Page 79 of Lilah

"There was a hill. A huge hill that we rolled down off the side of the road. Steep, it was so steep," a tear rolls down my cheek.

"I don't remember how long it took us to get to the bottom of the hill, the doctors said I went unconscious," I feel my face scrunch up as I try to keep my crying silent.

"But I woke up when we got done rolling and were just sitting there. I don't know how long I was out for. But I woke up and we were upside down."

My eyes peel open and the excruciating pain all over the right side of my body makes me want to go back away. I try to take a breath but the pain in my rib makes me almost unable to. I start wheezing.

Jake.

I turn my head over to Jake. He's going to be okay. He's so tough.

His eyes are open, they look right at me. Blood covers him, glass is stuck in his arm, his face is mostly covered in blood.

But he's okay. He's looking right at me. He's probably waiting for me to wake up already.

"Jake," I croak out, wheezing and trying my hardest to take breaths. He doesn't respond. He doesn't blink.

He lays at the roof, his neck bent in an odd direction as he looks at me. Why isn't he responding?

"Jake?" I wheeze out for a final time as it hurts too bad to breathe.

I let my eyes close knowing that he'll be here later to tell me that everything is okay.

"I thought he was alive," I choke on a sob, "he was looking right at me, his eyes opened. He had blood all over him but he was looking at me."

I finally let the cry leave my lips. I put my face in my hands, hating to cry so hard in front of him.

I thought he was okay.

I finally control myself for a bit before taking my hands away.

"He was DOA. His neck was broken, he severed his spinal cord. He was gone before they even got there."

And what do I get? Broken ribs, collapsed lung, dislocated shoulder, shattered patella, torn ACL, broken tibia and fibula,and grade three concussion? It should've been me. It was all my fault it should've been me with the broken neck.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, realizing that he probably didn't really want to hear any of that. I wipe the tears from my face and for the first time, I turn to him.

His eyes look right back at me. His face sits in a calm rest. He looks at me as if he's trying to read me.

"You blame yourself, don't you?" my heart holts at his words.

My eyes fall to the tatted hand that rests lazily on the hood beside me. A new round of tears fills my eyes at hearing him ask me.

I roll my lips into my mouth to keep them from wiggling. I look back up at him, my eyes begging to let the tears fall. His eyes soften as he looks at me.

Just looking at me, he can already tell the answer.

His strong arms wrap themselves around me. I'm lifted onto his lap like I weigh no more than a slice of pizza.

With my legs on either side of him, he pulls me close to him, his hand coming to rest on the side of my face. At the moment, it doesn't register to me how unfriendly we're sitting but neither of us cares.

Whenever I'm upset, I turn to ice cream. It makes me feel better. He's starting to give me the same feeling. He's the ice cream, my Sugar. He best learn to deal with me calling him that.

He pulls me further to him and his forehead comes to rest on mine. He gives me his silent support. His actions speak louder than any words could. He's here for me.

He smells like my greatest dreams that have been dipped in heaven's pure waters.

I let my eyes close, basking in the feeling of him. Then I get confused. Why is he comforting me when it's my fault? Why am I letting?