Blackout
- Reads 550
- Votes 40
- Parts 12
Ongoing1h 42m
Last published Sat, Jan 2, 2016
Excerpt:
I'm reading some random book on the couch when I see a tall figure walking fast towards me, Harry.
"What is it Harry?" I say.
" What the hell are you doing?" He says.
I knew exactly what he meant but I still decided to ask.
" I don't understand." I lied, trying to appear confused. I could tell Harry was getting pissed.
"You know exactly what I mean," he points at me, " Here you are fooling around when we're all trying to clean up this mess." His .
"Ok ok I got it, just chill every thing's under con-"
"Is she starting to-" His eyes widened.
"Remember?" I finished for him, "No, not really let's keep it that way."
"Right," Harry says quietly " I have t-to go so I'll see you later."
"Yeah ok bye" I say and turn back to my book.
And then I thought, "What if she does remember everything from that night?" , but I pushed the idea out of my mind and continued while I wait for her to come back.
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blackout
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β π©π¦πͺπ’π―π’π«π π’ /Λπ©ΙͺπͺΙπ―Ιπ«π°/ ππ‘π§π’π π±π¦π³π’: π π£π’π³π’π―π’π‘ π°π±ππ±π’ π¬π£ πͺπ¦π«π‘ ππ¬π―π« π¬π£ π―π¬πͺππ«π±π¦π π£π¦π΅ππ±π¦π¬π«; πͺππ―π¨π’π‘ ππΆ π¬ππ°π’π°π°π¦π³π’ π±π₯π¬π²π€π₯π±π°, π©π¬π«π€π¦π«π€ π£π¬π― π’πͺπ¬π±π¦π¬π«ππ© π―π’π π¦ππ―π¬π π¦π±πΆ, ππ«π‘ ππ« ππ π₯π¦π«π€ π‘π’ππ’π«π‘π’π«π πΆ; β΄ π‘π’π³π¬π±π¦π¬π« π‘π―π’π°π°π’π‘ π¦π« π‘π’π©π²π°π¦π¬π« β "Then tell me," I rasp. "Tell me and I'll deal with it. I'll handle it. Just-don't shut me out." "I can't," she says again, voice breaking. "I can't tell you. I can't be with you. And I can't stand here and watch you break and know that I'm the reason." She swallows hard, her throat moving. "Please don't make me explain it. Please just... stop." I take a step toward her anyway, rain dripping from my eyelashes, my chest hollow. "I don't care if it kills me," I say, and it's not bravado; it's a man with nothing left to barter. "If that's the price, fine. At least then I get to be with you before it ends." She makes a small sound, half sob, half laugh, and it's the most human thing I've ever heard from her. "Don't say that," she whispers, almost fierce. "Don't ever say that." She holds my eyes for one last beat, lips parted like she might say something else - something that could undo all of this, something that could make the rain stop mattering. But she doesn't. Instead, she exhales, low and unsteady, and shakes her head. "I'm sorry," she says again, softer now, like a confession. Then she turns. And that's it.
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