Dear Princess

Chapter Two: Cookie

I slowly open my eyes, the sun peeking through the curtains

I sit up from my bed and reach for my crutches. I lift myself up and start walking downstairs

I walk into the kitchen, grab some cereal, some milk, a bowl, and a spoon.

I pour the cereal into my bowl and then the milk and start eating.

After I'm done I get up, grab my crutches and walk back upstairs.

I walk into my room and sit on my bed, I grab my shoes and start slipping them on, I tie them afterward and then I grab my coat.

I walk back downstairs, as I do so my foot skips a step and I stumble downstairs, my head banging on the railing and the stairs.

I finally make it to the bottom and my head throbs.

I open my eyes and I'm backwards on the stairs, I grab my crutches and get up, I check for any blood and thankfully there isn't any but I will have a nice big bruise on my back.

I make my way outside, closing the front door behind me, and locking it.

I get into my car and start driving to the graveyard.

******

I get out of the car, grab my stuff and walk to Mary's graveyard.

I carry a card and a flower that I prepared yesterday, with me.

I grab the wilted rose and replace it with another one.

Dear Princess,

Remember that thing I made you?

You laughed and told me what it was called.

I laughed, but then forgot again.

I kissed your hand like a gentleman.

You smiled shyly.

You gave me chocolate chip cookies.

I split it in half for both of us to share.

You took the thing I made your home, and from that day on, I knew you were the one.

I love you, princess! I know you're probably laughing right now because I forgot what it was called...again.

I walk away from her resting place, holding my tears in. I know I will cry. It is unavoidable.

"Why did this happen to me?" I sob. "Why!? What did I do!?"

I climb into my car, throwing the crutches onto the vacant seat beside me.

*****

I wake up to my alarm going off and I let some tears escape my eyes before rolling onto my side. I slowly climb out of bed, my muscles weak. I walk downstairs and into the kitchen.

I grab a paper, pen, and a picture. I start writing, but my pen doesn't work properly. It leaves choppy smears of ink. I walk into the living room to grab a different pen.

I walk back into the kitchen and start writing again.

Edited ✔

I didn't really edit this chapter but I hope you like it!

Likes and comments would be most appreciated