SAM
Ever since that day, I looked out my window, a perfect view into her backyard. I saw her cry, I saw her smile, I saw her think. Whenever my Dad got angry, whenever his fist met my jaw, or my arm, or my stomach, I thought of that girl, her sad eyes and broken heart. It gave me a sort of strength that I couldn't explain. Her eyes were in my dreams. I was only eight, but if anyone asked I would've said I loved her.
10 years later
My face was to the ground and I wached my worn brown shoes hit the cement, thinking of lyrics I could use in a new song.
stuttered words and empty space
shift and turn until I can't feel safe
my heart, it burns where I can't take
I can't go to sleep 'cause I'm afraid I'll wake.
"Hey." a soft, feminine voice pulled me out of my thoughts and pulled me back to reality. It took me a second to comprehend that it was aimed towards me.
I turned and felt the reply on my tounge, and right before it slipped, my vision exploded with blue. I recognized her immediately, seeing that the intensity of her eyes hadn't softened one bit. I realized I was staring at her, her splash of freckles, her pale skin, her long, dark hair, and her eyes. "Hey" I replied, just to say it, even though I had clearly acknowleged her presence.
Then it was just her. The same girl who I'd looked through my window, the same girl I had carried from the rose bush. It was just her and me and the world had stopped in my hands and I wasn't breathing.
"You're Sam right?" I heard her friend say, The world spun back to reality as I looked over to an overly excited girl with brown curls, happy eyes. I replied to her comments the best I could while thinking over and over again to myself; "Thats her. Thats HER."
In ten years, I finally had a name to go with her beautiful face. Her name was Hope, Hope Stryder. I liked how it felt on my tounge.
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ANCHOR
Teen FictionHope Stryder has always been haunted with sadness of her father's death, but mostly content with her average, 17 year old life. When a boy, Sam, appears from her past she finds herself being pulled right into line of a perfect, broken life.
