1: ColdA Chapter by Melissa
His hand felt warm against my cold arm. The warmth comforted me and left me longing for more. I huddled my body against his just to keep warm in the bitter cold that I felt. The weather wasn't cold, I was; I was dying and I could feel it. The icy hand of death was gripping at my soul, but I wouldn't give up that easy, I wouldn't die until I told him how I felt about him but I didn't want to. I felt embarrassed to tell him. He found me half-unconscious leaning against a tree huddled up in a ball. That's when he placed a warm hand on my arm. I was only capable of moving enough to get closer to the warmth. There was pain in my side when I moved. It was from earlier, the reason why I was cold. Warm blood had left my body through the hole the knife had made, leaving me cold. I shivered in his arms. Although my vision was blurred, I still knew it was he. The way he touched me, no one else had the same gentle and soft hands that he did; also, the way he smelled, it was a unique sent that could not be recreated no matter how hard some one tried, after all, I had. I longed for that sent whenever he was gone, whenever we were apart, I wanted that smell. I felt safe when I smelled that smell. That safe feeling was a luxury in this lifetime; people were always attacked or killed in this day and age. All anyone could do any more was try to survive one day at a time. Survive the cold, survive the famine, survive the violence, and just survive life. The entire human race had succumbed to killing each other for food and clothing after using what little resources were left. He was one of the few people left that didn't kill; he saved. His name is Liam and he saved me. And as I was lying there, in his arms, dying, all I could think of was how much I loved this man. His kind demeanor, his blue eyes, his light brown hair, everything about him, saved me from the darkness that consumed the modern world and was starting to consume my heart. I wish I were back in simpler times, in one of those little Italian villas, where everyone knew each other, and you could go to the market and buy fresh ingredients to make good things to eat every day. There were various spots of land that the deranged humans felt inhabitable and they were left untouched. In those spots, there were patches of forest. The industrialization and urbanization had ruined that though. Too many people in too little space, dead bodies all over. The youngest people were now sixteen or seventeen, I was one of them, the last generation this horrible world will see in centuries. I was a bit older, twenty, but I was one of them nonetheless; so was Liam, he's twenty-one. The innocence of children had been long lost years ago. I don't even remember when there was such thing as innocence; all I can remember is the hatred and darkness that consumed the world a few months ago. The only innocence I remember is ever present in my dreams and is locked up in my unconscious mind. "Abrianna, are you okay? Abrianna, say something to me." Liam said to my close to lifeless frame. "Liam, I'm dying." I replied softly, holding onto life by a thread. "Don't say that, you're going to be fine."
"Liam, there's something I have to tell you."
"You're pregnant?"
I gave a small laugh at this. "No, I love you." I said, mustering up my courage to have it be said. "I'm going to take you to the hospital and hope that there is an empty bed there and a doctor that has a few spare minutes to lend his services to you." He said as if he didn't hear what I just said to him. "Liam?"
"Yes?"
"Didn't you just hear what I said?" I asked sadly.
"Yes I did."
"And?"
"And what?"
"What do you have to say to that?"
"This." He said leaning down and kissing me. "But we will discus this after we get you some help." He said picking me up off the ground. I groaned in pain and I was still shivering.
"Liam, I'm cold." I said weakly.
He set me down on the cold ground and took off his jacket. He put it around me tightly, picked me back up, and continued our trek to the hospital. In a few minutes, we were at the hospital. I wasn't as clean as it used to be and there were people all over it but it was better than nothing at all. There were doctors running all over the place that volunteered their time to save people, after all there was no use in having money any more, all that did was give you trouble. It kind of reminds me of something that I learned back in high school. After World War I, the German's had to pay all of the reparations, and after a while the inflation of the money grew so high you were better off burning your money to keep warm than to try and buy something with it. It is funny how history repeats itself, except this time it's on a grand scale. Liam got a doctor to attend to me and I was brought into the emergency room. They said that I lost a lot of blood and that I would need several blood transfusions. They asked Liam if he knew my blood type and he told them that it was O+, which was true. I was lucky; I could accept any type of blood and not have my own blood fight it. As soon as they put the blood into me, I already felt warmer than I had before. They fixed up my wound and bandaged me up. They released me and I was carried back out of the hospital by Liam. Only the most severe cases were allowed to stay due to the lack of hospital beds. "Can you walk?" He asked me.
"Maybe, I don't know." I replied now much less tired. He put me down on my feet and I tried to walk but it hurt too much. "Ow! Nope, I can't walk yet." I said to him.
"Well hopefully you'll be able to walk again soon."
"Hey what's that supposed to mean?"
"Just only that in case we get attacked you can run too because I know how fast you can run and carrying you slows me down. Not that you're heavy." "Okay, that's better."
"Well, why would I not want to carry the woman I love in my arms?" "I don't know but I do know that I want another kiss from you." I said with a smile. © 2008 Melissa
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7 Reviews Added on February 5, 2008 AuthorMelissaNYAboutI've been around for 20 years now and am majoring in Music History and Culture at Syracuse University. Sometimes I write, sometimes I don't, and whether or not it's any good, I can never tell. And my .. more..Writing
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