Letting Go

major cliffhanger. but i think its the best chapter?

ISABELLA

I’m not sure why he’s still here. It’s been, almost, three hours of dead silence, and yet he still sits, by my desk, watching.. waiting. I sit in the far corner, as far from him as possible, thinking. It doesn’t help the situation much. He’s still here. I’ve calmed my movements well enough that I doubt he can tell my thoughts. My eyes are dry; cried out. And yet, I still feel the urgency to cry, to tell him to go away and never come back; to tell him to run while he still can.

 

As if hearing my own thoughts isn’t enough. I don’t need him trying to fix me; trying to help me. He doesn’t need the stress, either. I’m sure that even someone with a life as good as his still has their own problems. Why should he be bothered with mine?

 

Never let them see you cry. The old saying my mother used to tell me fights its way to the front of my mind. Too late. I let out a sob, uncontrollably, as I make this realization. I’ve failed her.

 

“Isabella?” Christopher’s voice was soft, yet urgent. He was surprised by my cry. I sink farther into the corner, pulling my legs tighter against my chest and lay my head against my knees.

 

How could I let her down? After all she did for me, this one boy has broken my bond with her; my connection I’ve held onto for the past eight years. I guess I wasn’t so cried out after all.

 

It all rushes back to me; the last night I saw my mother. Lying in that hospital bed..

 

“Isabella, stop it.” I feel a set of cool hands over mine. I only then realize I’m piercing my skin with my hands; claw like. I release my hands, letting them fall weak at my side, letting the tides of emotions take me under; take me to sea.

 

“Isabella, talk to me.” His voice was angelic, and I hated that about him. It captures me, especially in my moment of utter weakness. I feel his body beside me, now against the wall, on the floor with mine. Talk to him.. even if I wanted to, that would be impossible. Where to begin? What to say? How to say it?

 

The power of his eyes astound me. Without even the connection to mine, I can feel the sympathy pouring from within. I don’t need sympathy, I need the past. “You can’t keep it bottled up inside.” His voice was calming, soothing even. My body’s reaction was a laugh. “I have for eight years.” My voice was hoarse, worn and unnatural.

 

“You’ve been in pain for eight years..” He assumes, trying to break my silence. I shake my head, involuntary. “Longer?” He asks, obviously watching my each and every expression; each movement. “Since birth.” My voice was barely above a whisper, and I’m not entirely sure he heard me.

 

He was quiet for a moment, thinking to himself. I half wondered if he was even thinking of me. He could be thinking of an easy way to escape my room, without furthering this discussion. I wouldn’t blame him. Actually, I hope for that turn in his judgment.

 

“You lost your mother.” Christopher’s eyes pull on me, as they have before. I cannot help but to look into his. This was not something he knew, but something he guessed. “I’m right, aren’t I?” He asks, his tone flat, no longer sympathetic, nor had it grown arrogant.

 

“How?” He asked, and I feel my lip tremble. “Why are you doing this?” “Because we all have pasts,” He begins, turning at an angle better forward, towards me. “Sometimes we can’t let go.. sometimes it takes a friend to help pull us through.”

 

Friend. I had lost my only friend when I was six years old, so how was I supposed to let myself fall into the same trap? How was I supposed to set myself up for more disappointment? “Sometimes it takes trust in someone you’ve only just met..” He says, focusing his eyes deeper into mine. “You can trust me, Isabella, you can.”

 

His words are too easy to believe. I’d be a fool to trust in him, a complete stranger, right? So why do I feel myself letting go? I breathe in the air surrounding us; as much as possible, cleansing my initial thoughts to run, to be the one that says no, to continue my life, alone. I open my mouth to speak and pray that the right words, the right decisions, follow the actions I make.

Author's Note

ahhh;; kill me. go ahead? rant at me if you hate it. or tell me what you like.. i want to know detailed thoughts?

Reviews

[Martina]

Love this! Don't have anything else to say but just keep up the good work! (Saying this alot cause that is really all I have to say)

[Farrah Grahm]

I thought this was very good. It was an internal struggle the reader has yet to understand, which is funny, because we get the entire story from the protagonist, and she never lets the cat out of the bag really, Builds suspense.
Written beautifully. kind of surreal. I like that. Good job!

[anneliese]

this is amazing! a breath of fresh air after what i just read (not naming names). i thought that you worded it beutifully and can't find falt. you have a god given talent. Great Job!!