Untouchable
Chapter 1.
I hate promiser's, Officially. He'd promise he would come back, sort this out, if I promised him I'd run away. Thinking about what I did made me sick. I promised to run away like the coward I was, to save myself, save myself for what exactly?
Technically I broke my promise. I didn't know what I was saving myself from. All this pain and regret? or whatever he was protecting me from.
I remember it perfectly. despite it had been three months. Which felt like three years. Still no word, to no one, not even to he's family, not even to me. That hurt.
Not even a phone call? To assure him he was stall breathing?
Though of course I knew he wasn't dead. But how did he know I knew. He didn't. I bet he just wanted me to suffer even more. To think he was dead.
I'd spent 8 years thinking he was dead, along with the rest of our friends. But after about 2 years he was nothing but a distance memory to most of them, a vague memory. But me, I'd always have hope he'd come back. Have faith that he'd come and take me away with him.
But them hopes soon faded, when I realized he wasn't coming back for me.
All the wasted days, of waiting, watching, hoping. I eventually realized it wasn't worth it. It was like waiting on death to come get me. Long and painful. It wasn't until I was twelve years old before I realized this, until I was old enough to realize what death was.
When someone died they were never coming back, you'd never see that person again, in this life anyway. This was extremely unfair in my opinion. So everyones nagging finally got to me.
He wasn't coming back. Ever. But they were wrong, they just didn't realize this.
Technically I broke my promise. I didn't know what I was saving myself from. All this pain and regret? or whatever he was protecting me from.
I remember it perfectly. despite it had been three months. Which felt like three years. Still no word, to no one, not even to he's family, not even to me. That hurt.
Not even a phone call? To assure him he was stall breathing?
Though of course I knew he wasn't dead. But how did he know I knew. He didn't. I bet he just wanted me to suffer even more. To think he was dead.
I'd spent 8 years thinking he was dead, along with the rest of our friends. But after about 2 years he was nothing but a distance memory to most of them, a vague memory. But me, I'd always have hope he'd come back. Have faith that he'd come and take me away with him.
But them hopes soon faded, when I realized he wasn't coming back for me.
All the wasted days, of waiting, watching, hoping. I eventually realized it wasn't worth it. It was like waiting on death to come get me. Long and painful. It wasn't until I was twelve years old before I realized this, until I was old enough to realize what death was.
When someone died they were never coming back, you'd never see that person again, in this life anyway. This was extremely unfair in my opinion. So everyones nagging finally got to me.
He wasn't coming back. Ever. But they were wrong, they just didn't realize this.