A Letter To My Love: A Stolen Novel

Chapter 6

The outside was beautiful, and you were missing it. I was missing it too. I've been here with you for too long, but you needed time. I didn't realize how much time. How much time it would take that you'd stop fighting this and learn to love this land. This paradise. And another thing was I was actually pretty tired, but I was more concerned about you than I'll ever be about me. You're pretty much my better half. I stifled a yawn as I heard the bed crinkle with your twisting and turning.

I didn't want to be mad at you, but you were making it pretty damn difficult. You always liked the hard way better than the easy way. You were staring at me as if you were finally going to accept this... This life is your own. "Don't do that again." My voice cracked, and for a second, I thought the tears were about to start flowing again. "You'll hurt yourself." I blinked to keep the tears in check. "Does it matter?" You whispered, but your words were saying something else. Of course, you weren't going to accept this, not that easily anyway.

Your words were saying, "Just kill me; I'd be happier that way." And your eyes were saying, "Or maybe I'll kill you and escape." I pushed those nonsense words away from that you didn't speak on your cracked and dry lips and tried to force a smile. It was a failed attempt. "Of course," I said to your question to let you know that I heard you.

You held my gaze for a second before the awkwardness got to you and your eyes fluttered around the room, taking in your surroundings. Your eyes met the ceiling, and they stayed there until your eyes weren't as awkward anymore. Those beautiful greens. The eyes of an angel. The eyes of my angel.

"Where am I?" You spoke for the first time in minutes, and it filled the void of silence. You probably weren't used to the quietness, but once your ears adjust, you'll realize that it's just softer to the ears, but it's a harmony that is much prettier than any music you'll ever hear.

"It's not Bangkok," I spoke as I inched closer. "Or Vietnam." "Then where?" You spoke harshly. I frowned. Did you not remember our conversation before the drugs? No matter what, you'll figure it out; I know you will. "You'll find out, I s'pose, eventually."

I checked my bruising by seeing how much it hurt if I touched it. It was yellow, which means it was healing, but damn, you knew how to punch someone. I winced from the pain. I turned back around to make more conversation, but at first, nothing came to mind. Finally, I had an idea. "Do you want water?" A lame idea, but still an idea. Your lips needed water, and they were harsh and dry—no moisture left in them. The moisture was all sucked out, it seemed. You shook your head, and your eyes looked sad, and you blinked. Oh no. I thought. I couldn't deal with your tears.

"What's going to happen?" You asked as you kept yourself from crying. You were a lot better at keeping your emotions in check than me, it seemed. Your gaze finally fell onto me, and I realized I'd been staring. I hastily turned away and looked back towards the window. Then instead of just staring at the window awkwardly, I left. I figured you'd probably want to gather yourself for a few moments while I was absent. I decided to take the chance to get you some water. It was brown and earthy, but it was the best that nature could give us. I came back into the room and handed you the glass. You made no effort to take it, and I sighed, holding it out to you like an idiot. "I won't do anything to you." And then I left the glass beside the bed on the bedside table and made my leave.