by S. E. Hall
My heart. It had to be.
With my hands covering my face, palms pooling with salty tears, my ears rang with a buzzing horn. I looked up, squinting into the distance.
There was a light ahead. Someone was coming back for me.
Logan.
It had to be Logan. None of it was real. He would never say those things. Never toss me aside.
The light drew closer, a blinding ray suddenly racing toward me.
I lifted my trembling hands over my eyes, tilting my head, anxious to make out the approaching figure. It was so bright, too intense, and glaring into the wetness of my eyes. I couldn’t see, couldn’t understand, until the car horn blared through the air. Suddenly it was on me, crashing, barreling my body into nothing until all I felt was pain as the unknown consumed me.
I jerked up, fighting to catch my breath.
The familiar dry air of the hospital room eased me back onto the thin pillows on the small bed. It was all a dream—a horrible nightmare I could never escape. Five long days trapped in tiny rooms, and every night I closed my eyes and found him waiting for me. Each kiss took away the painful memory of that night, slowly erasing it until I was lost in his arms in that dark alley. His touch and longing were all I felt, all I lived for there. But it wasn’t real.