Prisoning Truth
Its Your Turn. (58th Chapter)
…The Next Day (At 6:00 am)…
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Giselle's POV:
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How wonderful it is, where I am right now. I don’t know if my description would be quite accurate, but I guess I must try. It’s the phase between waking up and sleeping. Its when you notice that your soul is gliding above your body, and you notice that it is gradually gliding back into it. It’s the feeling when you wakeup, and feel refreshed; it’s the feeling of being alive in a deep sleep.
But I’m scared to open my eyes and face reality again. I’m scared that if I’ll wakeup, Santers will be still over my head to finish me off once and for all. I’m scared that if I wakeup, I might not be able to see the only person that has the power to make me smile no matter what the situation is. He’s the only reason why I am letting my soul dive back to my body, right now.
He’s the reason why my bones are flinching, as they engulf my spirit to come awaken. He’s the reason why my heart misses its billion beats in a second; Harry. Could Santers have hurt him? Is he safe? Did I manage to keep him protected from that bullet, or did Santers shoot another one at him; when I collapsed.
My mind is yelling at me with encouragement: “Wakeup, Giselle. Wakeup because you still have a lot to accomplish in your life. Wakeup and stop asking yourself so many questions, because they won’t be answered until you see them in reality.” My soul smiles at me, as I nod at the acceptance of its return. Slowly and delicately, my floating spirit lands back through my body, causing me to jolt up with a huge gasp.
I scatter at the fear of the glowing lights, but then my eyes begin to adjust at the shine. My body sends a message to my mind, which informs it that I am physically tired. I begin raising my hands up, as I succeed in loosing the oxygen mask from my mouth. I stare at myself in confusion, noticing that I am wrapped in a white dress, identical to the hospitalized ones. Before I get the chance to wonder if I truly am in a hospital, my eyes capture something wrapped around my finger (http://data1.whicdn.com/images/26509764/large.jpg).
I stare at it in bewilderment, tracing my index finger over the wings. I never got engaged in my life, yet I’m sure that the finger where the ring is placed; is the one for that exact title. The wings are carved with elegance, symbolizing the purity that is a match to an angel. Angel… Harry used to call me his earth angel.
I blink my eyelashes, turning my head to the right and freezing right there. There he sits, his back is leaning forward; allowing his head to nuzzle into the mattress. His hair looks frizzy as ever, his inked skin is pale and dry. Before I get the chance to panic, I calm down when I see his chest heaving through his sleep.
Reluctantly and without further thought, I lean to the middle of his sculpt, landing a kiss through his long strings of hair. He begins to mumble something, which makes my heartbeat gain that speed that only occurs when he’s around: “Wakeup, wakeup, wakeup…” I run my tired fingers through his hair, combing them softly.
The sensation of my skin touching a part of him makes it regain the strength to function properly. How is it that only one touch, is able to give me that ability to return to my normality? “(I whisper with a dry throat) I’m awake, it’s your turn to wakeup, Harry…”
...........................
Giselle's POV:
..........................
How wonderful it is, where I am right now. I don’t know if my description would be quite accurate, but I guess I must try. It’s the phase between waking up and sleeping. Its when you notice that your soul is gliding above your body, and you notice that it is gradually gliding back into it. It’s the feeling when you wakeup, and feel refreshed; it’s the feeling of being alive in a deep sleep.
But I’m scared to open my eyes and face reality again. I’m scared that if I’ll wakeup, Santers will be still over my head to finish me off once and for all. I’m scared that if I wakeup, I might not be able to see the only person that has the power to make me smile no matter what the situation is. He’s the only reason why I am letting my soul dive back to my body, right now.
He’s the reason why my bones are flinching, as they engulf my spirit to come awaken. He’s the reason why my heart misses its billion beats in a second; Harry. Could Santers have hurt him? Is he safe? Did I manage to keep him protected from that bullet, or did Santers shoot another one at him; when I collapsed.
My mind is yelling at me with encouragement: “Wakeup, Giselle. Wakeup because you still have a lot to accomplish in your life. Wakeup and stop asking yourself so many questions, because they won’t be answered until you see them in reality.” My soul smiles at me, as I nod at the acceptance of its return. Slowly and delicately, my floating spirit lands back through my body, causing me to jolt up with a huge gasp.
I scatter at the fear of the glowing lights, but then my eyes begin to adjust at the shine. My body sends a message to my mind, which informs it that I am physically tired. I begin raising my hands up, as I succeed in loosing the oxygen mask from my mouth. I stare at myself in confusion, noticing that I am wrapped in a white dress, identical to the hospitalized ones. Before I get the chance to wonder if I truly am in a hospital, my eyes capture something wrapped around my finger (http://data1.whicdn.com/images/26509764/large.jpg).
I stare at it in bewilderment, tracing my index finger over the wings. I never got engaged in my life, yet I’m sure that the finger where the ring is placed; is the one for that exact title. The wings are carved with elegance, symbolizing the purity that is a match to an angel. Angel… Harry used to call me his earth angel.
I blink my eyelashes, turning my head to the right and freezing right there. There he sits, his back is leaning forward; allowing his head to nuzzle into the mattress. His hair looks frizzy as ever, his inked skin is pale and dry. Before I get the chance to panic, I calm down when I see his chest heaving through his sleep.
Reluctantly and without further thought, I lean to the middle of his sculpt, landing a kiss through his long strings of hair. He begins to mumble something, which makes my heartbeat gain that speed that only occurs when he’s around: “Wakeup, wakeup, wakeup…” I run my tired fingers through his hair, combing them softly.
The sensation of my skin touching a part of him makes it regain the strength to function properly. How is it that only one touch, is able to give me that ability to return to my normality? “(I whisper with a dry throat) I’m awake, it’s your turn to wakeup, Harry…”
Notes
1 more chapter coming right up, so:
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I totally love your books. The first book I ever read on this website was Forbidden Love which was written by you and it was fantastic. That book has become my favorite on this site and you should keep writing because you're good at it. Keep up the excellent work. Bye!!!
6/2/16