Jonathan Hunt is a lonely person with his own sad story; And so is Ashleigh Bradbury. John, however, finds his ways to balance the pain and mirth in his life. Ash, on the other hand, has started to live with the pain. While John is learning to adjus...
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"Stay a mystery, it's better."
❛❛「₪」❜❜
John's P.O.V.
I had been lying on the bed when I suddenly felt a whole world collapse inside my stomach. Something was bothering me. Something that rested inside me. Something which was like a part of me. I felt the need of throwing up. Or perhaps, worse. I felt the need of throwing up blood.
I got up on the bed and before I could rush to the washroom, it just came out of me. In no time, I was vomiting blood. And beside me, a beautiful woman who had been reading a book, dropped the book away and came by my side, stroking my back.
"Ed? Ed are you alright?" She told me. I had no idea who she was. And I had no idea why she was calling me Ed. It wasn't my name.
But then I replied, "Don't worry Candy," I said, coughing hard. "This has happened before." I somehow managed to speak. The white sheets had been en-robed in red blood. My lips and shirt were full of blood too. My hands flew to my mouth, covering them with blood as well. As I felt a rush of adrenaline, my blood-covered hands reached my forehead to wipe the sweat, making it covered with blood too. And within a few moments, you could see blood everywhere.
"Ed!" The girl- whom I had called Candy- cried. "Ed I am calling the doctor."
"No!" I coughed again. "No you- you won't!"
"WHY?!" She said, her face full of tears. As she cupped my face in her hands, her white hands became full of blood too.
"I CAN'T LET YOU DIE!" She said.
"I won't," I whispered, as if weakly. "Am not gonna leave ya so soon," I said. Slowly, my hands managed to reach her face. I wiped her tears with the side of my thumb, leaving a small mark of blood on both sides of her cheeks. Then I held her small hand, brought it close to my face, and drew lazy and weak circles on the back of it with the other hand. "I won't let go." I smiled.
"I am calling the doctor, no matter what!" She yelled with authority, withdrawing her hand.
And as she picked up her phone, her hands shivering with stress; one part of me, as if not me, thought of how much I loved her; while the other part of me, as if the actual me, as if my conscience, told me that I had no idea who she was and that I had never even seen her. I was confused, completely. If I had never seen her, how did I know her, and why did my life matter so much to her?
I have had many stupid dreams throughout my life. But, this one was anything but stupid. It was horrible- to see myself throw blood; irritating- to think about this mysterious girl; devastating- to watch her trying to save my life; and most importantly, confusing- to figure out what the dream meant.
I once read a quote in a book: "Dreams are a chemical process." I was five then. Emma was twelve. My sister was a complete treasure box of philosophy. And when I read this quote to her, she began with her golden words, which, by law, should not be repeated. But she did anyways.
