If You're Gone Read Online Free PDF

were falling. I was bundled in my thick brown winter jacket and topped off with a purple and blue striped scarf and hat set my grandmother had knitted for me a few winters back. I fiddled around in my jacket pocket for my gloves, but could only recover one.
    Nestling my left hand deep into my coat, I picked up my pace as I trudged down the street. My breath wasn't visible in the crisp air; the snowfall was too thick. Flakes clung to my eyelashes, and I batted my eyes to see through the falling white. My socks were wet inside my boots from traipsing through the dense snow, and my toes were tingling. When I saw my house in the distance I broke into a sprint across my front lawn. I was only a few paces from the front porch when my foot caught a snow-covered root, sending my body crashing to the ground. I let out a cry that was muffled by my face hitting a hard bank of snow.
    I held still, partially frozen and partially stunned. Spitting snow from my mouth, I tried to stand, but my right ankle sent sharp pains up my leg. I lowered myself back down and held in tears I was sure would freeze the moment they left their sockets. With a look to the dark, empty house I knew I'd receive no help from my parents. They had taken Graham and Eliza on a weekend trip and weren't able to return home in the storm. I reached into the pocket of my snow pants for my key, but it was empty. Panicking, I felt around in the powder where I sat, knowing the key must have slipped out when I fell. A warm tear slid down my face as the snow fell harder and a gust of wind whipped the flakes across my skin.
    Suddenly, I heard a crunch behind me and craned my neck to see a dark figure tramping through the yard in my direction.
    “Hello!” I cried out, both frightened and relieved.
    “Lillian?” a deep voice said, sending a shiver down my back.
    Before I could say anything, a hand firmly grasped my arm. I grew frightened and tried to pull away as I imagined whom the voice might belong to. I tried to peer through the falling snow at the person beside me, but snowflakes blew into my eyes. I raised my gloved hand and brushed the wet hair away from my face. When I recognized the figure that stood in front of me, I gasped.
    It was Brad, my middle school tormentor. His dirty blond locks fell in his eyes, glittered with flakes of snow. My throat dropped into my stomach and despite the cold, my face suddenly felt warm.
    “I saw you fall, what hurts?” he asked, his piercing blue eyes staring into mine.
    “I’m fine, I don’t need any help.” I kept my gaze locked with his, desperate to appear strong. I attempted to pull away from his grasp, remembering how he had treated me when we were younger. He laughed.
    “Lillian, you’re obviously hurt. Just let me help you inside.”
    He was persistent, and I was surprised by the kindness in his voice but didn’t want to give in. I thought back to when I had first met Brad. I was in fifth grade and my parents encouraged me to become friends with him when his family moved in down the street. He was cute and seemed more mature than other guys my age, so I didn’t argue. But much to my dismay, he denied my friendship and instead bullied and terrorized me on the playground, in the lunchroom, and in the hallways of the school. When I expressed my anger to my mother she had laughed, telling me he must have a crush on me. But before that theory was ever proven, Brad had lost interest in torturing me and moved on to harassing the entire neighborhood with his delinquent group of friends.
    Once we entered high school he had become what most girls considered a total hottie, with broad, muscular shoulders and a chiseled jaw that was accentuated by his long, tousled blond hair. But there was always a look in his deep, blue eyes I didn’t understand. Although we didn’t speak, I would catch him staring at me sometimes and always wondered if he was contemplating apologizing for making my middle school years a nightmare. To this