And I Keep Holding On Novels & Stories

Alive. Minutes pass. I lose track. I feel every second stretch, elongate, press in. Every small sound—the shuffle of shoes, the soft whisper of gloves against skin, the faint hum of the monitors—beats against me. I lean forward, gripping the edge of the bed. “Hold on,” I mutter quietly, rough, steady, low enough only for me to hear. “I’ve got you. Just stay with me.”

Hold on, I told myself. Just a little longer.

And just stayed there with her. Present. Unrushed. Holding onto the moment while it was still mine to keep.

Please, A. Hold on.

I don't want to. It's the only way? I wish I had someone to tell, I want to talk to someone and I want them to help me out of this. I need someone. I can't do it by myself. A thought comes rushing in my mind, I always keep a paperclip in my pocket as I frequently use them for school. But I knew It wants me to use it in a different way. 'Just get it done.' 'Someone out there must care about me, someone out there must not want me to do this.'

"I know. I noticed. I don't want to move. I don't want to let go. I don't want to lose this connection. I don't want to break this moment. I don't want to lose this feeling." "Why? Why are you doing that? Why won't you let go? Why are you holding on so tight? Why are you so afraid to release me? Why are you so desperate to keep me?" "Because I need to feel you. I need to know you're real. I need to make sure you're here. I need to prove this isn't a dream. I need to convince myself I'm not imagining this. I need to know I'm not crazy. I need to know I'm not alone. I need to know I'm not losing you."

is keep holding his hand. Just a little longer.

Harmony I was trying to prevent myself from shaking while I was staring at my laptop. I don’t know what to feel about a post on Friendbook related to me. While I was trying to calm down, I continued to stare at a photo posted with a mocking caption. It was me, standing on a stage while in the midst of holding back my tears. The caption says, "Wow, look at your dumb rich girl stuttering through a debate. Is that all you can do? "

Like a forever held breath, imprisoned inside this house of aches and heartbreak, of resist and desist, let go once and for all. Or would it be like a bland peace, like in the muscles of the immovable dead brought back in airplanes wrapped in a large bolt of patterned fabric? Maybe hell was just going to continue in another guise ... At this point, he would smile. Hey, it isn't that bad in the land of the well-dressed satan, is it? Well, not for him. As long as they kept their hands off her Sheila, and someone made sure his baby was fed, he did not care what hells awaited for him and why ...

My sobs mix with his as we stand there, holding each other, broken but together. I don’t want to let go. Not again.