He held her close. Her blonde hair was damp from her sweat and her closed eyes fluttered weakly. Her face looked pale and young. She was young; she just turned eighteen the month before.
How can this happen? Will she really die, and leave me here, alone? I never meant for it to go this way, he thought helplessly. Why is it that the innocent die before they have a chance to live and the evil people live to be old? She doesn’t deserve this, he thought as he stared at the floor.
This morning he would have never imagined that only a few, short hours later, he’d hold her like this, unconscious and nearly lifeless. The difference a few hours make.
He remembered how her eyes would brighten as she talked about the things she loved. She may never speak again, he thought desperately.
Even if she does live, it won’t ever be the same. Not after all that has happened.
He grasped her tighter and stroked her hair, maybe for the last time…
This post was inspired by The Daily Post, a blog where you can find daily writing prompts. Comment below how you think this story ends.