Ten: Coming Home
817 Words
It's beautiful.
Are these his works? Damn, the demigod is talented. I've noticed that he did many sketches of the same girl from the portrait, about eleven of them.
Is she his muse or something?
I wonder what the color of her eyes or her hair. This is beautiful – she’s beautiful. Even in the black stroke of the pencil her eyes looks alive. Splendid. The sketches were detailed, and passionately made. I wonder who she is... is she someone important to Zack? Is she his girlfriend?
"What're you doing?" Zack was standing a few feet away from me. His eyes were wide with anger, I can feel his emotion radiates.
Shit.
"I was looking for you," I started to explain, my eyes averted. Shits on me now. This is what you get for being so nosy. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to look at your things.”
"Can you please get out of my room?" Nice. Can't he deliver it in a less humiliating way?
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” I muttered. My face heat as I walked out of his hotel room.
He was gentle, caring, and kind a while ago. What happened?
. . . .
I look both sides of the road before crossing. It was a busy street. It’s a hot day indeed. I don’t know where to go, to be honest. All I know is that I need to find the bus stop and go back to my parents’ house. I left all my money at the hotel room with a note. I have to thank him even though he was too savage before I left. This place is totally unfamiliar to me.
“Excuse me; do you know where the bus stop is?”
“Turn right on the 2nd street,” the lady said.
I thank her again after continuing to walk.
This is my entire fault. If wasn’t so nosy Zack might even give me a lift back to my parent’s house. I should really know better next time.
It was pure luck that I arrived to my destination. I was back to my parents’ front porch. I hesitantly knocked on the door, thinking that there's no going back now.
Cut the s**t, live with it.
The door sprung open and my breath hitches. My mum's eyes were glistening with tears, and I told myself not to give in. I pushed the door wide open. I stepped inside; stand next to the empty couch.
"Okay, I'll stay here. Because unfortunately, I don't have anywhere else to go," I said. Even I flinched with my irrational words, "But there are restrictions: first, I do whatever I want. Second, you are not allowed to talk to me. Third, don't assume that because I came back, I will forget… what happened," I let go of my breath that I was holding.
Her expression was unfathomable, "Darling, whatever your restrictions are, it's fine. I'll accept it, as long as you stay here," she was stepping towards me, and I realized what she was about to do. She was ready to throw her arms around me but I stepped back to avoid her.
"No physical contact," I averted my eyes. A pang of guilt strikes me. But no— I won't succumb into her.
Her face has fallen, but she was able to fake a smile. Keep acting, Ruby. That won't work. I can't quite apprehend my irrational thoughts, and it’s driving me mad. Mad not to my mum, but to myself.
"I'll prepare something to eat," she scurried into the kitchen. I feel her pain, believe me or not. But the madness inside me, the pain, and the anger doesn't lessen a bit. I have never forgotten what happened eight years ago, and I think, I never will.
I made my way to my old room; actually, it's my room again. The wallpapers were changed, which I have not noticed yesterday. Beside the window, my double-sized bed was made; the pink sheet that used to be my favorite still feels soft under my touch. At the end of my bed, the top of my dresser was deserted, except for the photos that were pinned against the frame of my mirror. A photo of me when I was ten, with my old friends, and the last was a photo of me and Tim. A mahogany cabinet on the left side of my room was still there, I opened it. My clothes were properly hanged. I guess she did it.
I lie on top of my bed, staring at the ceiling. The glow on the dark figures of a moon and stars were still attached there.
Finally, I feel fine and calm but also restless.
I need to sleep.
Yes, I need sleep.
- Writer
