and it was all his fault

CHAPTER ONE

You stare at your ceiling once again. 1000 thoughts fill your mind. THE room keeps turning round and round. You feel hipnotized. A voice in your head keeps saying "he doesn't care. Stop thinking about him because he's not thinking about you". Your heart keeps saying "don't let go of hope, hell come back". You don't know who to believe. Your heart or your mind. Your heart, an area of your body filled with love and passion, care and adoration. Or your mind, intelligent and logical, interesting and loyal. Pff. Loyalty. That's not something your ex knew about. Who even was the girl. What was her name? Maria? Emma? Something like that.

You need to calm down. Take a bath, a walk, a run. You grab your keys, a jacket, slip your shoes on and set off into the dark night. Street lamps illuminate the allys as you walk by. Your eyes fill with tears, you feel a burning pain in your chest, your hands tremble. The thought of him with her made you quiver. A shiver runs down your spine. SYour hands feel heavy in your pockets. Your fists are rolled tightly almost as if you want to punch something. You enter the Kingsley Park, surrounded by solitude and a deafening silence. Only your footsteps can be heard. Trees sit up straight as if they were lining up in an army. Flowers lie low on their beds, tired of looking pretty for all the citizens on walks. Maybe they should stop trying and accept who they are. What are you doing? Talking to flowers?

You take your hands out of your pockets to reaveal your fingers covered in a scarlet rose-red liquid. You hadn't realised the pain you were making yourself go through. As soon as the crimson blood was unveiled from your cozy pockets, you let out a yelp. Ow. Pain thrusts through your fingertips to your wrist. You look up, holding something of someone could help you. From afar you distinguish a mysterious figure. A man. Not taller than 6'5 feet. He had lost one eye, you could tell there was fear deep inside of it despite it being white. You could tell he's been through a lot. Including crying before you disrupted him.

"sorry" you let out with no thought. nothing. He says nothing. Not a word. He just stares. Looks. Watches. He seems happy to see someone but at the same times, wants to be left alone.

"you hurt yourself" he acknowledges the cuts on the palm of your hand. He slowly stands up off the crooked wooden bench. It squeaks as he releases it from pressure. His deep raspy voice is warming ,comforting .

"ah it's nothing just a paper cut I Guess" you lie. Weren't you tired of it. All of it. Lying. Hiding secrets. Nope. You just go right with it.

"no I can tell that isn't a paper cut. a paper cut is thin and vindictive but that. that's a hurt cut. That's a "I'm mad so I'm going to tighten my fists until I cannot feel the blood passing through" cut" how did he know? had he been following you? Maybe he just payed attention. Oh you got it. He's a doctor. Yep definitely. Doctor.

"Oh" you mutter "yeah it's ok, really it's nothing." a silence falls upon you again. Its like a bubble. No one else can enter it. But yourself.

"cmon talk to me!" he announces whilst tapping the empty seat behind him. This comes a concern to you because you've never met this man before, let alone seen his whole face.

"sorry I, i have to go." you quickly murmur before leaving him alone like he was before. Your walking turns into fast walking, into jogging, into running. Memories flash before your eyes in this beautiful yet lonely park. Suddenly the bubble bursts, while your sprinting, and around you everything is clear.
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wc:656

ask me questions about me and ill answer!

Q: where are u from?

A: im french, spanish and english