No matter how much she runs, Laura is stuck in an endless loop of her past. With a transfer of school and a curly-haired boy who seems to be wherever she goes, it's a matter of time she realizes that her universe ceases at the sight of him-and runni...
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THE MAKESHIFT WORLD WAS BOUND TO SHATTER, AND I SHOULD'VE KNOWN BETTER—because there wasn't a way I could stop myself from running headfirst to the hospital with nothing but the rapid and merciless beating of my heart, loud and clear in my ears.
Vision slightly blurry with tears on the brim, I tried to be steady and balance myself, but realizing that my hands trembled and feet twitched made everything worse.
It's not what happened in the past, I reasoned to calm myself down. As long as I could reach him without the world blurring completely before my eyes, it would be okay. This was the present. This isn't what I am thinking it to be.
Running whilst panicking felt exactly like poison rain clogged in my veins. Like knife being twisted in the gut repeatedly. My heart had plummeted to the bottom of my stomach, and it still resonated in my ears and my head. My feet burned because the distance wasn't small, but nothing was enough for me to stop. The memories remained too raw, too bitter, too vicious. If this part of me was bare, I'd lose everything I'd managed to stick to place.
I entered like storm and rushed like the wind, overlooking the waving hand of the receptionist and walking right through the first corridor with my eyes trained on a certain boy with black hair—
I had to remind myself to breathe. Chant: it's okay, it's okay, it's okay—without truly knowing if it even was.
When I saw him, he was staring with fright.
I couldn't blame him. I looked horrendous, panic-stricken, like I had just been dropped into the world with no clear instructions. Accidents didn't come with appointments, though. Xavier Henderson gave me a look before it dawned on him, and he said phrases like "he's okay, Laura" and "you don't look so good", but I couldn't have heard him. All I could hear was the rapidness of my heart conflating with deafening nothingness, all whilst I gripped onto the metal handle and barged right through the door in haste.
I doubted this was allowed, but he didn't stop me. As the door closed softly behind me, I took in my surroundings—scrupulously spotless, air pungent and overwhelming, room too many shades of white. My heart was still beating mercilessly. Evan's head was hung low, eyes on the ground, and I had almost ignored the tear that slipped down my cheek. I was. . .crying? Did he not notice me after my dramatic display? Why was he not meeting my gaze? Why—
I let my eyes fall onto him properly. His right wrist was wrapped up in a gauze, and a band-aid sat on the left side of his forehead. Immediately, my chest squeezed. Idiot.
The room kept spinning. My head felt like it would burst open. My limbs remained jittery, and the thump of my heart raced so wildly in my ears, I thought I was going to pass out.
Idiot, idiot, idiot. I wanted to tattoo that word on his stupid forehead.
