42
~Lisa's POV
After Belinda left the clinic, the room felt colder.
Her cruel words kept replaying in my head like a broken song.
"If you want to die... do it right next time."
I stared at the ceiling, blinking back more tears, but it was no use. They came anyway, hot and heavy, soaking my pillow just like before.
I turned slowly on the small bed, careful not to pull the bandage on my arm. The pain was still there, but it wasn't as loud as the ache inside my chest.
I missed my dad.
So, so much.
I closed my eyes and tried to picture his face. His warm smile. His rough hands always held mine when I was scared. The way he used to sing to me softly at night, even when he was tired from work.
He was the only one who ever truly loved me.
He didn't care that I was human. He didn't care that I was small, or weak, or quiet.
To him, I was enough.
And I left him behind.
