Hiii! I just made some little changes to make reading go a little smoother, and corrected some spelling errors. If I didn't it's bug me. Lol~!
Thank you guys so much for the reviews, it makes a writer feel like their work is appreciated, even if there were only a few. Your support is always appreciated!
xx
That smiling face… That beautiful smiling face… Why did I let her go?
Images flashed in front of the black haired woman's face; memories that felt like they occurred over a century ago, though these memories had occurred mere hours ago.
I should've stayed with her. I should've protected her.
Now she sits in an uncomfortable chair, listening to the slow recurrent beeping noise radiating from that goddamn machine that had its tentacles pressed on the body that lay on the bed.
She never would have had to go through this. It's entirely my fault. I let her go by herself.
A tear, maybe more than one, is now finding its way down the pale skin of the woman's cheek; it falls and is now on the skin of the patient of the bed. The hand of said patient is laid limply in that of the other.
How can I ever forgive myself? How can she ever forgive me?
There's a desperate squeeze, her hand tightening around that of the other. The woman couldn't look at the other's face, she felt ashamed. Whimpering at her own weakness, she presses her head into the bed on which the other lay, so that its material may absorb her tears.
Darkness, quiet sobs, that recurrent beeping, and an odd feeling. This is what the strawberry blonde girl woke to. This feeling was that of something stuck on her face, like a cobweb, or a wool blanket.
Where am I?
She shot up, only to stop abruptly half way through and slam back down; pain, a searing pain, shot up her body. Only then did she realize the hand that held hers, and the hand that held her arm tenderly.
How did I get here?
She found she couldn't speak and her free hand came to touch what was on her face. Bandages. She couldn't help but to notice as the other woman dropped her head in what could only be determined as shame mixed with a hint of regret as she did this.
What happened?
She pushed gingerly on the skin that was still free of the cotton. It was tender, and then she ventured a push on the right side of her face, on her cheek. Pulling away almost instantly, she felt dampness on her fingers. She knew it was blood; there was no denying that crimson colour.
Blackness surrounded here again as she fell back into morphine induced sleep
Two weeks later, the strawberry blonde woman stands in front of a mirror. After hearing so many apologies, so many sobs, and promises of atonement. She hasn't seen the extent of her injuries. She just stands there, staring at her bandages. It's odd, she has one eye uncovered, and a majority of the left side of her face, except where it secures the bandages to the right side of her face.
She brings her hand up. The doctors told her that she was attacked, that she had been injured badly.
She grabs the bandage.
She is told that they did the best they could; they had to wait until she was fully recovered to completely fix her.
The cotton falls to the ground slowly.
Her partner apologizes every time that she can. She refuses to forgive herself, and says she will do anything to make it up to her.
She stands, looking at herself in the mirror, her eyes meeting those of her reflection. On the right side of her face there is a horrible scar. It starts from her hairline, it goes further up, but it is hidden by hair. It stretches its way through her eyebrow, her eyelid, on an angle towards her nose, but changes direction half way through her cheek before stretching its way towards her jaw and neck, barely touching the corner of her mouth.
She stares and brings her fingers up, tracing it's jagged and dark path. At some places it doubles, another line following the main one.
Dropping to her knees, she sobs placing her hands over her face, wanting to rip the thing from her skin.
Her partner races to her side. She knew it would be difficult. Her hands grab the other's shoulders. She tries to soothe her by whispering in her ear, touching her, and stroking her hair. Anything that might calm her, but she still sobbed, and the other still held her.
I still love you… I don't deserve to, but it's still true…
The raven-haired woman pulls the blonde's hands from her face, cupping it in her own. She pulls the woman closer, pressing her lips on her forehead, at the beginning of the ugly scar. A warm and gentle kiss before her lips brush lightly, and slowly down the line, placing more kisses along it. She stops for a longer kiss where the scar touches the corner of woman's mouth, pushing slightly harder and moving to a full and loving kiss.
I want to stay with you; I want to protect you, like I should have from the beginning…
Tears fall gently, from both women as they kiss tenderly and lovingly.
You won't get hurt… Never again…
