Once upon a time, a girl made a vow never to give her heart to someone undeserving . . . for the sake of her happiness and heartbreak.
Lydia Hayes has had enough grief in her life. After the death of her mother, she was torn. As for her father, he...
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"You can't take my youth away This soul of mine will never break As long as I wake up today You can't take my youth away"
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Sometimes in the morning, right when I wake up, I can't bring myself to get out of bed. It's almost as if my body is paralyzed. I'm awake, I know that much, but my body is asleep. The question I ask myself is why don't I just get up? Some may call it laziness or unmotivated, while I call it numbness.
And right now I've never felt so numb in my life. Maybe it's the realization that the secret of my mothers death has escaped the safety of home. Sure, as time went on more people found out, but never so publicly.
A somber light shines down on my face and I encourage myself to open my eyes. As I wriggle around, the unfamiliar crunch of paper beneath me makes me open my dreary eyes. Sad blue walls with posters of raising awareness to bullies and depressed students greet me as I slowly sit up. A warm, yet surprisingly soft rag brushes across my forehead. I was expecting the rag to be tattered and hard. Startled, I turn to the culprit. A gentle woman, maybe in her fifties, smiles down at me. Her crisp white blouse is tucked neatly into her black pencil skirt. A kind smile and welcoming eyes encased by bright pink readers make me relax into the makeshift bed.
The woman moves the rag to a bowl of lukewarm water and soaks it. She diligently rings out the excess water, and to my surprise, water tinged light pink falls into another bowl. She returns it to my temple. "How are you feeling dear?"
I clear my throat before twiddling with my thumbs. "Uh, my head kinda hurts."
"That's expected. You had a hard fall." She sets the rag down on the bedside table and picks up a clipboard.
"What happened?" I ask, slightly nervous as I don't know what to expect.
The nurse looks back at me with a baffled expression. "What? You mean you don't remember what happened at all?"
"No," I shake my head and grimace as a throbbing pain pulses in my temple. "No I remember, but who did it? Why?"
The nurse sighs in response and lifts her readers above her widows peak. "We don't know that much yet. The janitor already cleaned up the mess. Don't worry sweets, it was probably a prank. Those happen around our school a lot."
