved your hair,” I said to her. I put shampoo in my hands and rub it into her scalp. 

After her bath, I lay her on the bed. “We’ll get you dressed in a minute,” I assure her. I look at her on the bed. All I see is the giant gash in her neck. “This simply won’t do.” I find some thick yarn and a needle. I sew her neck shut the best I can and feel satisfied with myself. I walk over to her closet and pick out my favorite dress. “I really like this one on you,” I smile and walk back to the bed. It almost feels as though she is smiling back. I remember the first time I saw her in this dress. She was going to dinner with some guy that would never appreciate her as I do. 

I wrestle with her to get it on. “Come on now! You got to help me a little,” I say sitting her up. She falls back over. “Hmm.” I stand there for a minute, I see myself in her full-length mirror. The reality of what is going on sinks in. What am I doing? She’s a corpse. 

Then the fear sets in. Someone is going to find out what I’ve done. It’s only a matter of time. What am I going to do they are going to take me from her! Finally, it comes to me. “I know a way we can be together forever!” I squeal. I run over to the knife. I pick it up and look at the blood dried on it. I forcefully run it across my throat. Blood fills my airway, and I collapse to the floor. 


Ending 2

I loved her. She was everything to me. I can’t live without her. Ever. She is beautiful to me even now. 

I walk to my friend’s house. It’s a short walk, I only live a few houses down. I knock on the door and wait. Nobody answers. I hear her dog barking on the other side. I know she’s home; we are going to the concert tonight. What could she be doing? I let myself in. She gave me a key about a year ago. 

“Shelby, it’s me, Brittany!” I yell. 

Nothing. I walk up the stairs. I still don’t see her.

“Shelby, this isn’t funny!” I get worried. 

Where is she? I walk to her room.

“Shelb! We got to go!” I angrily shout and open the door. I quickly shut it, then open it slowly. Is that real? Am I dreaming? There she is. Dead on the floor. I run to her and go to check for a pulse. My fingers slip inside her warm, gushy throat. She had slit her own throat, the knife barely in her hand. Oh god. I knew she had some problems, but she never said that they were this bad. If only she had talked to me, I would have been there for her. 

Sorrow quickly turns to panic. What am I going to do? Who do I call? She has no one but me. Only me. Nobody knows but me. I calm down and think, “She can finally be mine.”

“There is blood everywhere!” I shout to her body. I go downstairs to get a rag and bucket. “We got to clean this up!” I get back to her. She is still perfect.

I pick her up by her arms and struggle to drag her to the bathroom. “Now to get you in the tub!” I cheerfully giggle. I remove her clothes and throw them aside. It takes a few minutes to get her inside the tub, her deadweight is almost too much for me. I go back to the rag and bucket and start cleaning the blood off the floor. It takes hours and I still need something to get the stain out of the carpet.

I go back to the bathroom, and I turn on the showerhead. I run the water over her body. Blood flows down her chest, It’s kind of chunky because of the coagulation. I rinse her hair, getting the sticky blood out of it. “I’ve always loved your hair,” I said to her. I put shampoo in my hands and rub it into her scalp. 

After her bath, I lay her on the bed. “We’ll get you dressed in a minute,” I assure her. I look at her on the bed. All I see is the giant gash in her neck. “This simply won’t do.” I find some thick yarn and a needle. I sew her neck shut the best I can and feel satisfied with myself. I walk over to her closet and pick out my favorite dress. “I really like this one on you,” I smile and walk back to the bed. It almost feels as though she is smiling back. I remember the first time I saw her in this dress. She was going to dinner with some guy that would never appreciate her as I do. 

I wrestle with her to get it on. “Come on now! You got to help me a little,” I say sitting her up. She falls back over. “Hmm.”

That was fifteen years ago now. I moved into her apartment with her shortly after that. I kept the apartment paid for and called her work to inform them she quit. No one knew she was with me. Dead. The smell, you ask? Well, I looked into the embalming process. I even became a mortician to cover up my purchases. It was all going well until now until I got cancer. Who will take care of my love now? When I’m gone? My only solace is knowing we’ll be together in the afterlife.

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