Accident
Now, why am I writing this? This is a figment of a past that's dead and gone. No. I was not sitting and brooding over it. The memory of this event forced its way back into my mind. All I did was take an old note book from my shelf to tear off the side of a page to write down a phone number being dictated to me by one of my friends over the phone. And what did I see? A familiar hand writing? Yes, it indeed was a familiar script. Something that she wrote on my book a couple of years back, sitting on her bed in her flat and me sitting on the floor at the other end of the bed. And it goes like this: I was observing your face suddenly I noticed those scars on your eye brow and cheek and my mind went back to that day when you were on my lap, you bleeding your head and face smeared in blood and you were groaning so badly. Suddenly I felt as if I wanted to hug you to my chest, keep you there forever so that you'd never be in any sort of danger. I love you so much XXXX, I don't kno