Kyle's POV
"Amy?"
She's hooked up to a tangled mess of tubes and wires. Nearly lifeless.
I realised I'd never seen her before, but she looks so beautiful, her black hair framing her face in a mess of waves. The ends were a dark wine shade, a bright red slowly fading... Like her.
Her eyes were closed, her dark lashes shadowing on her pale skin, clear of freckles or blemishes.
Her slender hands fold on her lap, her bony fingers intertwined.
"She's in a coma," a nurse explains. "We're not sure when she'll wake up."
"Will she wake up?" I ask.
"Hopefully," the nurse says.
I don't understand how nurses are always so optimistic and happy.
I wouldn't be able to cope as one of them, always happy, positive, supportive, caring... Nice, friendly, cheerful...
I wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my jumper and the nurse offers me a tissue which I gladly accept.
"Can I touch her?" I ask.
The nurse gives me a strange look. I suddenly realised what I said.
"Why...?" she asks.
"No, I mean, sorry," I stutter. "I didn't mean it that way!"
The nurse laughs, a bubbly happy giggle.
"Oh! Okay," she says. "Sure! It's not contagious..."
I reach over and touch her arm.
It's still warm and her pulse is still there.
I gently brush my hand up her arm and then I notice them.
Scars.
Still mending cuts all over her arm, intricate patterns of cuts.
Why, Amy, why? I feel like asking her, over and over again.
"Are these everywhere?" I ask the nurse.
The nurse nods her head sadly.
"Yes. Everywhere. Her hips, stomach, thighs, arms..." The nurse frowns. "Depressed teenagers usually are inclined to self-inflict."
Why Amy?
I wish she was happy, carefree like any other teenager.
But I guess then I never would have met her.
Or fallen in love with her.
Author's Note: Awwww.... How sweet. Okay, I'm afraid ladies and gentlemen, we are nearing the end. The last update will be posted tommorow, and TOMMOROW IS THE START OF THE WATTYS 2016 I'M SO EXCITED LIKE OVER THE MOON!!!!! :)
xxx dreamer :)
P.s. Can I count on you guys to win at least one or two awards??? *winks*
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melancholia ✔︎
Короткий рассказall i need is a reason to live. a reason to keep living in this hell you call life. because melancholia is just too hard to control all alone.
