It's not really a creepy pasta. So it doesn't count. :))
An Inescapable Rain
"The pills or the gun?
The apple or the orange?
Any other fruit and you’re going on a taxi
And get the fuck out of here.
I see you made your choice."
Cheryl woke up as streaks of water laced her glass window, leaving trails of moist fog as the thunder roared across the sky. Rain. The sky through her windows was a dark, seething blob of gloominess. She stared through the windows and into the heart of the nimbus sadness.
Something was wrong.
Nothing turned out like you thought.
Her apartment was cold and desolate. The Television was on, white noise blaring its maddening chaotic sound. Papers were scattered all over the floor, and in the silence, a faucet dripped water.
There was something peculiar—something that didn’t happen.
She knew why. Lying on the desk next to her bed was a bottle of sleeping pills. She shook it. Empty. She should be nothing but a corpse right now, and a brilliant addition to this gray town.
“Fuck.” The overdose didn’t kill her.
For three days the rain came, and no one in their sane minds appeared. There was a prevailing mist that shrouded her town. Her town. Her town. For a moment, she tried to find the words to connect. No such word was found. Alarmed by her strange lost in memory, she took a look at the piece of paper on the table.
Dig deep. Very deep.
The Ink was fresh.
On the back was another note.
"Pick a fruit. Any fruit.
I ate the apple.
You can’t choose that.
The gun or the exit?
Before her three days of isolation, fragments could only come into her mind. Nothingness. Her head was throbbing from her failed death, and her heart wanted to get the orange
And eat it as the final meal she would have.
She remembered a few fragments—a high school, a college. A drifter’s life.
Gray Parker. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Elvish smile. A voice that could shatter the ice queen’s heart. Sunset drives and letters. These strange memories brought within her a nostalgia and a sense of seething anger. Why the hell couldn’t she remember? As more thoughts of Gray flooded her mind a whisper of a voice came into her.
He’s looking for the you that isn’t you.
That disembodied voice said that, God-knows-how-long-ago.