Hello again my dear Starfaulters,

I have a heartbreaking one shot for you. It can be considered as an alternate ending too. It is absolutely beautiful and I hope you guys love/hate it as much as I did when I read it. -sigh- It's beautiful.

Disclaimer: The following story is not mine. I got it from the facebook page 'Lonely, Vaguely Pedophilic Swing Set Seeks the Butts of Children' and it was written by the admin The Delly Sammich


I lay on her bed, sobbing into her pillow, trying to get the last bit of smell of her. "Hazel Grace," I mumble over and over into her bed sheets. 

Getting up, I stumble over to her desk. There lay An Imperial Affliction. Our favorite book. My fingers trace the outside of the cover, finding the title and author, Peter Van Houten

I open the book, flipping to the first page. The memories flood my mind of me giving her my books, writing my number in the book, the metaphor. 

The metaphor. 

I shut the book closed tightly. I set her book back down, and lay down on her bed again, thinking about the night I gave my virginity to her and vice-versa. It hurts so much, I squeeze my eyes shut. 

When I finally open them, my heart still hurts. It always will. I lost the love of my life to cancer. I should have known. Should have known. It should have been me. I get up from the bed, suddenly getting a craving. 

When Mr. Lancaster sees me, he starts crying on my shoulder. I hug him and we cry together. He pats my back, and we let go of our embrace. He gives me a slight nod. 

I nod back. "Do you mind if I have her-" I pause, cough, and catch my breath. "her book, sir." He looks lost.

"An Imperial Affliction." I say. He shrugs, which means yes. 

I force a smile and walk out the door. I'll be back in a few minutes and he knows that. I hardly ever leave the house, unless I have to smoke. I take the back of cigarettes from my jacket, realizing I only have three left, I make a mental note to buy more. 

I grab the lighter out of my other pocket and light it. I put the cigarette to my lips and take a long drag. 

When I blow out, I whisper. "It's not a metaphor anymore. Cancer, take me away."

I know it's not mine but tell me how you feel. (If you can actually feel anything after reading this) I thought it was absolutely beautiful despite the broken feels.

Admin Fish.