Limbo [h.s]

50

Chapter 50 Isabel's POV

Nature is a funny thing...

Let's take a leaf for example.
A leaf breaking away from its branch, away from all its known for its entire existence only to fall on the forest floor never to be nurtured by its branch again.

One day the leaf might be taken away by a gust of wind, rummaging around in the dirt until someone decides to pick it up and use it for kindling in their fire.

Let's say the leaf is lucky enough that it doesn't face the burning embers itself but stays within the fire place just on the brink of life and death.

Here's the thing though, even if the leaf isn't touching any embers the air is still hot enough that it will create a new spark, one just for the leaf causing it to erupt into flames, burning out and killing any life left inside.

After all, to those people, the leaf was just kindling.

My father had pushed me too far this time.

He had thrown me into the fireplace, careful to not let me burn straight away but let me just sit in between the embers and cold air long enough to watch me wither away and catch alight.

Heaven. Hell. Limbo. No one really knows where we are going until it's too late.

I was somewhere in between. Lying on the bathroom floor I could feel the cold tiles underneath my limp body.
It was getting harder to move, breath even but for some unknown reason I wouldn't let myself give into the array of lights just yet.

The room around me was slipping in and out of my vision. I could hear faint banging sounds surround me but I'm pretty sure that was just the beats of my heart ringing in my ears.

"Isabel, are you in there?" a voice I could distinctly recall makes itself known.

Harry? What the hell was he doing here?

"Fucks sake Isabel, can you answer me please?" He pleaded helplessly.

I briefly remember wanting to tell him to go away, to leave me be but I also remember trying to open my mouth to do so and that's when the foam started.

The solution trickled down and out my parted lips and rolled down onto the nape of my neck where my hair would catch the fallen saliva.
It was even harder to breathe now that there was build up in the way of my air way.

Even if I wanted to respond to him, there was no way I could do it now.

"Open the door or I'm coming in" I hear him slam his palm against the wooden door again.

'I can't...' were the last words I remember responding back in my head with before I lost consciousness.

"Well, where is it?"

"Here" I mumble handing over the phone to my father careful not to look him in the eye.

"This isn't his phone" I can feel his gaze burn through me, anger laced with every word.