the girl i love [book 1]

•white lies•

Hunter's POV

The world went black and shattered in slow motion around me, I could taste my thoughts rushing like blood insanely fast between my veins and underneath the cartilage of my bones.

My vision become foggy-mirror blurry, and my knees almost buckled like a clasp underneath me, hindering me wobbly and almost shooting me to the floor, next to Kiki's heels and Abby's converse.

"A coma?" yelled, my voice startling not only Abby and Kiki, but me as well,"No, no, this has got be some joke, ok? She's not in a fucking coma."

Kiki stepped forward, and wrapped me in her thin arms, attempting to mellow out the panic and tenseness that was exuding from my body,"Shh, it's gonna be okay, Hunt. Sam's a strong girl, she'll make it."

I threw myself out of Kiki's embrace and my hands into the air, my body shivering with an anxiety I hadn't felt in months and hoped I'd never feel again,"Why are you here so early? Huh?"

Kiki shook her head, and tears escaped her crystalline blue eyes, weaving watery patterns down her cheekbones,"I tried to call her, stop her," she said, her voice becoming choppy and breathy,"I just couldn't, Hunter."

I focused my ice-filled eyes on the petite brunette in front of me, anger shaking every fiber of my body, and I could not for the Mel-M-loving part of me fathom why, or how this could happen to someone as beautiful, and loving as Sam.

I know, I know it's not Kiki's fault, but I felt this resentment towards her, this thick, pure sadness that was masked with the ugly shell of savage anger, and it scared me, so fucking bad. I'm not supposed to feel like this, I'm supposed to be nice, happy, perfect little miss rich thing.

Fuck that. I'm helping my best friend, and I'll shove my foot through glass doors and asses if I have to, to do that.

I plopped myself down into a worn, green-coushined hospital chair, and buried my head into my hands, my mascara probably clogging my pores with every new onslaught of tears.

Kiki told the rest of the story to Abby, and I pretended to block her out, but I heard every word, every blood-soaked, metal-crushing, screeching detail.

What the hell was Sam doing in a gay bar? She needs to go amongst the carelessly obliterated drunkards?

This is my fault. I know it is, how can it not be? I smashed her heart, to protect my own, and it was wrong, and selfish, but how was I supposed to react?

I don't love her, not like that. Sure, she's pretty, and her voice could heal battle wounds in a snip-snap, and she has eyes that could destruct racism and prevent all bad things, she's perfect.

But I don't love her, and I can't force myself too, feelings aren't mailable, you can control your weight and how sharp your eyeliner wing is, but not feelings.

I walked over to the nurses desk, the soles of my boots gritting into the ground like they were gritting on dirt.

"Hi," I said in my softest, most pastel tone that I could muster from my lungs,"Can you tell me anything about Samantha Rose?"

The lady at the desk lifted her head and her icy blue eyes met mine, almost challenging mine, and said, in a dripping acid voice with an accent so thick I could only hear her sharply pronounced "cuh" sounds,"Are you her mother or her lover, cause that's all that's allowed in or to obtain any information?"

I rolled my eyes so hard inside my head, and sighed out, so I wouldn't drop kick this bitch into the soda machine set up behind her,"Wife," I seethed, lying straight through my teeth,"her lesbian lover."