The tears are beginning to cloud my vision, blurring it around the edges, but I know I must not give up. So I do the only thing I know how to do; I run. I run as fast as my legs can take me, leaving everything behind; this time, not looking back.
I sigh in sorrow, as I slump against the wall in an alley in who knows where. I check my watch, "11:11," I whisper to myself. I decide to make a wish. It's not like it can backfire on me... I think.
I wished for everything to go back to the way it was, before "the incident;" before I lost it, before I lost her.
YOU ARE READING
Picking Up the Pieces
Ficção AdolescenteThe tears are beginning to cloud my vision, blurring it around the edges, but I know I must not give up. So I do the only thing I know how to do; I run. I run as fast as my legs can take me, leaving everything behind; this time, not looking back.
