Freshman Years

Chapter twenty six.

_Harrys point of view_

Death.

It's such a cold, morbid word.

We each hold a different opinion, withhold different aspects for the word. People would usually conclude the word as an end of someone's life, person and or organism. The permanent ending of life, but I knew she wouldn't endeavour the word into herself, to let it take over her.

She was stronger than that. I know it.

Even when she lay lifeless before me, I'd never seen anything so beautiful. So majestic. So alluring.

So fragile. So hurt. So unstable.

The tubes in and out of her pale body. One going all the way in her mouth, down her throat, past her esophigus, trachea and blood vessels serving the head situated.

After every strained breath left her agaped mouth, the follow up of her life support machine beeped instantly afterwards. The sound was a relief of her stability, but a torment of her state.

I hate you, I fucking hate you.

It's all your fault.

Me, your Ken, your girlfriend, I was raped, because of you.

Her sinister words replaying over and over again in my broken mind. I felt like I was going insane. On the verge of constraining myself. Fighting the urge to beat the life out of a doctor for not helping her, for not getting her to awake. Humanity to me now is nothing but a blare, just a fragment of a word levertating around the air I breathed, and the air Kendall struggled to take in.

All these thoughts obliterating my mind slowly as I watched her breathe shallow breaths. Her long dark hair, fanned out on the pillow beneath her sweat beaded head. Even without makeup, she was the most beautiful girl I have ever encountered myself with, no one could compete to her aura of sophistication nor beauty, it would be impossible.

I sat stiffly on the light burgundy leather chair, one hand leaning on top of the arm rest whilst the other nipped my lip, not caring that they were probably holding a tint of purple and changing into a dramatic blue. My hand gliding through my jungle of curls now and again as my knees shuddered, my feet tapping the floor exceedingly fast.

My now, darkened, green orbs frantically stared at every inch of her body, even with the thin, appalling excuse of a blanket hugging her small frame, her big bust and curves shone through, the white material hugging and complimenting her figure in such a way, that it was torturing me as I couldn't contemplate how much of a Goddess she looked like, she can't hear me.

But my mind soon clicked. She can't move. She can't talk. She can't blink, twitch her fingers or even itch an irritated area on her body, but she can hear me, she can't answer, but she can hear.

My ken can listen to how much of a fool I am.

I screech the chairs legs across the pale blue floor until I'm inches away from Ken. I bring both my hands to my mouth and breathe out, warming them before my fingers came into contact with hers.

I slowly picked up her skinny wrist. My fingers followed through her veins on her forearm, her creamy skin wrapped under my touch. I lightly skimmed the tip of my nails down her hand until I reached her palm, my nails following the lines carefully, I wonder if she could feel this, does she mind me touching her? Does she want me to stop? But all them thoughts are soon pushed away once my fingers intertwine with hers.