In Memory Read Online Free Page A

stuff like that.
    The teacher of the class, Ruth, reminded me of the stereotypical kind old woman. Her hair was thick and snow white, and was piled on top of her head in thick curls. She smelled of cookies.
    All the ladies liked me very much I think. I could tell they were the kind of… frisky types.
    Since it was so hot today, I opted to wear a white muscle shirt to deflect some of the sun, which appare ntly they liked rather a lot. W as getting some boxes from the top shelves when I first noticed the group of redheads, Bethie , Mary, and Marian, all giggling behind their wrinkly hands.
    C ouldn’t help but blush when I figured out they were… checking me out. Old ladies! Really! I find this pretty funny now, but I was genuinely embarrassed earlier.
    Those old ladies. Geez .
    After being looked up and down by them for a while, I finally asked lightly what they were looking at.
    “Well, you, of course.” Bethie replied unblushingly, “Have you ever considered modelling, dear?”
    I have never considered it in m y life. T old them so, and they all tittered in appreciation.
    G uess I’m okay, looks-wise. I’m not someone who makes babies cry or anything. I’m pretty tall, I’ve heard that’s a good thing. But I’m not really in shape, I don’t have amazing abs or crazy awesome biceps. Honestly, I’m pretty average.
    I think my best feature is my eyes. I like my eyes.
    Apparently, according to Bethie , my best feature is my ass.
    Her telling me this was the most embarrassing part of today for me.
    The best part was the pretty big wad of cash from the ladies for helping them. I restocked the whole kitchen with it.
    At least I had an amusing day. Terra had to work really late, so I’m waiting up for her.
    But I’m falling asleep just sitting here… jus _t sleep
     
    168 Days, 12 September, Friday
    No time to write today. Emergency, I’m at the hospital.
     
    167 Days, 13 September, Saturday
    I sighed, rolling over and glancing at the alarm clock with my book laid open on my chest.
    1 0 :36 P m
    It changed to 1 0 :37 as I looked at it, seeming more significant than usual. That was a whole minute of my life, idly spent reading a book I had read several times before. It brings to mind the quote ‘Live life to the fullest and enjoy every minute.’
    D on’t know who said it, and I probably got the words wrong, but either way, it’s impossible. In order for me to live life to the fullest is to not enjoy every minute. Enjoying every minute takes meaning out of them. In order to truly appreciate the joyous moments in life, we must embrace the painful ones and keep them in memory.
    1 0 :43 P m
    I heaved myself out of bed, meandering out of my room and downstairs. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard a scuffling sound just outside the door. Figuring Terra was home and couldn’t get the door open , (the lock sticks) I opened it .
    The person standing in front of me was very clearly not my sister.
    It was Noah.
    H adn’t seen him for about two weeks (estimation) and yet here he stood, effectively taking the breath right out of me by his appearance. His shoulder-length black hair was matted and tangled, jostled every now and then by his trem bling shoulders. C ould see deep cuts on his hands and forearms where his shirt was torn. These same cuts streaked around his chest and –alarmingly- his neck. He wasn’t wearing shoes.
    I swallowed, managing a small sound.
    This made him look up at me, his immense icy eyes inherently pleading with me in the centre of his damaged face. His beautiful face.
    R eminded me of a flower, crushed by someone’s boot.
    Bruises coloured his otherwise paper white skin, each one seeming to intensify in saturation as my gaze passed over them. They were especially dark around his left eye, the one he’s blind in. Dried blood lined his face in smudged cracking patterns. His lips were plump and swollen, bleeding from a split on the bottom. Shakily, they parted, and his voice slithered