𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲 | ˢʰᵒʳᵗ⁻ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ✓

37

37.

It was as if you hadn't even fallen down with me in the first place.

But that was. . . impossible, because I could clearly feel your body wrapping around mine, the comforting warmth you passed on to me the only thing that had kept me from screaming.

When I had opened my eyes again, everyone was still staring down at me with worry.

I saw you, still standing where I had last seen you. You had a helpless stance, staring at me with sadness and pity, waiting for me to realise something vital. I locked eyes with you, wanting to embrace you once again.

I wanted you to hug me and kiss me and tell me that everything would be alright, that I would be fine, and all these people weren't important, and everything they said was a lie.

You came closer to me, steps light, as if you were floating on the air. You partially did what I wanted you to do; you hugged me, and kissed my forehead, in such a loving way, that it was scary.

It almost felt like a farewell.

None of the doctors, or the nurses, or my stepmother, blinked an eye at me, as if they couldn't see you.

I clung on to the warmth you gave me, for dear life. I didn't want to let you go. This couldn't be a goodbye. You couldn't just leave me like that.

You were the only thing that kept me anchored to reality.

But, I realised much too late, that that reality wasn't real.

You, my love, weren't real.

You were nothing, but a fragment of my imagination.

x x x