Alison's POV.

My breathing comes out in heavy pants as I mutter quietly, begging and imploring my legs to go faster.

[A/N: I can legit smell the sinners from here.]

The sliding doors, open silently, head bowed as if sensing the depression around its home. Soft murmurs fill the room around me, families holding each other close as they fight back tears.

A young couple stands a few meters to the left of me, tears rolling freely from their cheeks as the grim faced doctor walks away silently.

My body comes to quivering halt as I near the receptionist, fingers digging into the hard desk separating me and the lady.

"I'm here for Blake Ryder."I gasp out, pressing the heel of palm to my chest as I try and steady my breathing from sprinting to the private hospital after hitting the taxi driver with money.

She sets her mug of coffee on the table, bored eyes taking me in before her fingers press tiredly on the keyboard before her, an aggravated sigh falling from her lips.

"I'm sorry, but only family members can visit him at the moment."she says, smiling unapologetically.

"I'm his cousin."I snap, fist coming down on the table, "What's his damn room number?"

She glares at me, lips pursed in distaste as she scrolls down, "Room 313."

I don't look back to thank her but make a run for the elevator, punching in the floor number using the map of hospital as a reference.

"310. 311...312 and 313."

I shove open the door without hesitation, heart hammering loudly in my ears.

There Elizabeth is, slumped in her seat, soft snores emitting from her opened mouth, a fashion magazine resting uncomfortable upon her chest.

Her step-father sits at her right, he too fast asleep, glasses tipping dangerously at the end of his nose.

The middle of the room accustoms a large bed, sheets a gentle green as if any colour so bold would startle the patient.

The patient being Blake.

It is only then do I notice the true bodily injuries to the man laying on the bed.

Both his arms are heavily bandaged, blue and white chords winding across the beds and plugged into a machine beside him.

His face is skinny and thin from where I am, cheeks hollow and skin pale and white as if the life had been sucked out of him.

Dark bags heave at his eyes, lips a pale pink as if it were struggling to shine the deadly crimson i was so accustomed to.

A steady beep emits from the screen opposite me, a sign that at least he was alive, injured he may be but breathing.

My fingers unconsciously trace his jawline, breath held in as if the slightest of pressure on him would destroy the string that was holding him from the dark pit of death.

His skin is soft underneath my fingers, untouched.
My hearts to feel more of him, feel him against me.

I blush profusely, scolding myself from thinkings such thoughts.

He wronged me.

Maybe, maybe he did.

But didn't I too? Didn't I give him a wrong impression of myself right from the start, leading him to believe that I didn't give the slightest care about him.

For I had blamed him for doing something that I too had acted upon.

Guilt strikes heavily at my stomach, churning uncomfortably as I come to terms with my wrongs.

But then again, my mind fights back, stubborn against the fact that it had been wrong all along, it didn't give any right to name me such names nor treat with such disrespect.

He said sorry.

My heart begged for me to come to it's terms, refusing to agree with my mind, the term of love something it relied heavily against.

I'm like two people in one body. Two opinions in one result.

There were times when my mind took control, holding the reigns firmly in its hands then there were rare moment when my heart fought with all its night for dominance, earning itself a slicker of absolute control.

And that time was now.

Now my heart was me. My heart was the captain.

And it was to take what it had been deprived of.

I find myself leaning down, skin tingling as our bodies brush against one another, heart hammering in my chest.

His lips are so soft. Delicate as if it were a petal of a rose.

Fragile.

Begging for me to not shatter him.

My lips brush over his, warmth spreading over my chest as I move my lips against his still ones.

Cold ones.

Lifeless ones.

Maybe it's pathetic of me. To take advantage of an ill man. A man I had shunned away.

A man I was keeping myself away from. A man that I could have have but didn't have the courage to open the door for.

Maybe.

The kiss isn't magical nor does sparks erupt against my skin, leaving me in a breathless frenzy.

I do not feel like a teenage girl, a toothy grin upon my lips.

I feel content.

I feel as though I had everything but nothing. I feel as though my grudges against a man who had built himself into a better person were simply tales.

I feel forgiving.

Not entirely.

I feel as if I had finally excepted what had occurred between us. Finally harboured mutual feelings for his arrogance. Finally moved on from the past.

For what would've helped if I had allowed myself to whither in hate and misery?

It wouldn't have helped neither of us.

It was better to move on. Learn.

I didn't want to be stuck in the past anymore. Didn't want to hear the thundering insults explode in my mind. Didn't want to cry.

A new page. A fresh start.

Let it go.

And I do.

The anger I hold for the man beneath me, disappears.

Like a leaf in the wind, it folds away, silently yet peacefully it tumbled softly over the mountains of air.

I straighten myself up, a serene smile playing on my lips, fingertips smoothing over the sheets of the bed, eyes never once straying from the pale face before me.

My back suddenly tenses as a sharp, familiar voice rings through the room, malice threading against her words.

"What do you think you're doing?"

____________

Double update for not updating in so long :(

I'm so sorry, it's just the assessments and homework are really getting to me I just can't find the time. I'm so stressed out and argh!

Hope you enjoyed it tho! <3