Hold My Hand

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Short Story

A young adolescent woman involved in a car accident uncovers how one action or event can affect her future.

Submitted: September 14, 2018

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Submitted: September 14, 2018



"What's meant to be will always find a way"- Trisha Yearwood

A thud and thunk and she turned to the right. Blue eyes, cool like the sky and dark hair, dark like the night sky. Broad shouldered, medium build and red pimples across his cheeks. Glasses resting on his hooked nose. Smiling at her sweetly without saying a word. She smiles back and turns towards the front, facing the classroom projector the size of an average move theatre screen. She feels a presence there with her, a change in the air. Turning right again and stares. Stares at the twelve year old male who is still staring at her. Still smiling all the same. 

"Hi," he says brightly. 

"Hi," she replied hesitantly. 

"I'm Dean. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you Dean," she replies curtly, wishing he would leave her to her own devices and not be staring at her. People were staring, his friends snickering. She didn't have to look in that direction to know they were there, all she had to do was listen to the world around her. Bowing her head, she looks down towards her non-existent work with embarrassment. Would he ever look in any direction away from her?

"What's your name?"

'Stop looking at me and listen to the teacher. That's my name every time you're going to ask. I can see your friends over there and don't think I don't know what shit you're up to," she responds aggresively in tone.

Defensive, distant and cold. That's how she had always been since him. She had been always the target of fake love, twisted love, hate, bullying and general manipulation from both friends, boyfriends and undefined partners. The teacher's voice was distant in the background, discussing soemthing relative to physics and the space becomes empty and spacious. A pause, a breath then a reply. 

"I actually don't know those guys over there. I mean, I do because they used to bully me in sixth grade about not being able to get a girlfriend or ever. So they're technically laughing at me, the physics nerd talking to someone female and attractive.Apparently nerds can't talk to anything that's not a brick wall," he replied shyly. 

She looks up him. Apologetic in her eyes. Eyes drooping, eyebrows furrowing. 

"Julia. My name is Julia." She reached out and they're eyes locked. Understanding. He met her in middle and shook hands and wouldn't let go. That was how it began. 

---7 Years Later---

Thump, thump, thump. Her heart she can hear. Blood racing into her eardrum. He hear ti sracing, her breath panting and her anxiety raising. She hangs tighter, grips and strangles the fingers in her own. The room is cold, the air brisk and making her shoulders shiver and shake even more so. Disinfectant and blood smothers the air and that's all she can breathe. Not air, just the metallic iron in the blood she can see is covered on her shirt. Her shirt is practically swimmin in red. She tries to look around but her eyes won't open. Locked in a semi-open, semi-closed position and fight the urge to shut and never see the world again. What she can see is her shirt, covered in patches of crimson blood and the blinding white light that causes her to blink faster and eyes water. All she is certain of is that he is here. That is what she is strangling and gripping onto for dear life. That's all she wants, all she needs. What has happened? A car accident, plane crash, stabbing or mugging? It doesn't matter as long as he stays and grips tighter. 

Water falls on her cheeks but it's not from her but from him. Tears streaking down his cheeks, his hands framing her face and resting his forehead on hers. 

"Stay with me and I'll never let you go. I know I have before, I know that's why you're here now because I let you go but hang in there and I swear to God I will never leave you're side unless you want me to." 

A kiss, frozen in time. The love is frozen too. Then black. 


An autumn breeze walks on by. She feels the brisk wind brush her arms and dance along her legs. The world underneath her is hard and strong like wood. Her palms flatten across the surface and scratch it, discovering it to be just that. She opens her eyes slowly and tries to remember what happened. A fight, yelling and shouting and arguing over something so simple as what to cook for dinner. They had both been stressed, pushed to breakig points in their lives and clinging to each other because that was the only thing they were sure of. Each other. She had never sprinted to a door quicker in her life, so quick that she had not seen the incoming taxi cab until its shining lights flashed in front of her eyes. 

She remembers him being there. His hands linked with hers in a place she could only assume was the ambulance. That would explain the blood and antiseptic smell. She looks at her hands and around her. Dean knowwhere to be seen. Where was she? A tiny little wooden room with a child's bed, a small bedside table with a pink doll and matching lamp. Posters and drawings covered the walls, seeming to belong to a young child. Crayons and oil pastels thrown across paper, rainbows and unicorn sketches left unfinished. Crossing the room, yanking the door open and sprints down the steps, each one creaking under her feet as she descends. The breeze she felt before dances across the living room and kitchen at the bottom of the winding staircase. A cozy cottage, family phots adorning the wall of a young man, woman and small girl with brown pigtails, red ribbons and hazel eyes just like hers. Coffee left unfinsihed lies on the kitchen countertop next to half eaten scrammbled eggs and the smell breathes into her nose. She turns around to the kitchen and she finds no one there. The side door is left open and the wind pushes it open further for her. She walks out and there she sees him. Sitting on the porch with a young girl at his side, curled up into his chest and his arms snug around her like a protective blanket. Shielding her from the world around them. The world that seemed oddly calm and serene and beautiful. Utopian even. He turns and he smiles at her. The same smile she had despised so much when they first met. She walks over and sit down next him. His arms snakes across her shoulders and she leans in. 

"What happened? I thought I was dying and you were there and it was cold and dark..I don't know..where are we?" she asked frantically. 

"You are right. You are dying," he responds flatly.

"Then how are you here?" she askes confused. Is he dying too?

He smiles fondly at her, raising his hand to her cheek.

"I'm not really here. This is just a place that can show you what can happen, what can be. But only if you choose to stay. None of this will be possible unless you choose to fight, unless you to choose to love and grow and live. Yes, life is hard. Unbearable sometimes. We fight, we argue but we do love. Here, this place in between, shows you that is all worth it. Just stay."

Their foreheads touch. Their tears touch each other. Her hands cover and link his and squeeze. 

"For the sake of our daughter, stay."

-The world turns black.-

She looks around again and is met with the sound of the beep, beep, beep of the monitor. A cathedar in her left arm, cannula in her nose and a white gown across her shoulders. Hard cushioned pillows underneath her back and a man at her side. A hand in hers, holding on for dear life. She squeezes and he wakes. He laughs, shouts in happiness and seals her lips with his, showing her how much he loves her. 

Smiling, laughing, crying. She knows where she is supposed to be. She knows what she is supposed to do. She was supposed to love. 

"Marry me?" she asks. 

-The End-

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