Chapter Thirty Three. Coloring The Concrete

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Ian Cros

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Ian Cros

Maybe I could have done more, had been there by her side the entire time, had tried CPR when she lay in the streets limp. In my arms, peaceful while her heart didn't beat. Isabella's blood will haunt my dreams until my time had come.

The world was heavy on my shoulders, burying me in the cold ground of blame, about to break down while my mind chattered the memories of Isabella's face. My body's such a mess, shaking back the tears.

A clump swelled in my throat while holding back the cries. The unintentional shake of my hands while I tapped my sides.

My breath trembling with a sharp wheeze as I closed my eyes and cupped my palms on my ears. Nobody to talk to. Nobody to notice my distress.

I will be alone, frozen in the dark forever.

"Dude, out of the way," a deep voice shoved from behind me.

I glanced over my hooded eyes as a jock with an EWU football jersey glared my way before strolling down the hallway.

A girl with blonde hair shuffled around him, beaming at me. She smiled from ear to ear with a skip in her step. When I returned from New York City, the campus appeared vacant, but I soon realized that the emptiness was not the college but me seeing tunnels of darkness in the halls. I walked down the busy corridors alone. My footsteps boomed like drums while the rest scurried by in a hurry.

"Ian." The blonde girl grabbed my wrist. "I've been calling for you for a while, silly."

"Oh." A barely audible sound escaped my lips.

"When did you get back?" Her high-pitched volume screeched down my spine like a cat clawing at a scratching post.

I walked with her beside me, not responding to the conversation she hoped to have. To have any communication with me would be like breaking down a brick wall with a feather duster.

"I saw Timothy run into you," the girl said before popping her gum and looping her arm in mine. "He may be the hotshot on the field, but you are the hotshot on the entire campus."

I peeked at her with annoyance, realizing I'd been pacing this hallway for about two hours now, meaning I had missed one of my lectures. The girl noticed me looking and smiled while playing with her ponytail. Her thick, scrunchy had a cheetah print on it while the massive fluffy yellow coat covered down past her skinny ass.

She snapped her gum again while I flinched away from her. The yellow reminded me of Isabella and her lifeless body, bleeding pools of blood onto her sunshine coat.

Had I been there the entire time, knowing now that my father's hit would not run me over with her? Maybe I could have done more, maybe CPR could have made a difference as she lay limp on the streets. Serene in my embrace, her heart remained still. Isabella's blood will be a haunting presence in my dreams until the end.

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