I Amsterdam (Completed)

Chapter 11.5 - Emma

After a sufficient amount of sleep, I was woken by the birds. My eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I only existed, without any memories, without any worries. I was just there in my bed, inhaling and exhaling, my heart pumping, while my ears seized the songs of the birds and sent them to my brain. But only for a moment, before everything flooded back to me, and I sprung upright on my bed.

It was probably instinct that drove me towards my window and made me look up to Brandon's, hoping that my memories were all just a dream, and that he was there in his room waiting for me. But Brandon was nowhere in sight, and his curtains fully covered my view of his room, proving to me that everything that had happened, had happened.

Reality hits hard, harder than striking the ground after a mile fall from the sky.

Rubbing my eyes, I checked the clock by my bedside. It was the afternoon.

I walked upstairs to get a bite to eat, my stomach rumbling each step I took. I took out a frozen apple from the refrigerator, and poured myself some water that I chugged down in the first five seconds. I bit into the apple, crispy and sweet, and its juices flowed down my throat like honey. The entire time, I kept an eye on Brandon's curtains, waiting in lost hope to see them swish away to reveal his beautiful smile. But they remained frozen still.

I was still hoping when Mr. Schneider stepped into the room. "Hey, they found your backpack," he said, pointing to the sofa, where laid my travelling pack. "I booked a plane ticket for you. It's tomorrow. You'll have to be on the plane by 1:00 PM. Here's the info." He gave me a piece of paper, folded in half.

I took it. "Thanks," I said gratefully.

"No worries."

No turning back now, I thought, looking back up to Brandon's window.

I debated whether I should go over to say goodbye to him, or to see if he was even there. I was desperate to know whether or not he was okay, but I wanted to give him and his family some space. I was also afraid of whether or not his family will even let me see him, or whether he, himself, will even allow me to see him.

No, I thought. The reason why I'm going back is because I'm done with being afraid. I'm done with running.

And so with those thoughts driving me, I forced my legs out of the house and to Brandon's. I knocked on the door, and it opened.

Behind was Brandon's father. He said nothing, his eyes studying me up and down, pressuring me to speak first.

I decided to skip the formal greetings. "Is he okay?" I asked.

"He's recovering," he answered. His calmness, after everything I've done, was tormenting me.

"Can I please see him? To talk to him?" I pleaded.

"He isn't awake at the moment." His voice was cold, and sent a chill through my spine.

But I didn't back down. "Could you please tell him I'm so sorry, at least?" I begged. "Could you please tell him I love him?"

Something struck his eyes, but whatever it was, he quickly covered it up. His brows narrowed as he waited for me to say more, but I didn't know what else there was to add.

"Please," was the only thing I could think of.

He gave me a small grumble. "Good day," he answered, and closed the door, leaving me powerless on the other side.

I trudged back home in defeat, with anger, sadness, and so many other emotions rising within me that I couldn't tell what was what. I combed my fingers through my hair.

The plane ticket was already bought, so I couldn't change me leaving. I simply had to get to Brandon before I catch my plane tomorrow, or I'd have to say goodbye without seeing him for the last time. Either way, I wouldn't forget him, like I tried to do when I was about to leave for Brussels. I promised myself I'd never forget him.

But it wouldn't be hard to.