September 2nd 2013; 3:12am
I opened my eyes with a start and sat up in my bed, looking out into the darkness. A thin sheen of sweat had formed on my forehead and my heart was racing.
I hastily reached over the side of my bed and switched on my lamp.
A sickening feeling settled in the pit of my stomach so I got off my bed and ran to the bathroom, bile rising my throat. I opened the toilet just as the vomit came rushing out of my mouth.
Panting, I sat on the floor and called out Lolita's name
All I wanted to do was hold her, tell her that I was sorry about that night, about everything.
I needed her to know that we would be together forever and that I would never let her go.
I wanted her to tell me she loved me and that it wasn't my fault; but it was.
It had all been my fault although I wasn't ready to accept it just yet
Silence was my only answer as I called out her name once more. Slowly, I shook my head and hugged my knees to my chest, rocking myself back and forth.
Lolita was gone.
"It wasn't my fault," I muttered desperately to myself as if trying to believe what everyone had told me countless of times. The wind blew in through the bathroom window, causing a violent shiver to run through me.
I picked myself up off the floor and after flushing the toilet, I stared at myself in the mirror.
"School" a taunting voice whispered in my head.
Groaning, I ran my hands through my hair and tried to calm my heart that was still racing a mile a minute. After a few more huge breaths, I picked my toothbrush and began cleaning my teeth, desperately trying to get the nasty taste of bile out of my mouth. When I was done, I splashed some water over my face and stared at myself in the mirror once more.
Bright green eyes stared back at me.
Why couldn't I have taken my father's dull brown eyes?
Annoyed, I got out my black contacts and slipped each one in, erasing any trace of the cursed color.
With a sigh, I stripped off my clothes and glanced at the time. Realizing it was still too early for school, I decided on a bath instead of a shower.
Filling up the bathtub, I sat on the edge of it and stared at the aged tiles on the floor that had become brown over the months of no cleaning. With nothing else to do, I traced the nearly faded patterns on the floor with my eyes, slowly following them up the wall before they disappeared behind a broken frame that was hanging loosely as if holding on for dear life.
I stood up and walked over to the frame, hoping to see a picture filled with happy memories that would help me forget the dreams that were still haunting me, if only for a couple of hours.
The frame was empty.
Frustrated, I picked up the dusty frame and threw it across the room. As it hit the opposite wall and shattered on impact, it took some of the plaster on the wall with it.
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