Lovers: Boarding School

_dorm

This is pretty touching chapter, not gonna lie. Thank you for @mystery for considering this piece of trash story into your Top Mystery/Thriller Stories. It's a(n) (INCREDIBLE/AMAZING) honor.

Please enjoy this long awaited update!

WARNING: Needs EDITS! And complimentary TISSUES. Can't forget those.

Her consciousness was like a feather swirling freely in the currents of space; just when she went to grasp at it, it would float just out of reach, never far enough to be negligible, but never close enough to be touched. Constantly, her mind would cycle between two states of consciousness, remaining in one for a brief eternity before slipping into another for just as long. Sometimes, even longer.

Keep sleeping, she heard a faraway voice say.

I felt this before.

Blurry blots of light seeped through the papery thin skin of her eyelids creating an aurora of gold and white that dangled streaming dragon lanterns over the black canvas of her sightlessness. She could see very little, and could distinguish much less, but her ears, her ears could hear everything.

She could hear the soft cannonades of someone sobbing beside her, the sharp beeping of a monitor, her shallow breaths siphoning through a mask.

I've been through this before.

"Wake up Violet. Wake up," begged a voice she recognized but could not place a name to. "Don't let go. Don't leave me like this."

I know this voice.

The voice was higher than a man's but had the husky quality of a youth cracking into puberty.

A boy?

"I'll keep our promise. I-I'll do everything for you. Anything. Just stay with me Violet. Please."

Our promise?

More sobbing, quiet but piercing, filled the caverns of her ears and dripped into a dormant chamber of her heart. She was overtaken by a memory tinged in sadness as her voice--not Viola's--cried out to the sad, sad boy.

Please James, she said, don't cry.

XOXO

Violet cracked open her eyes slowly, her wakefulness greeted by the sounds of fingers scampering across a keyboard interspersed with the clicking of a computer mouse. Opening her eyes as best she could, Violet observed the chaotic constellations of wilted newspaper articles, black and white photographs, and faded charcoal drawings tacked slovenly around the room's dark gray walls. Beside her was an IV drip, its transparent tube connected to her arm through a pierced vein. Violet pinched her brows.

This isn't a hospital.

When she sat up on the stiff bed she was laying on, she found herself in a messy, decrepit room that had clothes strewn all over its grimy floor, knickknacks and books piled up in its cobwebbed corners, and a half-naked boy sitting before a large quadruple-monitor computer placed on a wide oak desk.

Violet stared at the raven-haired boy and then descended her gaze to his bloodied shoulder that was haphazardly wrapped in gauze.

Gin?