John gives me a bag of ice before telling me that he'll pray for me. He went up to the upstairs loft, to his room.
I snuggle under the quilt, the frigid ice pack burning an icy hole in my side.
The stitches on the top of my head feel like someone is pressing hot coals to my scalp.
I grit my teeth as hot, steamy tears rolls down my cheeks.
I squeeze my eyes shut until I drift away on a cloud of darkness.
YOU ARE READING
*Title In Construction/Progress*
SpiritualJohn Charles is a seventeen-year-old boy who lives with his father in a small cottage, deep in a thick forest, fifteen miles from their hometown. When an injured, half-conscious girl appears on their front porch of their humble and slightly-shabby...
