"I don't know who you are, but you need to get out of my room before I call my father in here." I threatened the boy.
He pushed himself up from the floor, stretching his arms out until his long, slender fingers brushed against the top of my hand.
"Please, Sarah. I need your help." his plea earned a dark look out of me.
"With what? I don't know who put you up to-"
His fingers wove themselves between mine before he lifted our intertwined hands from my lap and rested them on against his ashen cheek. My breath hitched in my throat upon feeling the coldness of his skin. A coldness I had been trying to escape the memory of for over twelve months.
"I need you to save me."
"Save you?" I echoed.
He nodded. "You're the girl."
"The girl?"
The boy tore my drawing tablet from my nightstand and shoved it into my expectant arms. I eyed him, then the tablet, skeptically before opening it. My eyes widened seeing that my drawings of the boy presented beside me had vanished and been replaced with images of a petite dark haired girl with big, innocent brown eyes and an obvious obsession with wearing oversized college sweatshirts and sweatpants.
"What happened to my drawings?" I asked, shaking my head in awe. I glanced sideways to find the boy gesturing toward himself.
"I'm Bryan, Sarah. I wasn't put up to this. I'm your Bryan." he touched my cheek softly. "And you're my Sarah."
I shook his hand off. "That's impossible. You're not real. You're a figment of my imagination. This is all so weird nightmare I'll probably wake up from."
"It's real. I'm real." he took my shoulders in his hands and shook me like a rag doll. "Look me in the eyes, Sarah, and tell me I'm not Bryan."
I averted my eyes to his old, ratty black Converse. After a quick intake of breath I lifted my head and met his startling eyes, my head shaking from one side to the other as another answer of denial rose to the surface of my lips but couldn't quite break out of them.
"How?" I decided to give his theory a chance. "Why do you have drawings of me?"
"I don't know." he whispered. "What I do know is you are the only one that can save me."
"Save you from what?"
He kept his eyes trained on the carpet for so long I thought he may have lost his train of thought. Finally, he looked me in the eyes again and spoke shakily.
"Myself."
******AN******
*Unedited*
Hope you guys enjoyed!
~ChasingMadness24
YOU ARE READING
I Write Sins Not Tragedies (A Collection of Short Stories)
Ficção AdolescenteIt's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.
