Disclaimer: I don't in any way own Lizzie Mcguire, if I did, I would
definitely not be writing on FFnet, and Lizzie Mcguire wouldn't always have
such happy unrealistic endings (sorry I like sad depressing stories).
And another thing, I don't think people like me anymore! I know I
haven't been updating or anything, but I'm not getting any more reviews!
Please review!
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LIZZIE'S POV
I winced as I sat up and leaned against the wall. My muscles were sore from sleeping on the hard cement for the past 5 days. I wanted my sleeping pallet back! But that was being selfish; I knew the boy needed it more than I did.
Remembering the boy, I looked over at him. He had been asleep for the past 5 days and hadn't even stirred. I hoped he was going to be all right. The gash in his head looked pretty bad, it was healing all right but it was definitely going to leave a scar.
With millions of thoughts swirling my head, my eyes examined the room, yet again. The cement floor walls and ceiling, no windows, the big steel door on the far wall. There was a cobweb hanging from one of the corners of the room, and a floor-to-ceiling crack in one of the walls.
I had looked at that crack very closely many times, there's something about it, though I don't know what, that gives me hope. As does seeing this boy. Maybe I'm just going crazy, I don't know.
Looking over to the boy once again, I wondered where he had come from. Had he stumbled upon this place, did he try to turn Jason in, did they kidnap him? I hope he wakes up soon or I really am going to go crazy. I need someone, anyone to talk to.
As if on cue, a slight groan came from the boy's lips. He stirred a little and appeared to sit up. But as if in pain, he laid back down.
I smiled slightly to myself and went over to help him out. I rearrange the pillow and sleeping pallet against the wall and very carefully helped him sit up to lean against it. I looked to the crack in the wall. Maybe there is hope after all.
LIZZIE'S POV
I winced as I sat up and leaned against the wall. My muscles were sore from sleeping on the hard cement for the past 5 days. I wanted my sleeping pallet back! But that was being selfish; I knew the boy needed it more than I did.
Remembering the boy, I looked over at him. He had been asleep for the past 5 days and hadn't even stirred. I hoped he was going to be all right. The gash in his head looked pretty bad, it was healing all right but it was definitely going to leave a scar.
With millions of thoughts swirling my head, my eyes examined the room, yet again. The cement floor walls and ceiling, no windows, the big steel door on the far wall. There was a cobweb hanging from one of the corners of the room, and a floor-to-ceiling crack in one of the walls.
I had looked at that crack very closely many times, there's something about it, though I don't know what, that gives me hope. As does seeing this boy. Maybe I'm just going crazy, I don't know.
Looking over to the boy once again, I wondered where he had come from. Had he stumbled upon this place, did he try to turn Jason in, did they kidnap him? I hope he wakes up soon or I really am going to go crazy. I need someone, anyone to talk to.
As if on cue, a slight groan came from the boy's lips. He stirred a little and appeared to sit up. But as if in pain, he laid back down.
I smiled slightly to myself and went over to help him out. I rearrange the pillow and sleeping pallet against the wall and very carefully helped him sit up to lean against it. I looked to the crack in the wall. Maybe there is hope after all.