She just came back from summer vacation. She's a normal teenage girl. Two best friends, good grades. Then she sees him, walking the hallways of their school. His brown hair, gelled back, brown woolen vest, black tie, and a white shirt. His glasses placed low on his nose. She watched him push them back, closer to his emerald green eyes. What was it about him? He really outdid the geek stereotype. Or maybe that's just a judgement you would make, if you only knew how he looks and acts. Because what if it just is an act? What if he wasn't a geek the geek you thought he were?


14. Where is The Brown-haired Boy When You Need Him The Most?

Every wisp of air from my lungs were knocked out. In my shock, I was struggling to inhale, to exhale. Unable to speak. I spun around and looked confusedly at the body in the bed. I brought my feet to move. The sound of the heart monitor flatlining was still ringing loudly in my ears. For about thirty seconds I just stood. In the middle of the white room was a girl without a mother, simply standing, denying her conscious the facts. Until she did.

I started screaming. I dropped to the floor, my knees hitting the marine blue carpet hard, my voice drowning out the monitor. A tight grip closed around my throat. I was choking on my own tears. My heart shattered. 

I heard sounds. Others were coming in, but I was still screaming, still glued to the floor. I felt hands grabbing me, pulling me, taking me away from my mom. I saw people in light blue clothes rushing into the room. After that, only the white linoleum tiles that I was being dragged across. I was barely standing, my feet were sliding across the floors as two people held me up. I protested, shouted, tried to pull away from them. They sat me in a chair and held me down until I had calmed. I was sobbing into my hands, my palms slippery. I wanted it to end. 

I sat like that for an hour. They called my dad. He came and talked me down. The doctors came and told us what I already knew. She was dead. Her body couldn't function in a coma, so her heart stopped. Time of death: 11:39 A.M.

What happened after was a blur. We stayed at the hospital for a few more hours. Greek food from a place down the street, bad coffee and off-brand potato chips was our dinner, although I could barely eat anything. Then, hours into the evening, my dad decided that we had to go home. I lied in my bed for hours, wanting to sleep but not being able to because my crying was unstoppable. It was only until four in the morning when my drowsiness won over my sorrow. I woke up at midday. My dad had let me stay home. Bless him. He lost his wife.

I didn't eat breakfast. I didn't eat lunch. I couldn't bring myself to leave the bed, or when my dad brought me something, I wasn't hungry. I didn't want to eat, but when darkness was spreading across the sky, I had to eat something. I had cereal.

I began thinking. About before. Harry. Where was he? Was he still mad at me? Does he have the slightest idea of what I am going through? I thought about calling him, I just wanted to talk to someone, but directed my thoughts away from him. I was sad about my mom. I couldn't handle any more. I decided to call Laila and Mia. They'd been there for me through thick and thin, and I was so grateful to have them. 

It was early in the evening, at around 7:45 when they came. They knocked lightly on the door and opened after hearing my croak. All through the night, they sat on either side of me, comforting my vulnerable soul until we fell asleep at the break of dawn. 


I woke up at 8:30. The light of the morning was streaming through my windows. On either side of me two girls slept. Peacefully. I had only slept for about three hours, but my eyes were wide open. I didn't want to wake them, so I carefully slid off the bed and silently walked across the room. I touched cold door handle and turned it, opening the door very slowly. Once outside, I closed it and quietly walked down the hall. When I made it to the stairs, I was far enough away to move normally. The kitchen was clean, hadn't been used. I got some mint lemonade from the fridge and poured it into a glass. There was an apple on the counter, in the bowl. I took it and sat on the the kitchen Island bar stools, sorrily drinking my lemonade and taking one bite out of the dark red apple. 



Authors Note: I have not lost anyone dear to me, and I am not trying to act like I have. Anyone who has lost someone they loved, firstly, I am so sorry and I can't even imagine what it must be like. Please don't take offense to this, if what I am writing is false.


Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...