Of Broken Things and Paint Splatterings // Alex POV SNIPPETS

Here I am, on a Friday, with nothing to blog about.

So ya know, I'm just going to cheat all of y'all by not putting out actual content, and instead throw some snippets at y'all and call it a day. 

You're welcome. xxx

Before I throw these snippets at you, I thought I'd give a brief update: 

Currently, I am only writing from Alex's point of view, he's the only one I've been able to connect with so far, so yeah. After finishing his story, I plan on going back and working on Josh's and Piper's POV. But anyway, that's where I'm at right now with this. 

Also, I'm still fixing a lot of plotholes, so I cannot 100% ensure that all of these snippets will be in the final draft of this book. 

Okay, I'm done. Let's hand it over to Alex Anson:

I fight the urge to run. There’s three of them and one of me. Running would only be like a rabbit running from a pack of wolves, and I won’t give them the thrill of the chase. 

    I’m so lost in thought that I barely feel Ethan’s fist slam into my face. The world whirls around me as I stumble back, my foot catches on a rock, and I hit the ground, hard. There is an awful sound of my teeth hitting each other, the taste of salt and dust fill my mouth.

 And I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

I CAN’T BREATHE.

 Someone gasps, and I realize it was me. I’m hunched over, pulling at my hair, my phone clatters to the ground. 

“When will Mom get out?” I hear myself whisper.

Piper’s shoulders sag even more, “She’s in a coma, Alex, people wake up after a few days or weeks…years…” She trails off, glancing back at the sink.

“Sometimes never.” I finish for her.

“What are we going to do?”

I can’t answer her, I stumble into my room, locking the door. My throat keeps getting tighter and tighter, I fumble for my phone and earbuds. Collapsing on my bed, I turn the volume all the way up. Music blasts through my ears, it drowns out my thoughts, the world, the feeling of fear in my stomach. It pauses it all. It’s perfect.

 When something bad happens you always expect the world to stop and mourn with you, the sun shouldn’t be shining the day after a disaster, the sky should be grey, not blue.

Somehow, New Britain Connecticut missed this memo because I wake up to the sun shining down on my face, it’s so blindly bright, even with my eyes closed.

“Alex?” Piper’s voice is distant.

I stay still. Every morning I go through this, I don’t want to face the day, I don’t want to go to school, I don’t want to be here. Today the feeling is ten times worse.

“Alex.”

“Alex doesn’t exist,” I murmur, rolling over and burying my face in my pillow.

What did y'all think? *hides*

Happy Writing,