to be determined [A FORMER WATTPAD FEATURED STORY]

TWO

They make me wear a gown.

A white gown if we are being specific.

My breathing fogs against the machine, and they they tell me to count back from ten.

"Ten. Nine. Eight . . ."

My eyes drape black. I feel everything and nothing all at once. The black that overwhelms me seems to be an empty one. Lonely.

Then there is a faint image.

A red bike.

I see a red bike with a large basket draping the handlebars. I see frizzy black hair hidden beneath a bicycle helmet that is far too large. I see blood running down smooth, caramel skin from the knee.

There's a man.

He's running towards the girl on the bike. He has a bottle in his hand and nearly stumbles into the bushes every other step. I see that he also has caramel skin; although, his is rough, coated in scars and callouses.

The girl is crying.

And the man . . . he's trying so hard to reach her.

The girl keeps pedaling.

Faster.

This man seemingly enough stumbles over again . . . and again.

He can't seem to catch her.

So, by default, she is escaping.

Why is she escaping?

The last image I see is the man throwing the bottle and glass shattering everywhere, all across the pavement.

And then I think, she doesn't deserve that.