Diana
"Hi," a voice said behind me.
I turned around. It was her. I sighed inwardly.
"Hi," I answered in reply. I tried to smile but could only manage to half-heartedly bare my teeth. Not exactly the warmest of welcomes. She didn't seem to notice, though.
"Mind if I join you?" she asked.
"No, not at all," I replied, but the hesitation in my voice was apparent even to myself.
She slid into the seat opposite mine anyway, oblivious (or perhaps not) to the unspoken cues that I was giving.
I sipped my coffee silently, not looking at her. Maybe it was chatter that she wanted, but it was silence that she was going to get. I wasn't going to pretend to be friendly, not today, not with her.
"Can I ask you a direct question?"
I looked up. She was staring at me intently, as if trying to figure something out.
I shrugged. "Sure."
"You love him, don't you?"
I was taken aback. Now THAT was a question I hadn't been expecting.
I feigned ignorance. "What are you talking about? Love who?"
"Come on, don't act dumb. You know who. James." Her eyes held an expression that I could not name. It wasn't anger, but it certainly wasn't nonchalance either.
I opened my mouth in protest but she must have anticipated my reaction and cut me off before I could say a word.
"Every time he comes into the room, your eyes light up. And every time I try to approach you, I sense a hidden envy. And you've been morose ever since you humiliated him. A very unusual reaction, I must say. Every time someone mentions his name or the incident you look guilty and regretful."
"But that doesn't mean...."
She held up her hand to cut me off again. "Whatever you're going to say, look into my eyes before you say it."
I took a deep breath, then raised my eyes to meet hers. There was a long pause. Then I said simply, "Yes, I do."
She leaned back and gave a wry smile. "Thanks for being honest."
I looked down at my coffee, not knowing what else to say.
"He loves you too, you know."
I snapped my head back up, stunned.
"How do you...?"
"His eyes light up when YOU enter the room, not me. He talks about you all the time, even when he's talking with me. Back when the two of you were still talking to each other, he spent more time with YOU than he did with ME. And ever since you two fought, he's been feeling depressed and guilty too, just like you. And even though we're sort of together, I can sense the distance between the two of us that I don't sense when I see the two of you together. Above all, the simple fact is that he, like you, is a bad liar."
"But he told me..."
"I know what he told you. He lied."
"Then why...?"
"His father. My father is his father's primary financial supporter. You know James. You know the loyalty he has to his family. I think he even tried to convince himself that he loved me. But I knew better."
I stared at her for a while in disbelief. But she was being completely serious, and I knew she was telling me the truth, or at least what she believed was the truth.
"Why now?" I asked simply.
"Because he's leaving tomorrow."
"WHAT???"
"He's leaving tomorrow," she repeated. "You know where. He'll be gone for almost a year."
The news completely overwhelmed me. I struggled to comprehend, to process what was happening in my mind. I opened my mouth once or twice but no words came out.
"And just in case you're wondering, I'm not mad. I love him, but I know that I'm not right for him. You are." With that said, she stood up abruptly, turned, and walked away, but I could have sworn that I saw a silent tear roll down her cheek.
And all I felt inside was turmoil.
Thursday 28 February 2008
Wednesday 20 February 2008
Confrontation
*This is Angela's meeting with Marshall at the end of the story.
Angela
I could feel my face starting to heat up, I could hear my heartbeat picking up pace. My palms were cold and I think I may have just lost my ability to form words. The topic of our conversation wasn't exactly my forte.
"Let's settle this once and for all," he declared. I could sense the frustration boiling up in his voice, he was getting impatient.
I just shook my head gently, I didn't know what else to say or do. I was already reaching for my bag, ready to make a run for it.
Just as I turned my back on him, he stood up from where he was sitting. With one swift move, he managed to wrap his fingers around my hand, preventing me from making my getaway.
"Please," was all he murmured, his voice barely audible.
I stared at my feet, trying my best not to make any eye contact with him.
"What are you so afraid of?" he asked. I just shrugged. I had the answer to his question in my head, and I wasn't planning on sharing it with the world. Not yet, anyway.
It was as if time had frozen the two of us in our positions. We stood a foot away from each other, my hand was still in his. It felt nice like that and I secretly wished he would never let go. I quickly banished the thought just as it surfaced in my stream of consciousness. What on earth are you thinking? I almost yelled out loud. I gave myself a subconscious whack in the head.
I could tell he wasn't about to give up, his eyes were still searching my face for answers.
"Okay, I see you're not going to budge," he loosened his fingers and released my hand from his grip. "You were always the stubborn one," he continued. I looked up from my feet and gave his face a quick glance, his face was unreadable but his eyes looked defeated.
Oh, that done it. That very look did the trick. Is this reverse psychology or what?
"You," Someone who had a voice very similar to mine mumbled. That couldn't be me, right? Oh crap, I think it is me.
"What?" he sounded surprised to hear me speak too.
"Of you. You asked me what I was afraid of, and it's you," Nothing stopped the voice now. It was going on a roll and I couldn't contain it!
The defeated look in his eyes was now replaced with one of hurt.
"But, why?"
I didn't want to go on, but I couldn't possibly leave it at that. I sighed. He needed to know the whole truth.
"Well, because.. because I just do," I said. Oops, that didn't come out quite right. I'm horrendously bad at this, bad at discussing feelings of this sort. Honestly, I like being on the sidelines more. I was usually the one people came to when they needed a listening ear, I'd take being a listener any day of the week. I sighed inwardly. I really wasn't feeling this role reversal thing. I stared at him, praying that he got the unspoken message anyway.
Maybe he knew I didn't mean it like that, maybe he could sense the uncertainty in my quivering voice when I said those words to him. He seemed to have understood well enough because the mood somehow lightened up a bit. Before long, his lips were pulled into a smile, and I found myself grinning back easily.
Again, there was silence between us. Only this time, it wasn't of the awkward sort. It just seemed natural, until he decided to break it.
"I like you," he blurted out. Although there was no indication that he let the information slip unintentionally. Maybe he had rehearsed it all?
Oh no... did he just say what I think he just said?
"Excuse me?" I managed to mutter. I'm surprised I haven't started fleeing yet.
"I like you, I like you a lot, I have ever since..." his voice trailed, "I'm-not-sure-when.. but that's not the point," he ran his fingers through his hair, frustration creeping up his face. He didn't look quite like his usual self right then. He actually seemed.. nervous.
Watching him fret was pretty amusing, I was kind of enjoying it. It wasn't everyday I see a usually self-assured guy have a little anxiety attack right in front of me.
"The point is...," He looked up, that's when his eyes and mine met. He saw that I was smiling at him and decided to stray from the topic, "And what are you grinning at?"
I shook my head and smiled some more.
"I'm standing here... pouring my heart out to you and all you do is smile that goofy grin of yours?" he said, I knew he was teasing me.
"Well, what else do you propose me do? Break down and start sobbing uncontrallably?" I asked in return, my tone was that of a joking one. I even faked an unconvincing laugh to accompany my lame attempt at the joke. Although I'm beginning to sense that this really didn't seem the best of times to crack a funny line.
He didn't laugh along with me, much to my despair. He just looked at me with those impenetrable eyes of his. I groaned. I hated it when I couldn't read him.
"Hey, that was pretty fun-," I started defensively, but never got to finish the sentence. Before I even saw it coming, I found myself wrapped tightly in his arms. That little gesture took me by surprise. The smell of his freshly laundered shirt, coupled with his familiar clean boyish scent lingered on in my mind. I felt strangely at ease, just standing there with my head on his shoulders. I won't lie, there were butterflies swarming about my insides and my heartbeat was missing a skip or two.
Oddly enough, I didn't seem to mind them one bit.
"Of course I don't want you to cry, you goof," he laughed. I felt his fingers caressing my hair gently. "Hugging me back would be preferable," Upon hearing what he said, I smiled despite myself.
"You know? For someone who claims that she's scared of yours truly here, you don't look like you're in a state of horror right now," he teased some more.
"Oh?" I pushed away and looked up at him.
"Who said I wasn't scared, still?" I challenged.
He pinched my nose lightly and said, "Well, I can safely assume that you don't exactly hold onto people you deem frightful quite as tightly, do you?"
Incredulous! How could.. how could he read me like an open book? I immediately pulled away from him and crossed my arms defensively.
"Come on, I was kidding, you know I was,"
"Now please enlighten me, why do I scare you so much?" he asked with a quizzical expression plastered on his face.
"You really don't know, do you?" I asked in disbelief. Was he really that dumb? I heard a dark laughter sound deep inside me. Or was he just faking it? A smirk playing on my lips. I think the latter seemed more believable.
"Would I ask you if I knew the answer?" he tilted his head and looked me straight in the eyes, sounding a little cocky again.
I stared right back, something I wouldn't normally do under the circumstances. Where did this rush of courage come from? Maybe it was the excess adrenaline? Weird how the human body works huh?
"Okay, you sure you want to know? I mean, we can talk about something else you know?" I asked, rhetorically. I was stalling for time, trying my best to somehow change the topic. Yeah right, I wish it was that easy to get out of this conversation.
My plan clearly wasn't working. He seemed to know me well enough.
He strategically placed his hands on the wall, cornering me into the confinements of his arms. We were standing close enough, but barely touching at all.
Tense, much?
"Just tell me.. I promise I won't cry," he winked at me coyly.
"Alright," I whispered. I guess I might as well come clean this time... Or else I'll never get to leave in one piece!
"I'm scared of you," I started, my eyes darting from his eyes to something irrelevant in the distance, "Because you make me feel like I'm not me anymore when I'm with you," I muttered. "It's like I can't control what and how I feel.. like my emotions aren't even mine,"
"What scares the living daylights out of me is that I can't seem to not think about you, how every little thing I come across seems to remind me of you," I took a deep breath and went on, "And the fact that my heart and my brain can no longer cooperate with me anymore,"
"But I guess.. what frightens me most is losing you," I kicked at an invisible rock by my feet. "Though I never exactly had you in the first place, per se," I uttered under my breath.
"I..." I shuffled my feet and glanced at him, "What I'm trying to say is that, I think I.. kind of.. maybe.. like you, as more than just a friend,"
There! I said it! I said it all! Happy now?
I felt my ears turn red as I finished up my super long and winding award winning speech. Letting it all out was a relief, I was breathing easy once more. With nothing else left to do, I began admiring my shoes again.
He tilted my chin, and I found myself staring into his eyes for the umpteenth time today. Crap, I think I'm blushing.. he never fails to do that to me.
"What a coincidence," he beamed.
"I feel the exact same way too," he whispered into my ear and I caught a glimpse of his smiling eyes.
-Rachel-
Angela
I could feel my face starting to heat up, I could hear my heartbeat picking up pace. My palms were cold and I think I may have just lost my ability to form words. The topic of our conversation wasn't exactly my forte.
"Let's settle this once and for all," he declared. I could sense the frustration boiling up in his voice, he was getting impatient.
I just shook my head gently, I didn't know what else to say or do. I was already reaching for my bag, ready to make a run for it.
Just as I turned my back on him, he stood up from where he was sitting. With one swift move, he managed to wrap his fingers around my hand, preventing me from making my getaway.
"Please," was all he murmured, his voice barely audible.
I stared at my feet, trying my best not to make any eye contact with him.
"What are you so afraid of?" he asked. I just shrugged. I had the answer to his question in my head, and I wasn't planning on sharing it with the world. Not yet, anyway.
It was as if time had frozen the two of us in our positions. We stood a foot away from each other, my hand was still in his. It felt nice like that and I secretly wished he would never let go. I quickly banished the thought just as it surfaced in my stream of consciousness. What on earth are you thinking? I almost yelled out loud. I gave myself a subconscious whack in the head.
I could tell he wasn't about to give up, his eyes were still searching my face for answers.
"Okay, I see you're not going to budge," he loosened his fingers and released my hand from his grip. "You were always the stubborn one," he continued. I looked up from my feet and gave his face a quick glance, his face was unreadable but his eyes looked defeated.
Oh, that done it. That very look did the trick. Is this reverse psychology or what?
"You," Someone who had a voice very similar to mine mumbled. That couldn't be me, right? Oh crap, I think it is me.
"What?" he sounded surprised to hear me speak too.
"Of you. You asked me what I was afraid of, and it's you," Nothing stopped the voice now. It was going on a roll and I couldn't contain it!
The defeated look in his eyes was now replaced with one of hurt.
"But, why?"
I didn't want to go on, but I couldn't possibly leave it at that. I sighed. He needed to know the whole truth.
"Well, because.. because I just do," I said. Oops, that didn't come out quite right. I'm horrendously bad at this, bad at discussing feelings of this sort. Honestly, I like being on the sidelines more. I was usually the one people came to when they needed a listening ear, I'd take being a listener any day of the week. I sighed inwardly. I really wasn't feeling this role reversal thing. I stared at him, praying that he got the unspoken message anyway.
Maybe he knew I didn't mean it like that, maybe he could sense the uncertainty in my quivering voice when I said those words to him. He seemed to have understood well enough because the mood somehow lightened up a bit. Before long, his lips were pulled into a smile, and I found myself grinning back easily.
Again, there was silence between us. Only this time, it wasn't of the awkward sort. It just seemed natural, until he decided to break it.
"I like you," he blurted out. Although there was no indication that he let the information slip unintentionally. Maybe he had rehearsed it all?
Oh no... did he just say what I think he just said?
"Excuse me?" I managed to mutter. I'm surprised I haven't started fleeing yet.
"I like you, I like you a lot, I have ever since..." his voice trailed, "I'm-not-sure-when.. but that's not the point," he ran his fingers through his hair, frustration creeping up his face. He didn't look quite like his usual self right then. He actually seemed.. nervous.
Watching him fret was pretty amusing, I was kind of enjoying it. It wasn't everyday I see a usually self-assured guy have a little anxiety attack right in front of me.
"The point is...," He looked up, that's when his eyes and mine met. He saw that I was smiling at him and decided to stray from the topic, "And what are you grinning at?"
I shook my head and smiled some more.
"I'm standing here... pouring my heart out to you and all you do is smile that goofy grin of yours?" he said, I knew he was teasing me.
"Well, what else do you propose me do? Break down and start sobbing uncontrallably?" I asked in return, my tone was that of a joking one. I even faked an unconvincing laugh to accompany my lame attempt at the joke. Although I'm beginning to sense that this really didn't seem the best of times to crack a funny line.
He didn't laugh along with me, much to my despair. He just looked at me with those impenetrable eyes of his. I groaned. I hated it when I couldn't read him.
"Hey, that was pretty fun-," I started defensively, but never got to finish the sentence. Before I even saw it coming, I found myself wrapped tightly in his arms. That little gesture took me by surprise. The smell of his freshly laundered shirt, coupled with his familiar clean boyish scent lingered on in my mind. I felt strangely at ease, just standing there with my head on his shoulders. I won't lie, there were butterflies swarming about my insides and my heartbeat was missing a skip or two.
Oddly enough, I didn't seem to mind them one bit.
"Of course I don't want you to cry, you goof," he laughed. I felt his fingers caressing my hair gently. "Hugging me back would be preferable," Upon hearing what he said, I smiled despite myself.
"You know? For someone who claims that she's scared of yours truly here, you don't look like you're in a state of horror right now," he teased some more.
"Oh?" I pushed away and looked up at him.
"Who said I wasn't scared, still?" I challenged.
He pinched my nose lightly and said, "Well, I can safely assume that you don't exactly hold onto people you deem frightful quite as tightly, do you?"
Incredulous! How could.. how could he read me like an open book? I immediately pulled away from him and crossed my arms defensively.
"Come on, I was kidding, you know I was,"
"Now please enlighten me, why do I scare you so much?" he asked with a quizzical expression plastered on his face.
"You really don't know, do you?" I asked in disbelief. Was he really that dumb? I heard a dark laughter sound deep inside me. Or was he just faking it? A smirk playing on my lips. I think the latter seemed more believable.
"Would I ask you if I knew the answer?" he tilted his head and looked me straight in the eyes, sounding a little cocky again.
I stared right back, something I wouldn't normally do under the circumstances. Where did this rush of courage come from? Maybe it was the excess adrenaline? Weird how the human body works huh?
"Okay, you sure you want to know? I mean, we can talk about something else you know?" I asked, rhetorically. I was stalling for time, trying my best to somehow change the topic. Yeah right, I wish it was that easy to get out of this conversation.
My plan clearly wasn't working. He seemed to know me well enough.
He strategically placed his hands on the wall, cornering me into the confinements of his arms. We were standing close enough, but barely touching at all.
Tense, much?
"Just tell me.. I promise I won't cry," he winked at me coyly.
"Alright," I whispered. I guess I might as well come clean this time... Or else I'll never get to leave in one piece!
"I'm scared of you," I started, my eyes darting from his eyes to something irrelevant in the distance, "Because you make me feel like I'm not me anymore when I'm with you," I muttered. "It's like I can't control what and how I feel.. like my emotions aren't even mine,"
"What scares the living daylights out of me is that I can't seem to not think about you, how every little thing I come across seems to remind me of you," I took a deep breath and went on, "And the fact that my heart and my brain can no longer cooperate with me anymore,"
"But I guess.. what frightens me most is losing you," I kicked at an invisible rock by my feet. "Though I never exactly had you in the first place, per se," I uttered under my breath.
"I..." I shuffled my feet and glanced at him, "What I'm trying to say is that, I think I.. kind of.. maybe.. like you, as more than just a friend,"
There! I said it! I said it all! Happy now?
I felt my ears turn red as I finished up my super long and winding award winning speech. Letting it all out was a relief, I was breathing easy once more. With nothing else left to do, I began admiring my shoes again.
He tilted my chin, and I found myself staring into his eyes for the umpteenth time today. Crap, I think I'm blushing.. he never fails to do that to me.
"What a coincidence," he beamed.
"I feel the exact same way too," he whispered into my ear and I caught a glimpse of his smiling eyes.
-Rachel-
Vengeance?
Diana
I spotted him the moment he entered the hall. He was alone, as usual, with a serious, troubled look on his face. Momentarily I wondered what he was troubled about, but I immediately pushed that thought from my mind. I didn't care. No, I didn't WANT to care.
He looked around as though searching for someone. Angela, probably. As his eyes roved in my direction I looked away, afraid that my eyes would betray me. But he didn't see me, and he walked on towards his locker.
I was breathless with anticipation. I couldn't wait to see him hurt. To see him hurt and humiliated, the way he had hurt me. Now he would pay. Now he would regret calling me those names. My heart was on fire with anger. Strangely, though, there was a sick feeling in my gut that I could not understand. Almost a revulsion at what was going to happen. But I suppressed it as best as I could. I wanted to enjoy this. The way HE had enjoyed what he did.
He opened his locker and looked in. Then he froze, his mouth open in surprise and revulsion. I saw the nameless, inexplicable fear take him over and he screamed. Then he slammed the locker door and turned around.
The entire hallway was looking at him. He stood rooted to the ground, with a sickly pale expression on his face. I could see the fear etched into his eyes. Then his face became flaming red and he ran out of the hall.
The hallway broke out in derisive laughter. I heard the word "wimp" used liberally and scornfully. Nobody cared, he was almost an outcast anyway. Less then human in their eyes. He would never live this down.
My plan had succeeded exactly as I had anticipated it to. I had hurt him and humiliated him. More so, I had done it in public, precisely where I knew it would hurt him the most. I had achieved my goal.
I searched my emotions for the satisfaction and exultation I thought I would feel at the success of my plans. But to my surprise those emotions eluded me. All I felt was the sick feeling that had solidified in my gut and which I could no longer ignore. Even the anger that I had felt towards him was gone.
Realization dawned on me regarding what I had just done. I had acted spitefully, out of anger. Precisely what I had promised myself never again to do. The image of his eyes, wild in fear, seared itself into my mind. I had hurt him deeply. Him. And he doubtless knew that the perpetrator was me, for only I had known about the inexplicable fear he has towards those...things.
I realized then that I still loved him deeply. They say that you hurt the most those whom you love the most, and that was precisely what I had done. I had not made things better, only worse. Now he would never come close to me again.
I crept into the girl's bathroom and into a cubicle, locking the door behind me. Then I buried my head in my arms and wept as guilt and grief overcame me.
" I'm sorry, James," I whispered softly, as tears ran freely down my cheeks.
I spotted him the moment he entered the hall. He was alone, as usual, with a serious, troubled look on his face. Momentarily I wondered what he was troubled about, but I immediately pushed that thought from my mind. I didn't care. No, I didn't WANT to care.
He looked around as though searching for someone. Angela, probably. As his eyes roved in my direction I looked away, afraid that my eyes would betray me. But he didn't see me, and he walked on towards his locker.
I was breathless with anticipation. I couldn't wait to see him hurt. To see him hurt and humiliated, the way he had hurt me. Now he would pay. Now he would regret calling me those names. My heart was on fire with anger. Strangely, though, there was a sick feeling in my gut that I could not understand. Almost a revulsion at what was going to happen. But I suppressed it as best as I could. I wanted to enjoy this. The way HE had enjoyed what he did.
He opened his locker and looked in. Then he froze, his mouth open in surprise and revulsion. I saw the nameless, inexplicable fear take him over and he screamed. Then he slammed the locker door and turned around.
The entire hallway was looking at him. He stood rooted to the ground, with a sickly pale expression on his face. I could see the fear etched into his eyes. Then his face became flaming red and he ran out of the hall.
The hallway broke out in derisive laughter. I heard the word "wimp" used liberally and scornfully. Nobody cared, he was almost an outcast anyway. Less then human in their eyes. He would never live this down.
My plan had succeeded exactly as I had anticipated it to. I had hurt him and humiliated him. More so, I had done it in public, precisely where I knew it would hurt him the most. I had achieved my goal.
I searched my emotions for the satisfaction and exultation I thought I would feel at the success of my plans. But to my surprise those emotions eluded me. All I felt was the sick feeling that had solidified in my gut and which I could no longer ignore. Even the anger that I had felt towards him was gone.
Realization dawned on me regarding what I had just done. I had acted spitefully, out of anger. Precisely what I had promised myself never again to do. The image of his eyes, wild in fear, seared itself into my mind. I had hurt him deeply. Him. And he doubtless knew that the perpetrator was me, for only I had known about the inexplicable fear he has towards those...things.
I realized then that I still loved him deeply. They say that you hurt the most those whom you love the most, and that was precisely what I had done. I had not made things better, only worse. Now he would never come close to me again.
I crept into the girl's bathroom and into a cubicle, locking the door behind me. Then I buried my head in my arms and wept as guilt and grief overcame me.
" I'm sorry, James," I whispered softly, as tears ran freely down my cheeks.
Guilty as charged
James
I slam the door behind me and wipe the fake smirk from my face. Already I miss her. I miss the way she lights up my life with her antics. I cannot help myself. I'll never forgive myself for hurting her, to keep her away from me. And father. Why did it have to be her? Anyone else, just not her. My heart sours as I recall how devastated she looked. Guilty as charged, I suppose. A part of me yearns to believe that she never meant to harm father's political campaign. My heart tells me so, but father claims otherwise. And father's always right.
I feel dead inside. I need her. I want her. I love her. Yes, no doubt about it. I am in love with a girl I cannot have, and I am with another girl - a girl I think I love. I have no desire to hurt either, and that, should be love enough. But if I truly search my own desires, I know who I'd rather be with. The one unattainable. Unattainable for ties of loyalty.
But no. I must protect father, whatever the cost. Whatever. The. Cost.
***
I trudged down the hallway, unconsciously hoping to catch just a glimpse of her. Every nerve in me willed me to apologize, to see that forgiving smile etched across her face again. My heart was so heavy that I felt my legs turn to lead. The damage I'd done was irreparable. She would never forgive me again. Maybe it was best that things were left as they were. Maybe that throbbing ache I felt would gradually numb. After all, time heals all things.
I opened my locker unseeingly, mechanically. Everything was routine. A routine meaningless, now that she was out of my life.
A movement caught my eye. I blinked and focused.
And screamed. And slammed the locker door shut. I found my hands trembling, sweat forming profusely on my forehead. There was a sudden silence all around, and I could feel a hundred pairs of eyes burning into my back.
After what seemed like an eternity, I ran. The feeling of humiliation seared itself into my heart. A bright red, burning scar.
***
I slumped against the wall of the toilet cubicle, trying to steady my ragged breaths.
'Truth or dare,' She smirked.
'Truth,' I had nothing to hide.
'No fun. I know almost everything about you. Wait a minute.'
She had that mischievous glint in her eyes again. The sunlight touched her face, illuminating her features. She looked radiant, the inner light she possessed shining through. I felt a sudden urge to toy with her hair, but held back. I was getting more and more of these silly, queer urges nowadays.
'Tell me, are you afraid of anything? Any animal? Any object?'
I was caught unawares.
' Aha! You ARE afraid of something. The truth, mister, and nothing but the truth. Someone's not so manly anymore, huh?'
I saw that little boy again in my mind's eye. That tear-streaked, grubby face, distraught at Shadow's death.
'Mummy, where's Shadow? Is he coming back? Ever?'
'Shh, honey, he's in heaven now. God's taking care of him. God loves him as much as you do. Don't you worry, precious.'
But sissy said otherwise. Sissy said Shadow was still in the backyard, underneath the big, old tree. That little boy believed her. He wanted Shadow back. Shadow was his only friend. He missed Shadow.
So he dug Shadow up.
THEY'RE EATING HIM! Traumatized and disorientated, the little boy fled to his bedroom, buried his face in his pillow and blubbered incoherently. The nightmares would haunt him from that day onwards until he grew much older. But the fear never left. And nobody ever found out. Not even sissy. Shadow's carcass was found and reburied, but nothing more was said of that day.
Now, sworn to secrecy, she knew.
And only she could have engineered this plan. A dark, gloomy cloud hung over my head. So this was how far it had gone. I didn't feel angry at her. I deserved it. I wanted to punish myself.
I deserved it.
I slam the door behind me and wipe the fake smirk from my face. Already I miss her. I miss the way she lights up my life with her antics. I cannot help myself. I'll never forgive myself for hurting her, to keep her away from me. And father. Why did it have to be her? Anyone else, just not her. My heart sours as I recall how devastated she looked. Guilty as charged, I suppose. A part of me yearns to believe that she never meant to harm father's political campaign. My heart tells me so, but father claims otherwise. And father's always right.
I feel dead inside. I need her. I want her. I love her. Yes, no doubt about it. I am in love with a girl I cannot have, and I am with another girl - a girl I think I love. I have no desire to hurt either, and that, should be love enough. But if I truly search my own desires, I know who I'd rather be with. The one unattainable. Unattainable for ties of loyalty.
But no. I must protect father, whatever the cost. Whatever. The. Cost.
***
I trudged down the hallway, unconsciously hoping to catch just a glimpse of her. Every nerve in me willed me to apologize, to see that forgiving smile etched across her face again. My heart was so heavy that I felt my legs turn to lead. The damage I'd done was irreparable. She would never forgive me again. Maybe it was best that things were left as they were. Maybe that throbbing ache I felt would gradually numb. After all, time heals all things.
I opened my locker unseeingly, mechanically. Everything was routine. A routine meaningless, now that she was out of my life.
A movement caught my eye. I blinked and focused.
And screamed. And slammed the locker door shut. I found my hands trembling, sweat forming profusely on my forehead. There was a sudden silence all around, and I could feel a hundred pairs of eyes burning into my back.
After what seemed like an eternity, I ran. The feeling of humiliation seared itself into my heart. A bright red, burning scar.
***
I slumped against the wall of the toilet cubicle, trying to steady my ragged breaths.
'Truth or dare,' She smirked.
'Truth,' I had nothing to hide.
'No fun. I know almost everything about you. Wait a minute.'
She had that mischievous glint in her eyes again. The sunlight touched her face, illuminating her features. She looked radiant, the inner light she possessed shining through. I felt a sudden urge to toy with her hair, but held back. I was getting more and more of these silly, queer urges nowadays.
'Tell me, are you afraid of anything? Any animal? Any object?'
I was caught unawares.
' Aha! You ARE afraid of something. The truth, mister, and nothing but the truth. Someone's not so manly anymore, huh?'
I saw that little boy again in my mind's eye. That tear-streaked, grubby face, distraught at Shadow's death.
'Mummy, where's Shadow? Is he coming back? Ever?'
'Shh, honey, he's in heaven now. God's taking care of him. God loves him as much as you do. Don't you worry, precious.'
But sissy said otherwise. Sissy said Shadow was still in the backyard, underneath the big, old tree. That little boy believed her. He wanted Shadow back. Shadow was his only friend. He missed Shadow.
So he dug Shadow up.
THEY'RE EATING HIM! Traumatized and disorientated, the little boy fled to his bedroom, buried his face in his pillow and blubbered incoherently. The nightmares would haunt him from that day onwards until he grew much older. But the fear never left. And nobody ever found out. Not even sissy. Shadow's carcass was found and reburied, but nothing more was said of that day.
Now, sworn to secrecy, she knew.
And only she could have engineered this plan. A dark, gloomy cloud hung over my head. So this was how far it had gone. I didn't feel angry at her. I deserved it. I wanted to punish myself.
I deserved it.
Tuesday 19 February 2008
Betrayal
James
"What have I gone and done this time?" I thought to myself as I stood in front the gates of hell. I combed through my memory, searching for an inkling as to what I might have done that would grant me this lovely meeting out of the blue. 'Come see me. I will expect you in my study before dinner. Be on time.' The 'invitation note' that I received wasn't very inviting. Nor did it give away any clues as to what I was in for.
I took a deep breath and decided to get it over with. I couldn't avoid him even if I decided to flee the country. I knocked reluctantly on the door, I wasn't exactly in the best of moods to see the person on the other side.
"Come in," I heard his voice echo through the thick slab of wood that separated us, for now.
I turned the doorknob and walked in gingerly.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" I asked the man dressed in an expensive tailored suit. He was standing in front of a roaring fireplace, with a glass of whiskey already in hand. He set the glass down and came to greet me.
"Ah, James," the man exclaimed as he extended his right hand to me, I shook it. No hugs, no pats on the back, no "Welcome back! How are you doing, son?", just a formal handshake. I wonder how many fathers greet their sons with such formality.
"I need to discuss something rather important with you, James," he sat himself down in an armchair and motioned for me to do the same.
The man hadn't changed one bit, everything was still all business to him. Never sparing a minute for anything else.
"I hear that you've been spending a lot of time with a new girl?" he probed and continued, "Diana? Or was it Donna?"
"Diana," I corrected him automatically. "What about her?" my tone was that of a defensive one.
I was getting anxious, I didn't like the direction this conversation was going. Why were we even talking about her? I may not have the best intuition in town, but my gut could forefeel bad news.
"Well, son.." he began, "I'd rather you not spend so much time with her."
Hold up.. what did he just say? Did he just forbid me from being friends with Diana?
"May I ask why?" I wanted to hear his logic behind his ludicrous "request". In his book, "request" meant the same thing as "order".
"I have reason to believe she has an ulterior motive," he replied, taking a sip from his glass.
"Oh?" Now I was really paying attention.
"She's using you, she's toying with your friendship, hoping you'll open up to her and leak all the information she needs," my father said, with disgust in his voice.
'What in the world is he rambling on about this time?' I thought to myself angrily. 'He's making her sound like some sort of a heartless spy'.
"What do you mean?" I was trying very hard to not let my wrath seep out.
"Her father works for my competitor. Our rival! Has she let you in on that?" he challenged. I looked on as he rubbed his temples slowly, as though he was having a massive headache.
I felt a hard blow to my chest. She never said anything about her father's profession.. but then again, I never bothered to ask either..
"Well, no. We haven't really talked all that much about our families yet," I decided to defend her. "She doesn't even know you're my father, I haven't said a word."
"I'd say she conveniently left all those details out for you..." he started, "And James, I'm pretty sure she isn't as naive and innocent as you'd like to think," he added.
"Do you have evidence, sir? For your accusations, that is," He couldn't possibly flat out make fluff up, right?
"Don't worry. I've gone to the trouble of doing a background check on her," my father said, with a smug grin playing on his mouth.
"And according to my sources, she is already seeing somebody else. Of course, she has yet to tell you this too, I assume."
I was rendered speechless at this point. I focused my eyes on the deer head that hung to the brick-wall above the fireplace, the sight of that.. thing.. disgusted me. I really didn't feel like dwelling on my thoughts anymore...
"Diana would never do such a thing without telling me.." I convinced myself, silently.
I was almost certain of it at first but now.. doubts began to cloud my mind. "..would she?"
"I just don't want to see you get hurt, son," my dad said, his voice laced with seemingly sincere concern.
I nodded.
"She's no good for you. Stick with Angela, I know you love her," he said to me as he took another sip from his glass.
I nodded some more. Digesting all this made me feel sick to my stomach. I felt disgusted at how easily my father could read my feelings. I didn't think anyone would notice that I was falling for my best friend.
"Besides, I'm your father. If you can't trust me, who can you trust? And would I ever lie to you?"
More nodding. "I guess you have a point," I sighed.
"That's my boy," he stood up and walked to where I was sitting, and gave me a rather awkward pat on the shoulder.
"Well, now that's settled, I really have to run," he said as he adjusted his tie. "Important dinner party," he took a final swig and polished off the remaining liquor in his glass.
I watched as he swaggered out of the room, leaving me behind to connect all the dots.
She's using me. She lied to me.
I couldn't believe it. How was I supposed to face her now?
-Rachel-
"What have I gone and done this time?" I thought to myself as I stood in front the gates of hell. I combed through my memory, searching for an inkling as to what I might have done that would grant me this lovely meeting out of the blue. 'Come see me. I will expect you in my study before dinner. Be on time.' The 'invitation note' that I received wasn't very inviting. Nor did it give away any clues as to what I was in for.
I took a deep breath and decided to get it over with. I couldn't avoid him even if I decided to flee the country. I knocked reluctantly on the door, I wasn't exactly in the best of moods to see the person on the other side.
"Come in," I heard his voice echo through the thick slab of wood that separated us, for now.
I turned the doorknob and walked in gingerly.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" I asked the man dressed in an expensive tailored suit. He was standing in front of a roaring fireplace, with a glass of whiskey already in hand. He set the glass down and came to greet me.
"Ah, James," the man exclaimed as he extended his right hand to me, I shook it. No hugs, no pats on the back, no "Welcome back! How are you doing, son?", just a formal handshake. I wonder how many fathers greet their sons with such formality.
"I need to discuss something rather important with you, James," he sat himself down in an armchair and motioned for me to do the same.
The man hadn't changed one bit, everything was still all business to him. Never sparing a minute for anything else.
"I hear that you've been spending a lot of time with a new girl?" he probed and continued, "Diana? Or was it Donna?"
"Diana," I corrected him automatically. "What about her?" my tone was that of a defensive one.
I was getting anxious, I didn't like the direction this conversation was going. Why were we even talking about her? I may not have the best intuition in town, but my gut could forefeel bad news.
"Well, son.." he began, "I'd rather you not spend so much time with her."
Hold up.. what did he just say? Did he just forbid me from being friends with Diana?
"May I ask why?" I wanted to hear his logic behind his ludicrous "request". In his book, "request" meant the same thing as "order".
"I have reason to believe she has an ulterior motive," he replied, taking a sip from his glass.
"Oh?" Now I was really paying attention.
"She's using you, she's toying with your friendship, hoping you'll open up to her and leak all the information she needs," my father said, with disgust in his voice.
'What in the world is he rambling on about this time?' I thought to myself angrily. 'He's making her sound like some sort of a heartless spy'.
"What do you mean?" I was trying very hard to not let my wrath seep out.
"Her father works for my competitor. Our rival! Has she let you in on that?" he challenged. I looked on as he rubbed his temples slowly, as though he was having a massive headache.
I felt a hard blow to my chest. She never said anything about her father's profession.. but then again, I never bothered to ask either..
"Well, no. We haven't really talked all that much about our families yet," I decided to defend her. "She doesn't even know you're my father, I haven't said a word."
"I'd say she conveniently left all those details out for you..." he started, "And James, I'm pretty sure she isn't as naive and innocent as you'd like to think," he added.
"Do you have evidence, sir? For your accusations, that is," He couldn't possibly flat out make fluff up, right?
"Don't worry. I've gone to the trouble of doing a background check on her," my father said, with a smug grin playing on his mouth.
"And according to my sources, she is already seeing somebody else. Of course, she has yet to tell you this too, I assume."
I was rendered speechless at this point. I focused my eyes on the deer head that hung to the brick-wall above the fireplace, the sight of that.. thing.. disgusted me. I really didn't feel like dwelling on my thoughts anymore...
"Diana would never do such a thing without telling me.." I convinced myself, silently.
I was almost certain of it at first but now.. doubts began to cloud my mind. "..would she?"
"I just don't want to see you get hurt, son," my dad said, his voice laced with seemingly sincere concern.
I nodded.
"She's no good for you. Stick with Angela, I know you love her," he said to me as he took another sip from his glass.
I nodded some more. Digesting all this made me feel sick to my stomach. I felt disgusted at how easily my father could read my feelings. I didn't think anyone would notice that I was falling for my best friend.
"Besides, I'm your father. If you can't trust me, who can you trust? And would I ever lie to you?"
More nodding. "I guess you have a point," I sighed.
"That's my boy," he stood up and walked to where I was sitting, and gave me a rather awkward pat on the shoulder.
"Well, now that's settled, I really have to run," he said as he adjusted his tie. "Important dinner party," he took a final swig and polished off the remaining liquor in his glass.
I watched as he swaggered out of the room, leaving me behind to connect all the dots.
She's using me. She lied to me.
I couldn't believe it. How was I supposed to face her now?
-Rachel-
Monday 18 February 2008
Troubled
Diana
'Where's James?'
'I don't know. Am I supposed to know?' I shot Marshall a defensive glare, startled at how bitter I sounded. No, I wasn't bitter. I had no reason to be. Right?
'Chill. I was just asking.' So he'd noticed how curt my reply was. He eased into a chair opposite mine and looked at me quizzically.
'Is there something wrong?'
'No. I'm perfectly fine. What's up?'
'You don't seem fine. For one thing, you haven't smiled once since I appeared, and you're obviously distracted by something. James?'
He received another murderously dark look from me. Marshall could be impossibly irritating at times, especially when it involved James. And whenever he teased, I flared up. For some reason. Maybe it was because I sensed that Marshall resented James for getting the most of my attention, and I didn't like my priorities being questioned.
'He's not my boyfriend. Why do you expect me to know where he is, as if he's supposed to be a permanent fixture by my side?'
'Someone's getting sensitive.'
I sighed inaudibly. He was right. Not that I was going to admit it, but I was conscious of how irrationally I was reacting. I sat there silently, not bothering to reply. As much as I tried to convince myself that Marshall started it, I knew I was in a foul mood and he was the innocent party.
'You know, I really don't think this is the best time to bring this up, but since I'm here already, I might as well find out. Who's that new girl James was hanging out with the other day in town? She's not from our academy, is she?'
'You mean Angela? No. James met her...somewhere else.'
As those words left my mouth, I found myself wondering once again where, how and when they even met. Weirdly enough, James hadn't said a single word about it. This was so unlike him - but then again, he'd been acting up lately. A few weeks ago, he would have shared everything with me - his dreams, his thoughts, his opinions. A few weeks ago, he would have still been my best friend. The news that he was dating Angela came rather suddenly through the grapevine, and I felt like I had been left out in the dark intentionally. Like he didn't want to tell me anything anymore. Like I wasn't close enough to be trusted. No. James wasn't like that. I didn't want to jump to such disturbing conclusions. I immediately pushed those unpleasant thoughts out of my mind.
'She's hot.'
I grinned half-heartedly in response. Guys. Every other girl was hot anyway. My thoughts wandered further. Why was he acting so evasive? As if he was afraid of being seen with me. I recalled how he'd excused himself hastily in the past few weeks every time I approached him to talk. And that look he gave me. That almost disdainful expression in his eyes. Those big, brown eyes of his that never lied. It couldn't be, could it? I'm just imagining things. I'm just being paranoid.
And Angela. Somehow, the thought of them together made me sick. I couldn't imagine James, my James ever belonging to anyone else, but now it was so. Angela was sweet, pretty and everything a girl could ever hope to be. Then why did I feel so bad about it? What reason did I have for feeling this way? She was good for him. So why did I feel my stomach sinking?
Why was Marshall- I suddenly realized that he was still there and that I'd drifted. He'd been scrutinizing my expression intently for the past few minutes. I cleared my throat to break the uncomfortable silence. Marshall was still looking at me queerly. Apologetically, in fact. But why apologetically? It wasn't as if he'd said anything wrong. If I deserved an apology or at least, an explanation from anyone, it would be from James. He was the one acting like a...like a...jerk. Jerk. I swallowed hard as that word echoed in my mind. I never thought I'd see the day when "James" and "jerk" would be found in the same sentence. A sentence formed by, of all people, me. His best friend. Once, anyway.
'Anyway, I always thought you two were in love. Really. The way he looks at you-'
I liked neither the direction the conversation was going in, nor the inexplicably unpleasant emotions surfacing as a result.
'Hey, I have to go complete an assignment. Catch you later, okay?'
I flashed him my brightest smile and left the library, feeling his eyes on me with every step I took.
***
Stunned speechless by those stinging words, I could only stare at him. Who was he? Why didn't I know him anymore? Was this the very same James who'd been my best friend all these years? I struggled to regain my composure. The hurt I felt must have registered on my face, because the next thing I knew, he smirked.
He smirked.
As if I wasn't devastated enough already. I didn't trust myself to speak, and he didn't allow me to, anyway. Turning on his heels, he slammed the door after himself, the blast reverberating around the room, ringing in my ears, suffocating my heart.
Anger. That was the next thing I remembered. Anger and hurt, fueling my energy. I was too angry to cry, too humiliated to retreat. How dare he. How dare he! I didn't do anything to deserve this! Fine. Two could play this little game.
And I knew exactly how to hurt him, to wipe that cocky smirk off his face.
-May-
'Where's James?'
'I don't know. Am I supposed to know?' I shot Marshall a defensive glare, startled at how bitter I sounded. No, I wasn't bitter. I had no reason to be. Right?
'Chill. I was just asking.' So he'd noticed how curt my reply was. He eased into a chair opposite mine and looked at me quizzically.
'Is there something wrong?'
'No. I'm perfectly fine. What's up?'
'You don't seem fine. For one thing, you haven't smiled once since I appeared, and you're obviously distracted by something. James?'
He received another murderously dark look from me. Marshall could be impossibly irritating at times, especially when it involved James. And whenever he teased, I flared up. For some reason. Maybe it was because I sensed that Marshall resented James for getting the most of my attention, and I didn't like my priorities being questioned.
'He's not my boyfriend. Why do you expect me to know where he is, as if he's supposed to be a permanent fixture by my side?'
'Someone's getting sensitive.'
I sighed inaudibly. He was right. Not that I was going to admit it, but I was conscious of how irrationally I was reacting. I sat there silently, not bothering to reply. As much as I tried to convince myself that Marshall started it, I knew I was in a foul mood and he was the innocent party.
'You know, I really don't think this is the best time to bring this up, but since I'm here already, I might as well find out. Who's that new girl James was hanging out with the other day in town? She's not from our academy, is she?'
'You mean Angela? No. James met her...somewhere else.'
As those words left my mouth, I found myself wondering once again where, how and when they even met. Weirdly enough, James hadn't said a single word about it. This was so unlike him - but then again, he'd been acting up lately. A few weeks ago, he would have shared everything with me - his dreams, his thoughts, his opinions. A few weeks ago, he would have still been my best friend. The news that he was dating Angela came rather suddenly through the grapevine, and I felt like I had been left out in the dark intentionally. Like he didn't want to tell me anything anymore. Like I wasn't close enough to be trusted. No. James wasn't like that. I didn't want to jump to such disturbing conclusions. I immediately pushed those unpleasant thoughts out of my mind.
'She's hot.'
I grinned half-heartedly in response. Guys. Every other girl was hot anyway. My thoughts wandered further. Why was he acting so evasive? As if he was afraid of being seen with me. I recalled how he'd excused himself hastily in the past few weeks every time I approached him to talk. And that look he gave me. That almost disdainful expression in his eyes. Those big, brown eyes of his that never lied. It couldn't be, could it? I'm just imagining things. I'm just being paranoid.
And Angela. Somehow, the thought of them together made me sick. I couldn't imagine James, my James ever belonging to anyone else, but now it was so. Angela was sweet, pretty and everything a girl could ever hope to be. Then why did I feel so bad about it? What reason did I have for feeling this way? She was good for him. So why did I feel my stomach sinking?
Why was Marshall- I suddenly realized that he was still there and that I'd drifted. He'd been scrutinizing my expression intently for the past few minutes. I cleared my throat to break the uncomfortable silence. Marshall was still looking at me queerly. Apologetically, in fact. But why apologetically? It wasn't as if he'd said anything wrong. If I deserved an apology or at least, an explanation from anyone, it would be from James. He was the one acting like a...like a...jerk. Jerk. I swallowed hard as that word echoed in my mind. I never thought I'd see the day when "James" and "jerk" would be found in the same sentence. A sentence formed by, of all people, me. His best friend. Once, anyway.
'Anyway, I always thought you two were in love. Really. The way he looks at you-'
I liked neither the direction the conversation was going in, nor the inexplicably unpleasant emotions surfacing as a result.
'Hey, I have to go complete an assignment. Catch you later, okay?'
I flashed him my brightest smile and left the library, feeling his eyes on me with every step I took.
***
Stunned speechless by those stinging words, I could only stare at him. Who was he? Why didn't I know him anymore? Was this the very same James who'd been my best friend all these years? I struggled to regain my composure. The hurt I felt must have registered on my face, because the next thing I knew, he smirked.
He smirked.
As if I wasn't devastated enough already. I didn't trust myself to speak, and he didn't allow me to, anyway. Turning on his heels, he slammed the door after himself, the blast reverberating around the room, ringing in my ears, suffocating my heart.
Anger. That was the next thing I remembered. Anger and hurt, fueling my energy. I was too angry to cry, too humiliated to retreat. How dare he. How dare he! I didn't do anything to deserve this! Fine. Two could play this little game.
And I knew exactly how to hurt him, to wipe that cocky smirk off his face.
-May-
Secret no more
Angela
It was his eyes that gave him away. Those deep, brown, expressive eyes of his. If you stares into those eyes long enough, you can eventually make out every emotion he feels. They're like a mirror into his soul.
And that is precisely why he will never be a good liar. He can try to convince everyone, even himself, otherwise, but his true feelings shine forth if one looks closely enough. Perhaps that's the quality of genuineness that puts everyone around him at ease. One always knows when he is sincere.
I couldn't see that at first. Blinded by my ecstatic joy in his seeming interest in me, I failed to look closely enough. It had been a dream for so long, an unconscious desire for so many months that I jumped in without looking when the dream seemingly came true. I didn't WANT to look any closer. I didn't WANT to question him. I just wanted HIM.
My mistake. He doesn't really love me, I know that now. He tries to convince himself that he does, but I can tell. He loves someone else. He loves HER. His eyes sparkle only when she's around. A dead giveaway.
I suppose I should be angry about it. Technically he's cheating on me emotionally, the worst possible kind of dishonesty. But I can't feel angry. I understand his motives too well. He's bound by a loyalty so strong that only love can break. And I just cannot fault him for having the very quality that I so love about him. He cannot help what he feels.
All I feel is sadness. Because I know that I must end this, for both our sakes. He will never be completely happy in this relationship, and I will never be completely happy knowing that he is unhappy. So I must end this, somehow.
And hope that somewhere, sometime, somehow, I'll be able to love again.
It was his eyes that gave him away. Those deep, brown, expressive eyes of his. If you stares into those eyes long enough, you can eventually make out every emotion he feels. They're like a mirror into his soul.
And that is precisely why he will never be a good liar. He can try to convince everyone, even himself, otherwise, but his true feelings shine forth if one looks closely enough. Perhaps that's the quality of genuineness that puts everyone around him at ease. One always knows when he is sincere.
I couldn't see that at first. Blinded by my ecstatic joy in his seeming interest in me, I failed to look closely enough. It had been a dream for so long, an unconscious desire for so many months that I jumped in without looking when the dream seemingly came true. I didn't WANT to look any closer. I didn't WANT to question him. I just wanted HIM.
My mistake. He doesn't really love me, I know that now. He tries to convince himself that he does, but I can tell. He loves someone else. He loves HER. His eyes sparkle only when she's around. A dead giveaway.
I suppose I should be angry about it. Technically he's cheating on me emotionally, the worst possible kind of dishonesty. But I can't feel angry. I understand his motives too well. He's bound by a loyalty so strong that only love can break. And I just cannot fault him for having the very quality that I so love about him. He cannot help what he feels.
All I feel is sadness. Because I know that I must end this, for both our sakes. He will never be completely happy in this relationship, and I will never be completely happy knowing that he is unhappy. So I must end this, somehow.
And hope that somewhere, sometime, somehow, I'll be able to love again.
Saturday 16 February 2008
Incomplete: Revised Storyline
James and Diana
1. Meet in academy, become friends.
2. Grow closer, "best friends", other friends know they are in love but they refuse to admit it. They CANNOT admit it to each other because James' father is an autocratic figure who uses James to further his own political standing by "hooking him up" to the daughter of one of his main financial backers named Angela. James, ever the loyal son, submits. Diana believes James is truly in love with Angela.
3. James' father notices that James is starting to act take an interest in Diana, and falsely claims that Diana is trying to get close just to act as a pseudo-spy by giving false hearsay evidence, because Diana's father is a political rival. James, ever the loyal son, believes him. James starts acting like a REALLY BIG JERK towards Diana, confusing and hurting her. In retaliation, Diana publicly reveals James' childhood phobia, humiliating him. Afterwards, both feel guilty, and it shows, but both are too proud to admit it.
4. James prepares to leave the academy to study abroad. Diana finds out the extent of James love for her from Angela, who has realized James' true feelings, just before he leaves. She understands how committed James is to his father, but confronts him anyway. The confrontation ends in tears, with Angela walking out on James.
5. James leaves, Diana doesn't say goodbye.
6. James and Diana communicate through mail, apologize. They start a relationship.
7. A year later finds them together. Marshall, Diana's friend, secretly harbors feelings for her but is unable to express it.
8. Diana and James struggle through their feelings for each other. Then James' father again starts to interfere, eventually forcing them to break up by playing on James' loyalties.
9. Marshall makes his move, and Diana reluctantly accepts, causing James to become extremely jealous. James grows increasingly resentful towards his father for causing the rift between him and Diana, and secretly supplies information about his father to rival political parties. Marshall, who works for James' dad, tries to befriend James, whom he likes and respects, but James is too jealous to accept. James' jealousy leads him to slander and bad-mouth Marshall, whose work environment becomes increasingly hostile.
10. James' father discovers James' treachery, and in a fit of irrational rage he knocks James out cold and ties him to a post. He is about to whip James when Marshall comes in and tries to stop him. His verbal efforts fail and only incite James' father more, who is so angry that he draws a gun. He is about to shoot James when Marshall threatens to blackmail him using the information he has gained while working under him. James' father shoots Marshall instead, severely wounding him. James manages to get free and overpowers his father, who is sent to jail for attempted murder.
11. Marshall survives and is convalescing in the hospital when he realizes that Diana is still in love with James and brings them together again, possible now that James' father is gone. He then proceeds himself to fall madly in love with Angela, now a nurse at the hospital. All's well that ends well.
1. Meet in academy, become friends.
2. Grow closer, "best friends", other friends know they are in love but they refuse to admit it. They CANNOT admit it to each other because James' father is an autocratic figure who uses James to further his own political standing by "hooking him up" to the daughter of one of his main financial backers named Angela. James, ever the loyal son, submits. Diana believes James is truly in love with Angela.
3. James' father notices that James is starting to act take an interest in Diana, and falsely claims that Diana is trying to get close just to act as a pseudo-spy by giving false hearsay evidence, because Diana's father is a political rival. James, ever the loyal son, believes him. James starts acting like a REALLY BIG JERK towards Diana, confusing and hurting her. In retaliation, Diana publicly reveals James' childhood phobia, humiliating him. Afterwards, both feel guilty, and it shows, but both are too proud to admit it.
4. James prepares to leave the academy to study abroad. Diana finds out the extent of James love for her from Angela, who has realized James' true feelings, just before he leaves. She understands how committed James is to his father, but confronts him anyway. The confrontation ends in tears, with Angela walking out on James.
5. James leaves, Diana doesn't say goodbye.
6. James and Diana communicate through mail, apologize. They start a relationship.
7. A year later finds them together. Marshall, Diana's friend, secretly harbors feelings for her but is unable to express it.
8. Diana and James struggle through their feelings for each other. Then James' father again starts to interfere, eventually forcing them to break up by playing on James' loyalties.
9. Marshall makes his move, and Diana reluctantly accepts, causing James to become extremely jealous. James grows increasingly resentful towards his father for causing the rift between him and Diana, and secretly supplies information about his father to rival political parties. Marshall, who works for James' dad, tries to befriend James, whom he likes and respects, but James is too jealous to accept. James' jealousy leads him to slander and bad-mouth Marshall, whose work environment becomes increasingly hostile.
10. James' father discovers James' treachery, and in a fit of irrational rage he knocks James out cold and ties him to a post. He is about to whip James when Marshall comes in and tries to stop him. His verbal efforts fail and only incite James' father more, who is so angry that he draws a gun. He is about to shoot James when Marshall threatens to blackmail him using the information he has gained while working under him. James' father shoots Marshall instead, severely wounding him. James manages to get free and overpowers his father, who is sent to jail for attempted murder.
11. Marshall survives and is convalescing in the hospital when he realizes that Diana is still in love with James and brings them together again, possible now that James' father is gone. He then proceeds himself to fall madly in love with Angela, now a nurse at the hospital. All's well that ends well.
Incomplete: Proposed Storyline
James and Diana
Outline so far-
1. Meet in academy, become friends.
2. Grow closer, "best friends", other friends know they are in love but they refuse to admit it. They CANNOT admit it to each other because.... (factor unknown).
3. James leaves the academy, Diana finds out the extent of James love for her from...(unknown who and how) just before he leaves.
4. They both wrong each other...(somehow), causing a rift between them.
5. James leaves, Diana doesn't say goodbye.
6. James and Diana communicate through mail, apologize. Start of "relationship" (what sort? how?).
7. A year later finds them together. Marshall, Diana's friend, secretly harbors feelings for her but is unable to express it.
8. Diana and James struggle through feelings and emotions, as well as problems such as... (unknown).
The story continued....
9. The (unknown) problem causes them to separate, even though they still love each other.
10. Marshall makes his move and Diana reluctantly accepts, rousing James' jealousy.
11. War comes, James joins up in a rage of emotions and is sent to the front lines.
12. The war spreads to the city in which Diana and Marshall live. James, as a soldier, is wounded and brought to the hospital where Marshall works.
13. Marshall, now a doctor, saves James' life.
14. As James recovers, Marshall realizes the extent to which Diana still loves James.
15. James believes Diana still loves Marshall, is angry with him for saving his life. Marshall does his best to make-up with James, to no avail.
16. The city is taken over by the other side. Soldiers come for James, but Marshall gives himself up as James, even though death is certain. The soldiers shoot Marshall and he dies.
17. James and Diana escape on a ship. The war has erased their "problem" and they can finally be together.
18. Epilogue- James is asked by his son Marshall what his name means. James tells Marshall he is named after a great man, the best friend a person could have.
**Jave, May, Rachel: What do you guys think? Want to write it together? Slowly, of course, piece by piece, the way we started out. As you can see, there're still plenty of holes to fill, and feel free to change stuff.
Outline so far-
1. Meet in academy, become friends.
2. Grow closer, "best friends", other friends know they are in love but they refuse to admit it. They CANNOT admit it to each other because.... (factor unknown).
3. James leaves the academy, Diana finds out the extent of James love for her from...(unknown who and how) just before he leaves.
4. They both wrong each other...(somehow), causing a rift between them.
5. James leaves, Diana doesn't say goodbye.
6. James and Diana communicate through mail, apologize. Start of "relationship" (what sort? how?).
7. A year later finds them together. Marshall, Diana's friend, secretly harbors feelings for her but is unable to express it.
8. Diana and James struggle through feelings and emotions, as well as problems such as... (unknown).
The story continued....
9. The (unknown) problem causes them to separate, even though they still love each other.
10. Marshall makes his move and Diana reluctantly accepts, rousing James' jealousy.
11. War comes, James joins up in a rage of emotions and is sent to the front lines.
12. The war spreads to the city in which Diana and Marshall live. James, as a soldier, is wounded and brought to the hospital where Marshall works.
13. Marshall, now a doctor, saves James' life.
14. As James recovers, Marshall realizes the extent to which Diana still loves James.
15. James believes Diana still loves Marshall, is angry with him for saving his life. Marshall does his best to make-up with James, to no avail.
16. The city is taken over by the other side. Soldiers come for James, but Marshall gives himself up as James, even though death is certain. The soldiers shoot Marshall and he dies.
17. James and Diana escape on a ship. The war has erased their "problem" and they can finally be together.
18. Epilogue- James is asked by his son Marshall what his name means. James tells Marshall he is named after a great man, the best friend a person could have.
**Jave, May, Rachel: What do you guys think? Want to write it together? Slowly, of course, piece by piece, the way we started out. As you can see, there're still plenty of holes to fill, and feel free to change stuff.
Conflict
Diana
"You're doing it again. Stop it! Just...stop it. We have to talk. Now."
I could read the frustration and anger in his voice. He stopped pacing around and looked straight at me, his flaming eyes boring through mine. I froze, my hand on the doorknob. I was so choked up and disorientated that I could barely speak, my tears blurring my vision.
"Don't run away. You always do that. Please. I...I love you. But that doesn't mean you can keep on doing things I don't understand. I want to know why. Help me understand. Please."
"Not now."
I swiftly left before he could say another word, before he could wring my heart anymore with that voice of his - that voice that I loved so much. I needed to be alone. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with my overwhelming emotions. Time. Yes, I needed time. Alone. Desperately.
Why? Will he trust me anymore? It wasn't my fault. I didn't do anything wrong. Did I do something wrong? Where did I go wrong? I love him. I love him. I love him. He's hurt. I can't bear to see him like this. I don't want to lose him. My incoherent, disorganized thoughts merged into a confusing mixture of whys, whats and hows. I tried to understand and organize my own emotions, but to no avail. Curled up miserably in the corner of my bedroom, I shed some more silent tears and whimpered into my pillow soundlessly. So tired. So exhausted...
The phone rang, jolting me up with a start. When did I fall asleep? I was suddenly aware of how fatigued I felt. The phone was still ringing jarringly. Dread enveloped me as I recalled the confrontation - if he was calling, I didn't want to pick up. Yet I wanted to pick up just to hear his voice. I missed him. So, so badly. However, I wasn't ready to face him yet. Fear wrestled with the black hole that was once my heart. The phone finally stopped ringing, and I breathed again. No, not now. I was still incoherent. I had reasons for my actions, but I could not express them. The words just wouldn't come to me.
It would take some time for me to recover. But I missed him. So much. The ache gnawed at my heart, nibbling away at what was left of it. I knew it was there to stay for awhile. Until I made things right again. Until I had the courage to explain my guiltless motives. But he wouldn't understand - not now. Not with the odds stacked up against me. It wasn't the right time. Desperation and depression clawed at me, pulling me both ways. I needed to do something, anything to get this burden off my chest- but I was afraid of worsening the situation with my incoherency. I had to wait this out. Yes, time. I needed time.
And time, was precisely what I didn't have.
-May-
"You're doing it again. Stop it! Just...stop it. We have to talk. Now."
I could read the frustration and anger in his voice. He stopped pacing around and looked straight at me, his flaming eyes boring through mine. I froze, my hand on the doorknob. I was so choked up and disorientated that I could barely speak, my tears blurring my vision.
"Don't run away. You always do that. Please. I...I love you. But that doesn't mean you can keep on doing things I don't understand. I want to know why. Help me understand. Please."
"Not now."
I swiftly left before he could say another word, before he could wring my heart anymore with that voice of his - that voice that I loved so much. I needed to be alone. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with my overwhelming emotions. Time. Yes, I needed time. Alone. Desperately.
Why? Will he trust me anymore? It wasn't my fault. I didn't do anything wrong. Did I do something wrong? Where did I go wrong? I love him. I love him. I love him. He's hurt. I can't bear to see him like this. I don't want to lose him. My incoherent, disorganized thoughts merged into a confusing mixture of whys, whats and hows. I tried to understand and organize my own emotions, but to no avail. Curled up miserably in the corner of my bedroom, I shed some more silent tears and whimpered into my pillow soundlessly. So tired. So exhausted...
The phone rang, jolting me up with a start. When did I fall asleep? I was suddenly aware of how fatigued I felt. The phone was still ringing jarringly. Dread enveloped me as I recalled the confrontation - if he was calling, I didn't want to pick up. Yet I wanted to pick up just to hear his voice. I missed him. So, so badly. However, I wasn't ready to face him yet. Fear wrestled with the black hole that was once my heart. The phone finally stopped ringing, and I breathed again. No, not now. I was still incoherent. I had reasons for my actions, but I could not express them. The words just wouldn't come to me.
It would take some time for me to recover. But I missed him. So much. The ache gnawed at my heart, nibbling away at what was left of it. I knew it was there to stay for awhile. Until I made things right again. Until I had the courage to explain my guiltless motives. But he wouldn't understand - not now. Not with the odds stacked up against me. It wasn't the right time. Desperation and depression clawed at me, pulling me both ways. I needed to do something, anything to get this burden off my chest- but I was afraid of worsening the situation with my incoherency. I had to wait this out. Yes, time. I needed time.
And time, was precisely what I didn't have.
-May-
Wednesday 13 February 2008
Evanescent
Like a breath of air
Rising to join the clouds
Like a snowflake
In the palm of my hand
Evanescent
Like a wolf's howl
Searing like a shiver
Like a teardrop
Wiped away forever
Evanescent
Grasping fingers
To no avail
Like smoke from the ashes
I try to embrace it but it drifts away
Unconcerned
Evanescent
Momentary happiness
Singular joy
Ephemeral oblivion
Intruder! Reality
Infringing, separating
Time
The moment wanders
The dying embers
Remember the heat
Remember the passion
Unforgotten but lost
Evanescent
I remember.
Rising to join the clouds
Like a snowflake
In the palm of my hand
Evanescent
Like a wolf's howl
Searing like a shiver
Like a teardrop
Wiped away forever
Evanescent
Grasping fingers
To no avail
Like smoke from the ashes
I try to embrace it but it drifts away
Unconcerned
Evanescent
Momentary happiness
Singular joy
Ephemeral oblivion
Intruder! Reality
Infringing, separating
Time
The moment wanders
The dying embers
Remember the heat
Remember the passion
Unforgotten but lost
Evanescent
I remember.
Monday 11 February 2008
Incomplete: The Story
PART I
There he was again. Walking past the foyer, alone as usual. The girl glanced casually at him, his apparent oddness grabbing her attention. He stood out from the crowd of students with his awkward gait - not to mention a reference book tucked under his arm. Everything about him screamed "misfit".
He'd always been like that.
Why do some people become loners? Why is it that some never find true friends? Do they choose to go against the flow? Why can't they fit in anywhere? Do they even need friends? The questions nagged at her ceaselessly. She wondered why she even cared.
He was from her class, yet she never tried to get closely acquainted with him. Nobody did, really. He was just...odd. She, on the other hand, was generally viewed as one high up on the social ladder. She felt a pang of understanding for him - she'd never really fit in as well. Popularity was nothing, contrary to what those who lacked it thought. She was a loner, too, just of a different sort.
Her curiosity got the better of her. Mustering up her courage, she approached him.
"Why don't you ever talk to anyone?" Abrupt to the point of rudeness, yet she couldn't think of any other way to start this conversation.
He was taken aback. Erm, are you talking to me? He blinked and realized that she was. He couldn't make sense out of her question - then again, it wasn't every day people approached him to chat, much less ask him questions.
"Um. Huh?" Relieved at the sound of his own voice, he regained his composure. He was flustered - he couldn't remember the last time he spoke to anyone within the week - besides his parents, of course.
"Why are you always alone?" She prodded him from a different angle this time.
"I...I don't know. Why?"
She paused and an awkward silence reigned. She didn't know what else to say. To her relief, he hesitantly smiled.
"I...not that...you..."
He cut himself off, knowing that his incoherency would further worsen the situation. Somehow, he never had a way with words around people, much less around girls. Why was she even talking to him, anyway? She wouldn't understand. Harhar, no way she could understand. She had everything going for her - a perfect life, perfect grades, perfect everything. He envied people like her with all his heart.
"Yes?" Her head was cocked to one side, a quizzical expression written all over her face.
He felt himself turning red, not knowing how to reply. Who put him under the spotlight? He fidgeted and wished that he could disappear - either him or HER.
"No one understands me." His already barely audible voice trailed off, and she had to strain her ears to catch the last part. By now, her bravado had worn off, and she was already thinking of ways to gracefully exit the conversation. His visible embarrassment stopped her in her tracks. Her empathy won out.
"Try me. I know what it feels like, trust me. Nobody really understands me too. Hard to believe, but..." She gave up in frustration. Experience told her that it would only earn her an incredulous look mixed with disbelief. She was tired of all that. So fed up. She braced herself for the inevitable.
Now he really wished he could disappear. The heavens must have really had something against him. First of all, a GIRL chose to talk to him today. Oh, excuse me, PROD into his private life, not just talk. THEN, just when he thought that things couldn't get worse, she had to go all emotional on him. Help. Help. Help!
"I'm sorry." He felt weird. Not as uncomfortable as he expected. And all of a sudden, the awkwardness he felt vanished. He found himself stretching out his hand. It was surreal, almost dream-like. He couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth the next second.
"Let's be friends."
***
He reminisced, sitting alone in the comforting darkness, the cacophony dulling as his memory took him back a few months, weeks, mere days ago.
A faint smile played on his lips as he remembered how she would seemingly walk in and out of other people's lives, touching them and sprinkling drops of refreshing joy with her little acts of kindness. Her distracted gaze, always on the lookout for who knows what. She first captivated him with her inquisitiveness, prodding him to let her into places he'd never let anyone into. Unable to escape her charm for some odd reason, he found himself wondering more and more about her.
He helplessly watched her flit around, social butterfly-esque, unrestrained, untamed; she belonged to no one, and he could not bring himself to claim her. There were times he thought she paid him more attention than what would have been usual, but the very next day, uncertainty would strike again as she passed him by without much notice. Flustered, he took a back seat, and resolved not to make anymore clumsy moves. Secretly, however, he never stopped longing for the day he could comfort her by enveloping her in his embrace, catch her every emotion, feel her pulse beating.
***
She smiled wistfully as she curled up in bed, her thoughts allowed to run all over each other while she watched and listened, as might a casual observer.
Strangely, he always appearing in her thoughts nowadays. She remembered the muted signals he gave out; the hints she tried to ignore. Somehow, though, she could never be sure about how he felt for her. Something inside her was stirring, but she didn't dare understand it. It was inexplicable. What was so different about this one? He intrigued her by his mysterious stoicism. Why didn't he fall for her charm right away, or at least show that he did? Not many could withstand her subtle manipulation. Uncanny.
Then again, she didn't use it on him. She didn't want him to fall for her - she knew that she would have to hurt him. Too many secrets, some a young girl should never have to hold. Too many duties and obligations. Why her?
Why him?
She sighed, hugging her bolster tightly to her chest to calm her rapid heartbeats. And fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
***
James
She looked wonderful that night. Her skin was whiter than the snow, and her eyes, bluer than the bluest skies. Her hair was slightly messy; the shoulder-length locks of black hair dangled around her ears and pink cheeks. As black as her hair was her simple yet striking satin dress. Even without any lace or fancy decorations, her appearance took my breath away. Her dainty steps made soft clicking sounds on the smooth, shiny mezzanine floor. It amazed that a person like her could hold up an air of such grace and elegance. I was dumbstruck. Her presence sent me into a world of lonely and shameful despairing. I had been teasing her; I wanted to discourage her from coming to the ball. I had insulted her looks; she had looked like an undignified conformist. But she had taken up the challenge and now she was there before me looking like an angel. An angel whom I have fallen for.
"James," her gentle voice beckoned for me. Her sweet, melodious voice echoed through the dim, narrow hallway.
I could not say anything. I was frozen by her awesome beauty.
"James," she came again.
"Yes?" I answered with a question.
"Do I look alright?" she asked as she swung her frilly skirt ends left and right with a slightly bashful tone.
I cleared my throat. I felt my face growing hot. "You look wonderful tonight."
Our eyes met and something happened. It was special.
It was as if the world was about to collide into the sun, but all you can think about is to look at a a flower, smell the fragrance coming from it, ponder about the fragility of it all and feel happy and contented; just as if there was nothing wrong.
"James?" she asked, a little puzzled. "Are you alright?"
I said, "Yes, I feel wonderful tonight."
"Look, if you're guilty about making fun of me," she began. "Forget it, okay."
There was silence for a few minutes.
"Shall we dance?" I offered.
Her soft face broke into a childish grin. "Yes, let's!"
***
Marshall
"Hey, since it's only two of us here, let me share something with you," said my friend.
I lowered my book and nodded my agreement to lend her my ears.
"Last night, James walked me back home. On the way back, he told me about his dreams, his ambitions," she began.
Something's wrong.... I could sense it.
I slowly leaned forward to show my attention. When it comes to James, this particular friend of mine becomes - I don't know, uhm.. - sensitive, protective, melancholy, excited; to me, symptoms of love.
Oh yes, my friend is in love, even if she won't admit it. They met over two years ago. The two of them spend hours together. Music, sports, even studying together. Our circle of friends could tell that there was something special going on between those two. But they would never admit it to each other, not beyond anything superficial.
"And, from what he told me, this academy isn't exactly the place for him. I mean, if he wants to pursue his dreams, this academy isn't the right place," she continued.
My dear friend, I think I understand how you feel... I thought to myself.
"He told me that it's highly likely that he's going to leave," said my friend, disappointment evident in her voice.
Then there was silence.
"Do you know the feeling? You know, it's so disappointing somehow, and heartbreaking. You know what I mean? When you've worked so hard for something, and then it just gets taken away from you," she said.
I nodded. "Yes, I do. I do," I replied.
"I talked to my mother about this, about James leaving..." my friend said. "I actually cried over this matter."
Yes dear friend, I understand how you feel... I thought to myself again.
"I.. I.. I just, I just don't know what to do," she said with a tone of resignation.
***
James
"Liar! Filthy liar! How could you!" she screamed. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the blood seeping out from a badly cut lip. Her eyes were swollen, her hair bedraggled. She looked like she had just come from a battlefield.
I did not know what to say.
"Tell me what she said isn't true. Tell me! Tell me!!"
I looked at the ground and kept my silence. Nothing I could say would change what had happened. I was guilty all the same.
So she slapped me. Hard. I reeled back, my head ringing.
"So its true, huh. You just couldn't be bothered to tell me. Or maybe you just didn't want me to know?" She was no longer screaming, but her eyes were crying bloody murder. With her silent fury a wave of shame swept over me, my guts threatening to ice up.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry? You're SORRY??!!" She slapped me again, harder. "Is that all you can say? You lie to me for three bloody years, and all you can say is SORRY?!"
I couldn't stand it anymore. I grabbed her hands before she could strike again.
"And what would you rather have had me do, lass? Told you?!"
"YES!!"
I looked at her pointedly. She looked back furiously, frustrated. "Damn it, you could have at least... At least...."
"At least what?" I asked quietly.
"I don't know! Said something! Done something! Anything!"
"You know I couldn't."
She collapsed, weeping. "Then why now, why now when tomorrow you'll be gone?"
I smiled bitterly. "I'm not the one who told you, was I?"
Silent, she sobbed, her face in her hands.
I knelt before her, and lifted her face with my hand. Her tear-streaked face, lovely with emotion. Her liquid eyes looked into mine, so deep I felt myself falling into them.
I touched her swollen lips with my finger. "At least now you know," I whispered.
She smiled heartbreakingly, and teardrops fell.
"At least now I know," she repeated softly, her voice hoarse with grief.
Then she got up and left the room, without once glancing back.
I had never felt so alone.
***
There was an odd mixture of feelings in the air tonight. She could almost taste the emotions: intricate and bittersweet. She scanned her surroundings with a swift sweep, her eyes covering as much detail as possible. There were people scattered everywhere, scurrying about, minding their own business. She wrinkled her nose as the smell of overpriced coffee and stale muffins fill up her head. What was she doing here again? Her mind kept going back to the same question. Why was she here? All she knew was that she didn't like it here very much.
She was standing in this very spot just a few months ago. Sending her best friend off, to who-knows-where. Her best friend was moving, not into another neighborhood close by, but some place further than the usual ten minutes of walking away. Another continent, in fact. She could feel the moisture well up in her eyes almost immediately as she recalled how much she has missed her since. Quickly, she blinked and forced the tears back to where they belonged.
The generic ding-dong chime sounded, signaling the beginning of a new hour. The jingle managed to snap her out of her memories and she was instantly reminded to focus only on the task at hand.
Frantically, she searched for a familiar face but found none, only quizzical looks from strangers when her eyes and theirs accidentally met for a split second. She wasted no time on them and continued looking for him. For anyone familiar at all. They had to be here, somewhere.
She checked her watch again and again. Begging for time to slow down, to accommodate her, for just this once.
She was angry, regretful, and perhaps even a little vengeful. The news was all too sudden, him speaking of leaving out of the blue. It came as a shock, a real blow. She scolded herself endlessly for not being attentive enough. How could she jot down the wrong time? How could she be so careless? How could circumstances be so merciless to her today, of all days? She needed a source to blame.
Nothing registered in her head, her mind was a blank. She never was the best under pressure. Thus, she decided to let her intuition guide her, for she had nothing else. Her sixth sense led her to the schedule boards. Putting two and two together, she began running towards the designated dock number.. she ran until her lungs felt like they were on fire.. until her legs felt like they would give in if she took another step.
Breathless, she reached the gate. Please, please, please... don't go.. not yet. She mumbled under her breath as her eyes combed through the crowds, searching for him.
But it was all too late. She was too late.
He's gone.
The ship sailed mere minutes ago. She raced all the way here, to no avail.
He didn't wait for her. Not even for another second.
How could he? How could he just leave like that? Without saying a word? Without a proper goodbye?
She let the salt water stain her face. She didn't try to hide her tears this time.
***
He was known for his bad habit of procrastinating, but even this was taking it too far. He was leaving in less than twenty four hours yet he couldn't bring himself to pack up his belongings. The mere thought of leaving this place, of leaving her, was enough to stop him from doing much of anything. His mind was clouded with uncertainty, doubt, fear and a tinge of unwillingness. In the end, he did manage to gather a few of his possessions - the watch she gave him for his birthday, now worn with seasoned use; and his sketchbook, filled with irreplaceable memories. He simply dumped everything else into the two open suitcases mindlessly.
That night, he drifted in and out of his slumber, his eyelids never remained shut for a full ten minutes. He tossed about on his bed, trying to will some sleep into himself. He stared at the ceiling blankly, he even counted sheep. After all, desperate times did call for desperate measures. He was going to need sufficient rest for his journey.
Unfortunately, sleep never came for him.
He was feeling particularly dazed and sleep deprived as he dragged his luggage into the port. He walked lazily towards the ticket booth, taking his sweet time. Just as soon as he was done loading his baggage, he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was almost as though electricity ran through his body as anticipation began to build up inside of him. He spun around rather clumsily, fully expecting to see her standing behind him, with that half grin he loved so much plastered on her face. Instead, he was greeted by a loud "Surprise!" from his friends. He felt his heart plop down, but he quickly regained composure. He felt guilty for he really was more than glad to see his friends. He was happy that they were here. She'll be here. He thought to himself. She'll be here soon. He was sure of it.
He checked his watch. Again and again. Then he checked the clock on the wall. Not quite believing that it was almost time to leave. Where is she? He tried calling her, but her phone was off the hook. Was she avoiding him? He wouldn't be surprised, he knew her all too well.
Suddenly, he heard his name ring in his ear. It was her! She came after all! He was certain of it. He held his breath as he turned around, frantically searching for any signs of her in the mass of people. She was nowhere to be seen. A rush of frustration and disappointment boiled up in him, he wanted to scream his lungs out but decided that he was much too tired already. Could his mind be playing tricks on him? Was he going mad?
He waited, he really did wait for her to come.
He was the last one to board the ship, the most hesitant one to leave.
He didn't understand why she wasn't here, to see him off. She knew he was leaving today, he told her himself. Didn't she want to say goodbye, at the very least?
With one last hopeful glimpse at the crowd, he decided that she wasn't coming after all.
It took everything in him to step aboard the ship.
He felt for sure that his heavy heart would somehow sink the ship itself. He waited for the sirens to go off, but like her, it never happened.
As he sat himself down in his small confined excuse for a room, he began leafing through the old newspapers on the table. He needed a distraction. Anything. Anything to let it hurt less inside.
Mechanically, he wiped away a tear in an effort to hide it from the world. He couldn't bring himself to cry.
***
Diana
I looked into the mirror and found a stranger staring back. I didn't recognize the face in the reflection, the image registered nothing in my head. That girl in the glass couldn't be me... could it? Her hair was a disheveled mess, a few stray strands sticking out in all the wrong places. I found myself reaching out my hand, trying to tame her wild hair down for her, but my fingers only clash into the cold glass. I blinked and I saw that she too, blinked. That's when my attention shifted to her eyes. They were red and puffy, I guess she must have cried herself to sleep last night. There was a sadness radiating out of them, unmistakably so. Beyond her eyes, her cheeks were pale and tear-stained. Another sure sign that she did weep the night before. Her lips could have made a pretty smile, but now they were united in a frown. I glanced away from the mirror, wanting to erase the girl's image from my mind.
I shook my head, trying to clear out the imaginary cobwebs that had somehow formed in my skull overnight. The room I was standing in was a blur, I was feeling more than just groggy. I touched my palm to my forehead and quickly came to a conclusion. Just as I had suspected, my head was scorching hot. I was coming down with something ugly. I looked into the mirror again, I saw that I was still wearing yesterday's clothes. A crinkly T-shirt and a pair of ruffled jeans, quite an assemble. My outfit was still a tad damp...
I had walked home in the pouring rain. The weather matched my emotions. The howling winds, the charcoal-colored clouds, the drops of rain that came down hard, the muddy puddles beneath my feet, the rumbles of thunder in the distance, they all accompanied me as I trudged on my way. I had no destination in mind, nor did I really care, but my legs seemed to know where to bring me. Home, the voice in my head echoed.
I brushed away the moisture that was building up in and around my eyes. I couldn't tell if it was tears that were streaming down my face or just the rain, I guess it didn't matter much anymore. I couldn't even muster the strength to care anyway.
I felt nothing. Just a dull numbness throbbing in my chest. If I could assign this numbness a color, it would be a gray. A murky gray, if there is even such a color. It will be on the tip of the color spectrum, almost black yet not quite. There is some white holding it back. As if asking it not to take the plunge.. Tell me I'm not going insane. All in all, it's not the best feeling in the world to experience. I have a feeling it wouldn't look very good on canvas either, the color that is.
This very feeling, or lack there-of I should say, I was more than certain it had nothing to do with the weather. I would be willing to bet my college fund that it had little to do with the cold that was seeping right into my bones either. It had everything to do with him, though. Him. I cursed under my breath as I acknowledged this.
Nothingness. Emptiness. This must be how it feels like to have one's heart broken. This must be how it feels to have one's vital organ trampled over, and shredded into a million pieces, never to be mended. Remind me to never wear my heart on my sleeve ever again. I'm not sure if the initial euphoria of falling in love is worth the end product - the pain and numbness of a broken heart.
***
James
Screaming
I reach
Into the depths of my soul
I feel
Nothing but pain
Overwhelming
It burns so
Sobbing
I am overcome
My gut is wrenched
My heart is rent
I cannot feel hope
Choking
My mind explodes
I hear nothing but screams
My heart pounds
My limbs tremble
I take a deep breath
Subsiding
I look into the mirror
A lonely wreck stares back at me
Silently
The pain is palpable
The grief constant
My world has crumbled
I feel hollow
Lost for words
Shaken to the core
I will never love again
***
Dear Diana,
I wish
I could
Turn back time
Change the past
Do it all over again
I wish
I could
Right the wrongs
Mend the damage
Try again
I wish
I could
Take away the pain
Heal the suffering
Make it stop hurting
I just wish
I could have
Done things differently
But now the time is past
And all that's left
Is this giant hole in my heart
I miss you.
I could
Turn back time
Change the past
Do it all over again
I wish
I could
Right the wrongs
Mend the damage
Try again
I wish
I could
Take away the pain
Heal the suffering
Make it stop hurting
I just wish
I could have
Done things differently
But now the time is past
And all that's left
Is this giant hole in my heart
I miss you.
Yours,
James
***
Dear James,
You placed the key to your heart
In my hands.
I laughed it away
in disbelief,
Breaking your heart.
It tore us apart,
And you closed up.
Why didn't you say anything?
If only you did.
I dared not tell
But I too loved you.
You never knew.
As I taught you how to cry,
You taught my heart how to bleed.
In my hands.
I laughed it away
in disbelief,
Breaking your heart.
It tore us apart,
And you closed up.
Why didn't you say anything?
If only you did.
I dared not tell
But I too loved you.
You never knew.
As I taught you how to cry,
You taught my heart how to bleed.
Yours,
Diana
Diana
***
Diana,
I'm sorry. Can you ever forgive me?
James
***
James,
I was wrong too. There is nothing to forgive. I love you.
Diana
One year later...
***
PART II
PART II
One year later...
Marshall
I scanned the crowd hurriedly, eager to catch a glimpse of her. It had been so long. What would she look like now? Had she missed me as badl- Bah, fanciful thinking. Why didn't that vain hope ever diminish? Those months overseas hadn't cured me of my infatuation as I had hoped it would. She never was mine. She was his. Without any warning, a wave of disappointment flooded me over.
As I attempted to swallow the knot in my throat, she appeared. Her face aglow, she skipped towards me with a dazzling smile. Before she could detect any sign of my depression, I had plastered a grin onto my face and stuck out my hand in an awkward attempt to shake hers.
"Marshall! I was expecting something more - like a hug, perhaps?" She remarked uncertainly, grinning as usual while giving me a half-hearted handshake.
Chuckling uncomfortably, I obliged. Boy, she felt so good to the touch - she even smelt so good...
"Um, you don't want to let go, huh? Fine with me. I don't really feel like letting go just yet, either," She was teasing now, the soft edge in her voice barely perceptible. Or was that just my imagination playing up again? I snapped out of my reverie and broke off all contact by taking an abrupt step backward.
"Sorry. It feels good to be home. Glad to see you."
"You look as good as ever. Come, let's go meet the others."
We made small talk along the way. I tried to keep my tone upbeat and light to match hers - it wouldn't do for her to sense something was wrong, anyway.
Inside, I felt morose. I kept pace with her quickening step as she neared our circle of friends. And him. Trying not to watch - and failing ultimately - her slip her hand into his, I acknowledged the fanfare of "welcome back!"s and drowned myself in all the attention showered upon me. It was a welcome distraction. I avoided looking in her direction. Their direction.
They say the worst way to miss a person is to be close to them, yet know that you can't have them. The painful blow of this realization left a throbbing ache in my heart - an ache that only intensified now that I was back home. The worst part wasn't the resentment I felt against him, it was the fact that he was a decent guy, and that both of them looked so happy together. They almost glowed in each other's presence. Ignoring the cliche statement that the noblest way to love a person would be to let them go, I couldn't help but wish I was in his place, holding her hand. So I got to hold her for a few seconds, while what I really wanted was to hold her forever. How ironic. Maybe it would have been less painful if she hadn't hugged me.
"So, I'll see you guys later. Good to have you back, Marshall."
She blew me a flying kiss, fluttering her fingers goodbye as they turned to walk off.
I surreptitiously caught that kiss, hid it in my greying heart and watched her retreating figure.
***
Diana
"...so Bobby's going to be fine. She just has to keep an eye on him."
"Uhm."
I suppressed an exasperated sigh, trying to keep my tone nonchalant as I lowered the menu and looked at him. His face unreadable, he stared down at the menu. He'd been staring at the same spot - No. 21 Cappucino Latte - for a few minutes now. Almost as if he was observing some change in those letters. This had to be the ninth time he replied me with an "uhm".
"Oh, and they also found an elephant in their fridge stealing their cheese and milk."
"So what about the ele-"
I'd slid into his couch before he realized what he'd said and started. He turned to face me like a dazed man who'd barely woken up from a dream.
"You're distracted."
I loosened his tie and sat back.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"It's nothing."
"Relax. Come on, something's bothering you."
I moved closer and angled myself into a position to massage his shoulders. He shrugged me off gently. I recoiled as though I'd been slapped. Something was really wrong. Something I didn't know about. Something he didn't want me to know about. I tried again in a calmer, steadier tone, swallowing my displeasure and keeping my hands to myself this time.
"Hey, I know something's wrong. You don't have to lie to me, you know? What's going on?"
"Never mind. Have you decided what you want? Maybe we should place our orders now."
I went back to my side of the couch, my imagination running wild with all sorts of unpleasant notions. I hated it when he did that. I hated the insecurity that came with being unsure; I hated knowing I wasn't privy to his thoughts. I hated feeling like I was being pushy. I hated feeling like I was losing touch...losing touch...losing touch...
No. No.
I woke up with a start, my heart beating rapidly. It was just a dream. Just a nightmare. Just paranoia. Just...nothing.
Or was it?
***
He looked at her smiling face across the table. She was laughing, constantly moving, never sitting still. Her excited chatter filled the room.
She looked at him with laughter in her eyes. Her eyebrows asked a silent question.
He smiled back, to show that everything was alright. But even as he smiled, he wondered if his smile was sincere. Was everything really alright? He did a cursory examination of themselves and the past few days and couldn't see any cause for concern. Yet deep down inside he knew that something was out of place. He should be happy, but he wasn't. She was the girl of his dreams, beautiful in every way, and she loved him. She loved him. He still hadn't gotten over that bewildering, astonishing fact yet. And so he should be happy. But he wasn't. Why wasn't he happy??
His mind flashed back to the conversation they'd had a couple of days ago. "If we can remember the one thing that each of us loves most about the other," she had said, "I believe that we can get through anything."
Anything. That single word repeated itself over and over again in his mind. Anything. He wanted to believe it. No, he needed to believe it. This relationship meant more to him than any other he had experienced. With her, he experienced emotions and feelings so strong, so clear, that they completely overwhelmed him. Within the short time they had known each other, she had come to mean more to him then anything else in the world.
"You stole my heart," she had teased. "But I left mine behind," he had replied jokingly. But only now did he begin to understand what those words left unsaid. A feeling of utter vulnerability. They had come to mean so much to each other that the notion of the relationship not working out was terrifying. "Love is fragile," someone had once said to him. He had not understood then, believing that true love could withstand anything. But he understood now. Even the strongest and surest of relationships contained, at least in the beginning, an element of uncertainty. It was a paradox, really. The stronger the love that one feels for the other, the greater the uncertainty, vulnerability, fragility. Uncertainties that only time could dismiss. And all of a sudden he understood.
He was scared. He was afraid, frightened, terrified. Terrified that it wouldn't work out. Terrified that it was just a passing phase.
"I know," a voice said in his ear. He started and turned. She had suddenly appeared by his side.
"You're afraid," she said. "Of us."
He shook his head in astonishment. "You constantly amaze me, you know. The way you so easily read my mind."
She smiled. Then her face became serious, and she leaned in closer.
"I'm scared too," she whispered.
He turned towards her, his eyes full of questions. But she shook her head.
"Shhh," she said softly. "It's alright. I believe that together we can get through anything. I believe."
He smiled.
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