Fruitloops | ✓

n i n e t e e n

Chapter 19: This was a bad, bad dream

[ Vince's POV ]

Looking at her grin at me was like sunshine to a perfect day. Her eyes looked glassy from where I was standing. Everything in me hoped that they were tears of joy.

I couldn't mess this up, I couldn't mess anything up with her. She didn't believe in love, but I wanted to show her that it's okay to give things a shot, to give love a shot.

She didn't believe in happy endings, but I wanted to prove to her that it might be true after all, that all this wasn't just in fairytales. That it happened in real life.

Lyssabelle was like the rare fish in the sea. Vanessa and her was completely different. Vanessa was way more out-going and open, while Lyss seemed to be shy and secretive, in a way where she built a wall around her.

After all, her parents did abandon her willingly. I didn't blame them though, because they had to protect their children from the cruel deaths done by the mafia.

I wondered how someone could be so cold-hearted to chop up their parents in front of their children slowly and painfully, piece by piece as they bled out with chunks out of their body. I wondered how someone could be so gruesome and not puke seeming the inside of the human body with the bones and veins, blood oozing out with every cut.

My thoughts were soon interupted as a loud honk echoed through the quiet night.

Everything happened in slow motion as I watched the scene unfold in front of me.

First, a white BMW crashes into the side of the cab, crushing it completely as pieces I couldn't identify flew out everywhere. Some broken glass scattered around where I was standing, but there was only one thing on my mind.

Lyssabelle.

The BMW had hit the side closest to where Lyssabelle was, and looking at the condition that side was on, my heart sunk completely. With a thousand and one bricks piling in top of it.

The taxi overturned once, now lying upside down. The driver of the taxi seemed to have placed a hand limply against the car door window, as if trying to push it open.

But there was no sign of Lyss.

The driver in the BMW looked paler than a ghost as he stared out at the damage he's done. He seemed to be doing fine, not even a fly seemed to have hurt him.

That made my knuckles clench as I stood still to the spot. My feet were not moving, as much as I begged them to.

Lyssabelle's alive, well and kicking.

Lyssabelle's alive, well and kicking.

I chanted this montra in my head as I felt a warm liquid on my cheek.

It wasn't raining, I looked up at the sky.

More started to fall freely, and when one entered my slightly agaped mouth, I knew they were tears as the liquid touched my tongue.

This was a bad, bad dream. There were no stars in the sky, which indicated that this was a nightmare instead of a dream.

In dreams, there would he stars shining brightly like diamonds, while a perfect cresent moon sat in the blanket or darkness. In dreams, there would be no car crashes nor tears, unless they were tears of joy. In dreams, I would be able to move freely, willingly. In dreams, I wouldn't be pissed off at the driver of the BMW who looked merely at the age of twenty-five, maybe younger.

But this wasn't a fantasy nor a dream, this was reality.

My feet seemed to have started to work as my brain took in the information and scene in front of my eyes.