Saving isabella

As the last tear fell from my face I dried my eyes and whispered to her what I thought was going to be my last words to her "I... I. love you."


4. Hopeless

I watched as the sunset behind the window. The blues, an whites becoming oranges and reds. Like the color of the leaves when fall comes. but liquid fire in the skies each trying to out shine the other.

I turned around on the window seat, looking at the bed, with a scowl. How could such a peaceful thing have so much meaning?

On average we spend about 8 hours a day sleeping. That takes up a third of our life. If you live, say, 75 years, that's 25 years asleep, or 9,125 days. So much of our life waste sleeping. 

Two years of my life I have wasted, but I had been in a extensive sleep. One I had no control over. Not when I woke up? Not when I went into it? Not how many years it took?

I wiped away the tears that had slowly made there way down my face.

I turned away from the bed not wanting to look at it anymore. I mean why should I cause myself pain for something I didn't even do? Or maybe it was somewhat my fault? Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to go out that night? Maybe I should have listened to my moms advice and stayed home?

Then something hit me what happened to Matthew? What happened to my Matty?

I got up about to walk down stairs when I realized my parents were probably not ready to talk bout it and frankly I didn't think I was ready either.

I sat back down on the seal bombarded by my thoughts. So many rushing at me, but the most recurring one was where was my Matty?

Had he been hurt? Did he go into coma? Was he in the hospital still? Had he gotten out?

'Had he died?' I thought. 

But didn't let myself continue on that subject. There wasn't a doubt in my mind he was alive.

I mean he had to be, right?

My Matty was fine.

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