Dear You
I woke up to my mother waking me up with quiet urgency. I knew something was wrong. I could feel it.
She said something about getting dressed, continuing to talk for another few minutes. My eyes widened. Three words stuck in my head.
You. Accident. Hospital.
I flew out of my house in my pyjamas, rushing to the hospital, where I was led to your private room.
It was your last few minutes.
My shoulders shook violently. I cried.
YOU ARE READING
| Dear You |
Teen FictionIn which a girl expresses her feelings through a series of post its, to a boy who will never read them.
