*** this was written when I was 15, you've been warned***
[1st place winner of the Rose Awards]
[#2 in disease 06.25.18]
[COMPLETED ✓]
Sebastian had never planned to leave the mental hospital. He didn't plan on meeting a terminally ill girl and runn...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Luna
It has been almost three hours and Sebastian was now sitting on the side of the road, desperately chugging down his bottled water and eating some sandwiches. I could see his hair was soaked as it fell across his face. I stared at his toned arms and felt myself bite my lip.
That was weird.
Well, not completely weird. I could feel myself getting feelings for Sebastian. It was starting to get dangerous. I don't know for sure how much time I actually have left but I know it is not a lot. Maybe a year at most. I just wish that Sebastian hasn't fallen for me, and if he has, I hope it isn't very hard. I really need to start thinking about how I treat him. The only problem is, I always act before I think. My feelings tend to get in the way of my rational thinking.
Grabbing a paper towel from the back, I dipped it in the cold water from the cooler and brought it over, placing it on his forehead.
"Thank you," he smiled. I sat criss-cross down beside him as we waited for anyone, any car that would stop and possibly have gas or could drive us to get gas.
"Sebastian, I'm tired," I whined.
"Me too. If we survive this," he said sarcastically, "let's get a hotel for the night. We can have continental breakfast and watch some TV."
"That sounds delicious to me." I sighed, sipping some water. I felt a bead of sweat fall from my forehead and watched as it hit my bare leg. The sun beating down on me made me feel dizzy.
Sebastian must've heard something coming because he stood up and stuck his thumb out, walking in the opposite direction groggily.
Sure enough, an old pickup truck slowed down and pulled to the side.
"What do you kids need?" A man with a deep southern accent yelled through his window.
"Our car ran outta gas. You got any?" Sebastian said.
"Well, that depends. How much money you got?" He tipped his head toward Sebastian.
"I'll give you $50. Just enough to reach the next gas station," Sebastian said.
"Not enough. I'll take $75."
"That's a rip-off. I know there is one only a few miles back. Look, sir, we just need enough gas to get us to the nearest gas station. Come on please help us out, we've been here for hours," he pleaded.
"I can only do $75. And I ain't got much time, so make up your mind."
Sebastian looked at me and sighed, grabbing some money from his pocket.
"Fine. I'll do $75. But you gotta show me the gas first."
The man sighed and unbuckled his belt, hopping out of the truck and opening the gate. He pulled out a red Jerry Can and brought it over.
