I woke up. I had almost all of my body in bondage, including my head. I barely saw anything. I think my vision has been harmed. Everything hurts! Every single part of my body! I feel like I'm dying. I wanna die! I don't want to feel pain anymore. I remember only my mother and grandfather looking at me and crying. They held my hand. It made me wanna die even more. I lost my consciousness again. Again, someone holds my hand. But it ain't my mother or grandpa. It's a male hand. Aaron. He sits here, next to my bed. He pulls my hand to his body. He looks warmly at me.
-I'll be disabled from now till the rest of my life right?
-No! The doctors said nothing had been damaged permanently. You're going to get well very soon!
-So I must be...be...deformed? My face must be all in scars-when I say this I start crying.- They beat me so much, I must be deformed!
-Few little scars, nothing more, really!
-You swear to me?
-Yes, I swear.
Damn, I hope these scars won't be located on my face...By the way, I feel like I lost at least a few teeth.
-What day do we have today?
-New Year's Eve 2015- after saying that fireworks start being gone off outside.
-Why aren't you with your friends right now? You should be partying or something.
-They aren't my friends anymore. Camilla right from the start wanted to use you to make her real boyfriend jealous. This is why she wanted you to upload a photo with her on your Facebook account. I had no idea about it, I swear! Damn, Oskar! I DID NOT KNOW! But Patryk, Dawid...Asia, they knew about it right from the start. They knew you could be beaten...but didn't care. They're not my friends anymore. You're my friend! And we'll get through this...together.
-Happy New Year 2016, Aaron!
-Happy New Year's Eve, buddy!
YOU ARE READING
Something Like Fall
RomanceThe continuation of my previous story Something Like Summer. This is the 2nd part of the trilogy, with the last being Something Like Spring. It has passed 2 years since Oskar met Aaron for the first time. They haven't talked to each other since then...
