Spoiler! :
Sometimes in the thick, foggy November nights I like to think, listening to the patter of the clouds' tears hitting the pavement and the grass. I walk alone in the hazy streets; my tears scream my pain, the pain no one knows. Every night these streets whisper the truth. Was I ever good enough?
I get lost in these hellish thoughts of mine, and as I arrive at a brightly lit cafe, I take a seat outside. Images flash in my mind; the crash from two years ago seem as if it is playing out in front of me. The collison blew up both cars, leaving only one survivor.
That unlucky survivor was me, Alice Thompson.
Before my eyes, red fire explodes outwards, sending flames to seductively lick my face. I feel the heat, the same harsh heat I felt that night.
I feel the windows bust behind me, and I turn my head slightly to gather the full scene. Everything seems to freeze, the only motion is the singular, lonesome tear that escaped my own eye's grasp. I can't help but wonder if I was even good enough to live. Why did this happen to me?
I stroke one of my many scars, this one being on my wrist. The fire scorched my family; They say it was a miracle that I wasn't too ashes molded into a bloody figure of a human.
Whenever I came to in the bed of an ambulance, the first thing I saw was him. Those eyes of his held so much, and, for a second, I didn't want to leave his invisible embrace. But I needed to, I had to. I swiftly got up and ran wobbily to my mother's side of the car. When I got there, there was no door. It was somewhere lost on the road.
I look in at my mother and freeze, standing in silence. I consume the sights of my father and older brother, Eric. He was just seventeen, two years than I was at the time. After what seems like an eternity of staring at their newly charcoled skin, I scream. All my lost faith, my pain, my lonliness; they voice their presence. An hour had passed and I had gone from having the world to having nothing at all.
Would I ever be good enough to see the light of life again?
Someone rushed over to me with a blanket and hugged me tightly, concious of my scrapes and bruises. I sobbed into the shoulder of the tall stranger. The person picked me up and carried me to the outside of a brightly lit cafe. We rest against the building and I look up to unmask the stranger with my eyes.
I slowly scan up his face, starting at his chin. My eyes slid to his soft seashell red lips, then backed up the slope of his nose, and saw his unhuman honey eyes. His lashes surrounded the eyeball in a translucent shield each time he blinked, hinting at the color of his iris.
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