Sam Wii Deleted You Novels & Stories

Hazel whispers something into my ear, and it sends me back to yesteryear. "Sam's started purging again this week," Hazel informs me. I remember the nightmares of Sam vomiting out of control. She hated herself when she'd throw up. "Sam, is that true? Have you started purging again," I ask as she nods slightly? Her embarrassment forces our eyes to part. She's wearing my hoodie. Her hair is a mess. It looks like she hasn't taken it off since I abandoned her emotions on my doorsteps. "Sam, look at me. Why do you feel so horrible about yourself? Why have you started purging again," I repeat?

She laughs. “Crazy. Okay.” I took my phone and then... oh my god. I remember, I deleted the number. Argh! “What’s wrong?” Irene ask me. “I deleted his number.” I facepalm. “Oh gosh.” She shakes her head. I bit my lower lip. Ah, what an unlucky day! —

The crib was empty, and everything was gone. Even our wedding portrait had been taken down. The room held nothing of mine except the faint trace of my scent still lingering on the pillow. Every sign that I had ever existed in this house had been erased. I had been desperate enough to wipe away every last trace, to leave him with nothing to hold onto. Jasper slid down the side of the bed and crumpled onto the floor, clutching the pillow to his chest. His shoulders shook violently, and a single hot tear rolled down his face.

Harvey still did not manage to see me in the end. Grandma said, "I've made a promise to Maddie. She told me she never wanted to see you again." Harvey did not lose it when he was stripped of his glory, but he snapped at that moment. He looked at the garden pavilion, where my body lay, and tried to barge over. This time, everyone but Joshua rushed over and pinned him down. Harvey yelled, "You aren't actually dead, are you, Maddison? You must've still been alive! I didn't ask you to die! How could you… How dare you die!"

The hacker was thin, twitchy, and spoke too fast. “Deleted data doesn’t always stay deleted, depends on overwrite cycles, depends on the device, depends how lucky you are—” “Can you do it?” I snapped. He blinked. “Yes.” “Then do it.” Thirty minutes. That was all it took for my stomach to feel like it was being scraped hollow. Silas stayed near the window, arms crossed. I could feel him watching me every few minutes. At one point he said softly, “Breathe.” I didn’t even realize I wasn’t.