15-slow-dance

Liana Moore

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The things that nauseate me in hospitals are the putrid stench of blood and medicine.

I was done staring silently at Mister Ross who was stuck in his unknown world. He was probably playing football or in the farm cultivating or perhaps he was busy in the office trying to make it big. Those were his favorite.

"Try to snap out of your sleep soon, I have a lot to feed you." A forced feeble smile appeared on my lips. "You are the only person who listens."

I held his hand into mine and began caressing him. "You know, I never got a shoulder to cry on or anyone to pour my pain to. I am pretending that everything is okay but the nightmares won't allow me to sleep."

I drew my lower lip between my teeth and bit it so hard to control the tears threatening to stream.

"But I am okay. Really." I smiled. "Though I miss Dad even though he never liked me. I still wish he was alive even if he did not like me."

I loved my parents regardless. I used to see some signs that they never