I know what you're thinking: "What the HECK! Two chapters in two days? this hasn't happened since...NEVER!" i know, I know...crazy, right. but I had a lot of inspiration tonight, and, afterall, it IS a short chapter. This one was inspired by The Mixed Tape by Jack's Mannequin. I've recently become obsessed with this band (recently meaning about 2 hours ago), and I have spent those 2 hours going on youtube and adding everything single song to my playlist (I actually created a whole new playlist just for this band) even if I don't like some of the songs. xD So I suggest you listen to them. :) I would definitely recommend either Dark Blue or Dear Jack (definitely this one). -Me gusta mucho!
anyways, back to the story. Please enjoy. I will hopefully have more of a story plot going on here in a while.
please review and fav and all that jazz.
"This is morning, that's when I spend the most time thinking 'bout what I've given up.
This is a warning, when you start the day just to close the curtains, you're thinking 'bout what I've given up."
-The Mixed Tape, Jack's Mannequin-
Fight
The moment I wake up, I'm tired. Somehow, sleep is more exhausting than being awake; just the process of opening my eyes uses my limited amount of energy. Every blink is a task, every word forced over my lips is painful, every breath costs more than it should. I wasn't sure before, but now I am absolutely certain.
This is what death feels like.
If only I really were dying, then this would be so much easier. I would know what to expect, I would be able to rest easy knowing that my destiny was decided, I wouldn't have to live in a body in which living is impossible.
They spend hours telling me what I can't do; telling me what will be hard, or near impossible. Eating, drinking, grabbing, talking, standing, walking. Then there is the one that is so much worse than the others. I can deal with having slurred speech; I can deal with drinking through a straw for the rest of my life. But this? I am to be denied the one thing that is most important? The one thing that every human being has a right to?
Feeling.
Nurses poke my arms, my legs, and my sides with needles, and I don't even notice. Edward plants a kiss on my cheek as I doze off to sleep; I only know because of his cool breath on my neck.
Jacob says goodbye and lets go of my hand for the first time in two days; I can't even feel the difference.
My heart aches as I watch his walk away from me; it aches because I want to follow him, to beg him to stay, but I can't. I'm a prisoner; just another inmate in this jail of a hospital. My body holds me captive.
Tears fall, but I can't feel them, just the ache behind my eyes.
Why can I feel the one thing I don't want to: pain.
There is no medicine that will heal this; no drug strong enough to dull the agony within me. It hurts so much.
It all hurts too much. My disabilities, Jacob, Edward, my heart.
I want to give in. So bad. I'm on the verge.
And then Edward takes my hand, and I imagine I can feel a cool reassurance in his invisible grip. He leans in close to me, so close that I can smell his honey sweet breath. He gazes into my eyes; he gazes into my eyes so intently, and he powers all his love, pain, and fear into those eyes. Those eyes that glisten a dark-caramel and water with unspillable tears. He gazes at me, and I close my eyes and imagine.
I imagine his hand around my waist, holding me up when I can't do it myself. I imagine his hand cradling mine; strong and tender, his fingers entwined with mine. I imagine his chest pressing down on me ever-so-slightly as he leans in to kiss me. And then I imagine his lips touching mine; opening and breathing life into my wilting body.
He gives me the energy - the willpower - I need to keep fighting. His eyes tell me that he knows I may not be strong enough, but he will help me. He will stand by me until the last moment; he will love me forever. And it's enough. It's enough to know that he's there, always, just a foot away, ready to catch me.
The truth is, sometimes you can't fight the battle yourself. Sometimes you need a knight in shiny armor, or maybe just someone to hold your hand through the turmoil. Sometimes you just need a little help.
The moment I wake up, I'm tired. Somehow, sleep is more exhausting than being awake; just the process of opening my eyes uses my limited amount of energy. Every blink is a task, every word forced over my lips is painful, but it's a little easier to breath.
once again, listen to Jack's Mannequin. and...REVIEW! :) I love reviews! They're like coffee (and Jack's Mannequin!) they inspire me, and inspiration equals longer/frequenter chapters. You like this muchly, I would suppose.
just on a side note: unspillable is not a word. I made it up for the purposes of my chapter. sorry...I'm just too lazy to figure out the correct way to say that he can't cry...
REVIEW please!
much love and thanks,
-isabellthelooser