Sylas(pov)
The screen blinked back at me.
> Application Status: Rejected.
Harvard. Stanford. MIT. Even the backups — gone.
No waitlists. No second chances. Just... No.
A little line of text.
So small.
So quiet.
But it might as well have screamed.
---
The cursor hovered over the other tabs — the other colleges — like maybe they'd be different. I clicked each one. One by one.
Each time: "We regret to inform you…"
I stared.
Not breathing. Not blinking.
My body was still.
But inside?
Inside, something broke.
---
I slammed the laptop shut.
The noise startled me — louder than I expected. Sharp. Final.
I stood up too fast. The chair tipped backward, hit the floor with a crack.
"Sky?" Mom's voice floated in from the kitchen.
I didn't answer.
I walked in silence to the mirror above my desk.
Looked at myself.
Same black hoodie. Same tired eyes. Same fake calm.
And all I could think was: "This is who I destroyed myself to become?"
---
Mom peeked into the room. Her smile was gentle, a little worried.
"Hey. Did the results come?"
I didn't turn around.
She stepped in slowly. "It's okay, sweetheart. Whatever it says, we're still proud of you."
Something in me snapped.
I turned.
"No. No, it's not okay."
Her eyes widened. "Sky—"
"You don't get it, do you?" My voice cracked. "I didn't do all this for me. I did it for you. For him. For this family."
Her smile vanished.
"I gave up everything—sleep, friends, being a kid—because you two kept saying I'd make it. Because you looked at me like I was your future."
"Skyler, we never—"
"Yes, you did!" I shouted. "Every time you smiled when I stayed late to study. Every time Dad called me 'the professor' like it meant something. You made me feel like I had to win."
She stepped forward, softly. "We just wanted you to have choices. We never—"
"You don't get it." My voice dropped. Bitter. Shaking. "I failed. All of it. Everything you worked for. Gone."
She reached for me. "It's not gone. It's just—"
I pushed her hand away.
"I don't want comfort. I want it to matter. I want something to make this feel worth it!"
Silence.
Just her eyes, glassy now. Her mouth half open like she wanted to say something, but the words were stuck.
She backed out of the room slowly.
Didn't slam the door.
Didn't yell.
She just left me alone.
And somehow… that hurt more.
---
An hour passed.
Then two.
I heard the front door open.
Dad's voice came in. "Hey, kiddo. What's the news?"
I didn't answer.
He came to my doorway, still wearing his work overalls, grease stains on his sleeves. "You okay?"
I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
"You didn't get in?" he asked gently.
I didn't move.
"That's alright," he said, walking in. "We've got other options. You're smart. You'll figure something out."
I sat up. Looked at him like a stranger.
"You don't get it either."
He frowned. "Sky—"
"You weren't here," I said quietly. "All those nights. You were never here."
"I was working—"
"Exactly," I snapped. "And the only time you ever looked proud was when I brought home good grades."
"That's not true."
"It is," I said. "You didn't raise a son. You raised a grade machine."
He took a step back, like I'd hit him.
I didn't care.
"Don't act like it's fine now. You both made this matter so much that failing feels like dying."
"Skyler."
"Just go."
I turned away, back on the bed, facing the wall.
He stood there for a long time.
Then left.
---
That was the last time I saw either of them alive.
---
They left after dinner to grab groceries.
Mom said she'd make pasta. Dad wanted to pick up his favorite wine.
They didn't come back.
A truck ran a red light.
The officer said it was instant. No suffering. Just impact and silence.
---
I listened to the voicemail three times.
Just to hear the words.
> "I'm sorry to inform you…"
The rest blurred together.
I sat in the kitchen. Alone.
Their dinner plates were still on the counter.
The smell of garlic bread still lingered in the air.
---
I screamed.
Not words. Just pain.
I hurled the plates. The mugs. The framed family photo.
Glass shattered like my voice.
I fell to my knees, pounding the floor with both fists.
"I didn't mean it."
"I didn't mean it—"
Over and over.
"I was just angry."
"You were supposed to be here."
"You were supposed to forgive me."
Days blurred.
Nights stretched like ink across my thoughts, staining everything I used to be.
I don't remember when I stopped checking the time. Or when food stopped tasting like anything. Or when my hands stopped feeling warm.
It just… happened.
Like winter.
Quiet.
Unforgiving.
---
I tried to hold on. At first.
Told myself it was just grief. That it would pass. That I had to be strong.
But strength is a lie people tell you when they don't know what else to say.
---
I'd wake up past noon, the bedsheets twisted like I'd fought them all night. The house felt too big, too cold.
Their shoes were still by the door.
Their mugs still on the shelf.
Their laughter still lived in the corners, too stubborn to fade.
And I hated it.
Because it reminded me of what I lost. Of who I used to be.
A boy who believed in tomorrow.
---
I stopped responding to texts.
Stopped opening the curtains.
The world outside kept moving — like it didn't even notice I'd stopped.
The silence grew louder each day.
Until it became the only thing I heard.
---
One day, I walked past the mirror.
And I didn't recognize the person staring back.
Hollow cheeks. Dull eyes. A body there, but no one inside.
I reached out, touched the glass. It felt colder than I remembered.
> "I miss them," I whispered. "But I miss me too."
---
I stopped eating regularly.
Didn't mean to. I just forgot.
There were whole days I didn't move from the couch.
Just laid there, staring at the ceiling like it might split open and take me away.
It didn't.
Not yet.
---
The weather grew colder.
I didn't bother turning on the heater.
Just wrapped myself in the same hoodie Dad bought me. The one that still smelled faintly like engine oil and burnt coffee.
I clutched a photo frame as I drifted between sleep and waking.
Me. Mom. Dad. All smiling.
A world that no longer existed.
---
At some point, my body started failing. Quietly. Gradually.
No drama. No blood.
Just exhaustion.
Complete, suffocating exhaustion.
Like my soul was slowly unplugging from the world.
And I didn't fight it.
Not because I wanted to die.
But because I didn't have anything left to live for.
---
One night, I collapsed.
Just… fell.
Right there on the living room floor.
The light from the window bathed the room in soft gray.
My fingers were numb.
My breath came shallow.
And in that moment, I didn't feel pain.
Just… peace.
End of chapter