James stared blankly at the white faded walls. He hated hospitals. They were cold, depressing and dull.
It had been four hours. Four hours of relentless torture and utter fear. He couldn't sit still. Chewing his nails, he couldn't help but dread what he would happen next.
He remembered how he had called her name. She'd turned around and glanced at him, an emotionless, numb expression on her face. Her eyes weren't the bright green they used to be. They were dark, subdued, and empty. Alaska wasn't the same. He couldn't save her. It happened all too quickly.
The driver.
The car.
The scream.
The end.
A little girl with curls of brown hair appeared at the other end of the hall, snapping him out of his trance. It was Alaska's eight-year-old sister, Nova.
She stared directly at him with her blue jean faded eyes. Her cheeks were tear-stained. James knew this wasn't a good sign.
She approached him, slowly and carefully.
James took out a wrinkled paper and wrote, "Hi Nova. How's your sister?"
She took it and glanced at him for a split second, before scribbling down, "She is asleep. Mommy is scared. I am too."
James took a shaky breath. He knew what this meant. He reached into his school bag, feeling a weight of stress being pressed upon his shoulders. He handed Nova an envelope. "Give this to Alaska, okay?"
- - - - - - -
Dear Alaska,
When we were fourteen, we were assigned a project together. It was the first time I had met you. Your hair had highlights of lavender. You told me how you were planning to dye it pink the following year, but I guess you'd changed your mind. You never dyed it pink. You kept it your natural hair colour after that. It's a random thing to mention, I know, but it's the one thing I remember the most about you. It's special in its own, weird way I guess.
You've changed a lot since then - in a good way, of course.
The point is, I miss you. It's been four hours since the accident, and I can't stop thinking about you. I'm sorry about what happened earlier today. I hope you forgive me.
I love you. Please, get well soon.
-James
YOU ARE READING
Dear Alaska,
Short Story"A million words would not bring you back. I know, because I've tried. A million tears would not bring you back. I know, because I've cried." ------- James couldn't help but stare into her eyes. They were emerald green, speckled with das...
