29th November
I grieved for Abrielle. Of course I did. I was genuinely sorry that she was dead. Of course I was, but I have to admit that a tiny part of me was furious with her. I can seem I said to myself what she is saying. 'You killed me, Edward, You did, So suffer' And I did suffer a bit, but I got over it. I went to Art school. I met Annie. We fell in love and married. Beth was born. I hardly ever thought about Abrielle. Then a few months ago, the dreams started. Dr Armstrong said: 'Tell me what happens in these dreams, why they are so dreadful?' 'They don't sound dreadful when I tell them,' I said, 'It's Abrielle speaking. Just her head floating in water, with her hair drifting backwards and forwards like seaweed. She says: I'm coming, I haven't forgotten. I'll be there soon, Very soon, and then we will be together for ever. I shall touch you, she says and then she stretches out two hands in front of her and they're all bones and fragments if skin and I know that if I don't wake up now she will clutch me in her hideous fingers' 'Hmm' Dr Armstrong said. 'How very unpleasant. You clearly still feel responsible for Abrielle's unfortunate accident... still perceive it as suicide. Have you tried painting a picture of her? or perhaps making a clay model... Maybe that would help...giving your nightmares a real, physical presence' I promised Dr Armstrong that I would try.
YOU ARE READING
Abrielle
Любовные романыA mysterious story about a man still had these nightmares about a girl, he fell for in his teen's year. (Please do comment, i need to improve my writing as this book is my first time)
