First part was published yesterday.
Chilling shivers crawled in my veins when I saw my bloody-self inside my wrecked car.
“So what am I now? Am I a soul now? Am I dead? Am I alive?” I shouted but no voice left me.
The ambulance arrived. Several medical staffs tried to retrieve my blood-soaked body. The unfolding scene is nauseating but I urged myself to think straight.
I collected myself and prepared to run to get inside the ambulance.
But I stopped as I felt a warm yet slightly cold hand touch my arms.
I am unsure if my heart is still alive but it surely beat fast once my skin recognized this hand.
This hand belongs to the man I was supposed to marry five years ago.
This hand belongs to the man I cried and yelled at when he was not able to see me on that fateful day of October.
I waited on our corner but he did not come because he died.
But this hand… is definitely….
“No, no, no, no.” “This is couldn’t be. This couldn’t be.”
But my senses say otherwise.
This is how his touch feels like.
And this is how he makes me feel.
I slowly turned around.
And urged myself to look up.
My heart stopped.
Because the hand resting is my arm is indeed… his.
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer