Pull Out My Insides

My hands again run through my hair for the millionth time tonight, or at least it seems that way. The dam overflows and breaks through and then I’m crying. I can’t believe it; my ex-girlfriend’s dead. Maybe I don’t love her anymore, but she was one of my best friends and was always there for me. I’m going to find that drunk driver and I’m going to kill him. Kill him for killing such a great girl; my best friend. I’m going to make him pay for killing a girl that could’ve cured cancer or been the first woman President of the United States. I bury my head in my hands and think. I wish that I could’ve told her how much that she meant to me before she died. And that puts a thought into my head and my legs have a mind of their own, running towards the hospital without my consent. Soon, I run up to her room, out of breath and out of peace of mind. If Zara doesn’t come out of this coma, then I need to tell her how I feel about her… even if she’s not conscious during it.

I push the door open carefully a few minutes later to see the room empty and the usual Zara, looking as beautifully serene as ever. I pace a few times, back and forth, back and forth, trying to get my mind straight and figure out what to say.

“I—I know that you may never hear this and stuff, but… you need to hear it… God, I can’t get you out of my head. You drive me fucking crazy, Zara Randall. I don’t know if I like it, I don’t know if I don’t like it. I just know that I can’t get you out of my head. And I miss the fire in your eyes when you tell me off and the little things that you do that I somehow notice. I—I just… I don’t know… you’re a plague on my brain, and I’m not sure if you’re bad or good. Please, enlighten me. I’m so confused, Zara. Okay, I think that I’m good. I’m done,” I say and start to walk out of the door, not wanting to be around her anymore and get myself even more confusedeven though it feels so right to be around her.

And then I hear a weak, nearly audible voice.

“Asher?”

Fuck.