Letters to an Optimist

xxv

He threw the pen at the opposing wall, and let out a scream of anger. 

He was pissed, beyond pissed. He couldn't believe anything, he refused to. But the truth was underlining everything.

Her constant lack of replies. Actually, no reply from her at all. Was worrying. 

He ran his hands through his sweaty darkened hair roughly, before letting out a shaky breath.

"This isn't happening, this can't be happening. Not again, not ever," he repeated, mumbling under his breath as he stumbled in circles. 

Sloppy, fat tears were flowing from his stormy eyes, they seemed to be like a hurricane, rage, sorrow, worry, sadness; everything miserable except hope.

He's losing hope.

He's losing her.

And she is hope. She is the only good thing that ever walked--or actually wrote-- into his life.

He let out a sob, he couldn't  help it. He knew she wasn't dead. Yet. 

But the thought was painstakingly painful. He never physically met Blanca, but he still couldn't help but be intrigued by her.

Isn't that strange? Finding someone you never met interesting? 

He stumbled towards the same wall he hit with a pencil, and slumped down, back resting on the wall, his shoulder hunched over, and legs pulled to his chest.

He felt vulnerable.

He felt like a kid.

He felt scared.

"Get it together, Logan," he snapped his attention to the frustrated blonde who stood by the door frame, her face shadowed by the light behind her.

"How?" He whispered, a pained expression passed the blonde's face and she walked towards him. 

"You need to understand what's happening," he glared at her. 

"I don't understand? El, she's in a coma, and lying in a fucking hospital!" He roared, face flushed with anger, but to Ellie's eyes, she knew his face was flushed because of the tears. He couldn't hide that. 

"Logan, listen to me, okay?" She asked, he lowered his attention to his fiddling fingers, and she crouched down, placing her hand onto his arm. "We're going to make this better, okay?"

"How, El? How the fuck can you cure someone from a disease that's killing them? Wave a damn twinkie at their face?" She rolled her eyes at his sarcastic tone, but replied in a soft one.

"No, I'm not dumb you twat," she slapped his arm softly, before slumping down next to him. "Do you still remember your promise to her?"

"What promise?" He asked, his mind going completely blank. Ellie rolled her eyes and ruffled his blonde hair.

"The one about feeling no sympathy, remember that?" He sighed, remembering promising Blanca that through writing. 

"Yeah, that was the stupidest thing I've ever done, eh?" He commented.

"Nope," he he draped his arms across his kneecaps and glanced at her through the space between his arm and thigh.

"Nope?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that lousy skull of yours has got more idiocy on the way." 

He shook his head and chuckled softly.

I'll keep my promise, if you keep yours.

He's heard that sentence one too many times in his lifetime.

But this time, he's going to do something about it. He stood up, surprising Ellie and brushed he jeans, ridding them of dust.

"Come on," he dragged Ellie behind him, walking out of the studio the police shoved him in.

"Where are we going?" She asked, glancing at the gaurds who were standing ouside the studio's front door.

"Sometimes, my dear Ellie. Promises are meant to be broken."

"That makes no sense," she commented.

"Exactly."

***

so from now on I'm gonna be writing in this form, maybe like a chapter or three of letters, idk :p

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK PLEASE!!!! :D oh, and anyone know where Ellie is from?

Mack