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dear ethan,
your hands are freezing, eth.
i'm trying to warm them up but dear god they are really cold.
you're doing better today. no one's told me that, but i swear i saw your finger twitch earlier & even though you feel like an ice block you just seem different, like you're recovering or something.
the cuts on your face are still there, i guess because your body isn't quite awake they can't heal. focus on waking up first tho, yeah? i know how much you would hate to see your 'model face' covered in bloody marks, but i think you can handle it for a while.
school was pretty shit today; we started a partner project in health class and of course you weren't there to do it. so the teacher suggested i went in a group of three with melissa - of all fucking people - and her partner, instead of working on my own.
i would rather sell my soul to the devil.
but anyways, i was kinda forced to because for some god damn reason the teacher seems to think that melissa and me are friends. fat fucking chance.
i didn't slap her though, so i'll just sit here and wait for your praise when you wake up. ;)
love from your best friend who is such a lovely human bean and didn't punch the human embodiment of satan even though she really wanted to,
chloe. xx
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YOU ARE READING
dear ethan | ✓
Short Story❝ wake up; i miss you. ❞ in which a girl sends letters to her best friend; whilst he lies half alive in a hospital bed. 「 copyright elsie cooper lowercase intended for stylistic purposes 」
