- S U T T E R -
11.18.16 // 4:15 p.m.
Blaire is standing in the field, right by the park bench where we had our first date. She has on a knee-length sunflower dress and she twirls around in a circle as a smile flashes across her face.
Her curly hair falls down her slender shoulders, dark chestnut-brown again tan-kissed skin. She looked lovely, absolutely breath-taking.
"Sutter," she says, her voice sounding like soft silk in my ears. "Sutter, honey." I try to talk, but no words come out of my mouth. "Sutter, wake up."
Someone is tapping my shoulder and when I turn around, Blaire is standing there with blood-soaked hair and tears running down her face. A grotesque mask of sadness and pain flashed across her now pale skin. My heartbeat picks up and I reach out to touch her, but my
