I POSTED THIS CRAP YESTERDAY WTF WATTPAD I'M SORRY I THOUGHT IT SENT I'M SORRY FOR BEING LATE UGH
If I hadn't mentioned this earlier, this story will contain minimal to a fair amount of swearing. Again, if you're uncomfortable with this I advise you to stop reading.
Chapter 6: 2015
Song: Hold Onto Hope Love- Amy Stroup
"Just because someone looks happy doesn't mean they are, because even a white rose has a black shadow."
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Third Person POV:
And there came a day that kept his vow to the broken girl in the hospital bed. He visited her every few months, he would watch her in awe. He would whisper to her and create happy dreams for her fragile mind. And maybe he was jealous of the way she could run away from the world for just a little while. Or maybe he just wanted something, someone to distract him form himself. Maybe she was simply a plaything for him to toy with.
That's what some would believe. But she wasn't a plaything or a toy to him. She wasn't a distraction or even a curiousity or a being for him to marvel at. It was something else. Something even he wasn't aware of. Not love, no. It wasn't a spark or connection.
She was a dying girl, and he, simply a spectator. It was something else, far beyond human understanding or portrayal in 'The Notebook'.
He would trace the thin lines on her skin. The now white lines that had long since healed. And you could see her bones. They peeked out, even with the amount of nutrients she was given on a daily basis from the hospital. You could see her collarbones and her ribs and her hipbones. They ruined her positive persona. He would trace her wrists and her arms and if he had lifted the sheets he would've found the same lines across her concaving stomach and her thighs. He would've found them on her hips and her back and her legs and her calves.
He would've found the bruises and the previously broken bones. If he had looked, he would've found her downfall.
If he hadn't the decency to protect her privacy, he'd have found the cracks, the cracks in her strong form. The very cracks that had left her shattered in the middle of the road, awaiting her end. She was broken, but he vowed to fix her in every way he could. He promised to repair her in ways even she couldn't.
If he hadn't the decency he would've taken the frail comatose girl into his arms. But he wanted to do it with her permission. He wanted her to give herself to him of her own accord. He wanted to win her and fix her and do her right.
But he didn't hold her. Not yet.
And after many days, and months, and years passed, she would wake from her coma-like state. He would wake her. And then he would be long gone.
Or at least, until he found her again.
Lacey's POV
I gasp, sitting up and breathing heavily, looking around. I'm in a hospital room, looking around at the dreary walls and tubes. They're all over me.
BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP
What seems like hundreds of nurses rush into my room, poking and prodding at me. I try to talk, but there's a tube down my throat.
"Honey, I need you to calm down, okay?" Says one of them. My eyes are wide, they remove devices and turn off machines.
All I want is for someone to explain what the hell is going on but I can't speak or communicate, I can hardly move.
I'm frantic and sweating from panic and before I know it, I'm fucking sedated.
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I wake up to a brunette nurse, peppy and in my face.
"Hi!" She says happily. "How are you feeling, sweetie?" Her voice is so painfully fake I want to hit her.
I just stare at her blankly. How does she think I'm feeling? Like shit, that's how.
Have I been hospitalized? I don't rememember commiting but then again I don't remember much. It's all fuzzy, like it happened weeks ago. I'm too exhausted to think too hard about it.
"I'm great." I spit, my sarcasm drips like venom. "Now can you please tell me what's going on here without pumping my bloodstream full with enough drugs to kill a large animal?"
She laughs. The sound itself is killing me. I never thought I'd hate something as insignificant and lovely as a laugh. But it's just so fake and happy and annoying I want to choke her.
"You, Lacey, have been in comatose."
"Comatose? What are you talking about?"
"You've been, let's say asleep, for a long time."
"Long? Like hours? A few days?"
"Days? You've been in a coma for years. It's 2015, Lacey. You're seventeen."
"It's not 2015! I just want the truth, okay? Just tell me the bloody truth and let me go home!" My voice is raising, and so is my heartbeat. Why can't I just get a simple answer?
"Honey, you're in shock. Calm down, please."
"CALM DOWN?! You're trying to feed me these, these lies. I'm not seventeen. I turned fifteen a few days ago. My name is Lacey Smith. I'm from Evington, Virginia, where I live with my father. It's September of 2012. This isn't real. This isn't happening right now. Just tell me what's going on."
"You're seventeen, Lacey. Your father is an abuser, who nearly took your life. He's arrested in a unit far, far away. It's January of 2015. You're not even supposed to be awake yet. The doctor predicted many years before you even start to twitch."
"JUST TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON."
"If you do not lower your voice, I'll be forced to sedate you again."
"TELL ME THE TRUTH!" I'm yelling and I'm crying and I'm panicking, and while I continue to shout and tears are streaming down my cheeks I lose all grip on reality when a needle is jammed into my body and my hand goes slack against the bed.
Wow, second time today.
This will pick up soon okay I promise :) I actually have a drawn out plan for once so It's gonna be great. I've been marathoning Marvel movies for the past many days. Depending on when mom buys me the rest of the Harry Potter movies it'll be either that or Sherlock to overtake my life next XD
Loves,
Mollie x
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