Because I Trust You(Isaac Lahey)|Completed|

The Real Chapter Twenty-Nine

So here it is-

The real ending...

....

 "You were wrongfully deprived of your rightful life."

"Your whole life is a lie." 

Life is more delicate than we all think- its fragile. It feels like death won't ever come knocking for anyone you know, not until its too late. Even when thinking about such a thing, dying and falling into a black abyss of nothing is terrifying. Where do we go? What do we see? Who will be there to guide us?

It happens so easily. One moment you're breathing, next you're cold and vacant. You can't stop death, but you can delay it. 

Life is like holding sand in your fist; little grains fall slowly- you can guide them and change its course, but once you run out, your time is over. You can't pick the grains up again after. 

Once its done, its done. 

But every cloud has a silver lining. 

...

"Aria, you're stronger than it is. Fight it."

White clouds swirl under my eyelids, a loud and constant pounding echoes in my ears.

My body lays still, but my head runs and runs. I can't move a muscle.

"Aria, its been too long. Wake up." 

That usually rough voice sounds hushed, laced with worry. The tone pricks at my skin like little needles. 

"For goddsakes, I didn't train you to be a coward. Open your eyes!" They're frustrated now- close to cracking. 

My will is strong, but I can't open my eyes. I just can't. 

Slowly, I feel a warmth on my skin. It's distant and barely noticeable, but its there. It's a start. The more feeling the better.

"Its all I ask. Please." I can hear the tears stuck in their throat, so close to escaping. Whoever it is wants me awake- I want to be awake.

You can do it, Aria.

You can do it.

I feel trapped in my own mind, like I'm trying to wake up- and I am awake- but I can't really wake up. Its infuriating.

It takes all my concentration to get my feeling back. Its like my joints are ceased and need oil to move. 

A small spark of hope lights inside of me as I feel a warm breeze against my skin. It reminds me of the summer time when I have a window cracked in my room. The breeze is my oil. 

I hear the person shuffle beside me just as my finger twitches quickly, the movement gradually coming back. The mattress creaks due to a small amount of pressure being added to it. 

A whiff of familiar cologne waffers into my nose. I remember it, but I can't place a face to it. I want to remember. 

"Aria?" Evident hope hangs heavily in the room.

I want to yell, squirm or just to open my eyes. They need to know I'm alright.

I'm alive.

I try to speak, but I'm haulted, my airway cut short. I can't communicate- not yet.

"He told me your human might be partially paralyzed, but your wolf is fine. Show me your wolf." The warmth is back in what I suspect is my hand. 

Show me your wolf.