“Please leave a message after the tone.”
I hung up the phone. I couldn"t breathe.
“Seven years,” I breathed.
It wasn"t him.
“Seven years.” I rubbed the stress from my eyes.
For seven years, my heart had been cold. I thought of Isaiah and pined. I ached to see him again. For seven years, a hand twisted its cold dead fingers around my heart and squeezed the love out of me. For every year that slipped by, it tightened its hold on me. I had grown used to it. For seven years it had been there suffocating me. I couldn"t breathe. I couldn"t feel…until that day.
I felt my heart writhe in its grip, unable to beat under the strain, and at last, I snapped. Something inside me surrendered and I couldn"t keep it in any longer. The phone slipped from my hands. My chest burned, and I wanted to cut
