CHAPTER 3: STRAIT-JACKET

CHAPTER 3: STRAIT-JACKET

             

          'Misery is a just a way of dying.

             It doesn't matter if you stop breathing or not.  

                  You just...die.' 

            -Azalea-

 

CONNOR

A girl was sent to a garden. She was asked to take the most beautiful flower she could see, but there's a catch. She can only move forward, and she can't look back to pick the flower she left behind. With that, she went and she saw many, many beautiful flowers. But she said.. 

 

'There must prettier ones up at the front,' 

 

So, she moved on until she realized...she was already at the end of the garden. She can't go back. And when she was asked why she didn't have a flower, she said that she thought there would alot more at the front.  

 

 Do you remember this, Lea?

 

Can you see, how careless we can be? How we so easily overlooked the many things that could bring your heart perfection.

 

You're my beautiful flower; my perfection. And I don't want to go further and lose you. 

 

And I don't want you to lose me when you finally realize this.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Poverty.

 

He had suffered it in many ways possible. There was no borderline as to how many misery it can provoke out of him. One of it being his heart. His heart...where should he even begin? There were hardly any of its broken pieces left. But then if it was given back to him in a complete whole, he would not think twice about throwing it out out again on his own accord. In fact he'll make sure that it would be thrown as far away as it could possibly go. It was too late for fate or destiny or any damn miracle to intervene. There was no space for it anymore. If his heart was going to be the reason he hesitates, then he won't think twice about devoiding it from his being. 

 

Doubts....fears...limitations, they don't exist anymore. Where they used to echoe, now resonates silence and peace. And he was glad he'd learned that from her. Because he did all this for her. Just beat her in this sick game of emotions. Just to have her say the very thing he'd fought to seize from her. And he wasn't afraid to play dirty. The question was, how far would he let himself go? How far would she let him go?

 

Standing in front of the Alfa Bank ATM machine, he buried half of his face underneath the scarf that wound his neck. His empty thoughts ticked like a metronome monotonously. His prediction of a tame weather was deceived by the strong wind and sprinkling snow. The quiet city was even quieter now that it was almost dark. The transaction took longer than expected and he was getting more irritated by each passing seconds. Leaning over the machine, he took out his phone and scrolled down before calling out a number. After the 5th ring, someone finally picked it up. 

 

"Hello?" rasped a deep voice. The sound lagged as expected of an international call. Coonor tried looked out to the street and calculated the possibiities that he could've dialled the wrong number from the unfamiliar sound of the voice.

 

"Latif?" he asked. 

 

"Who's this?" asked the man on the other side groggily. Connor almost smiled, confirming the identity of the caller. He was getting a mental picture of that long-lost friend already. Latif was never the type of person you want to wake from his sleep. You either get a kick in the gut or an 'accidental' slap on the face.  He'd experienced it first-hand. And it hurt like hell.

 

"Latif...can you hear me...hey...it's Connor," 

 

"Wha....huh?"

 

"Connor...Connor. Connor Gordon?" he repeated and suddenly feeling like a foolshouting over the phone.

 

"Connor? Connor who?" 

 

He let out a tired breath. 

 

"Latif...this is Connor. Your friend?" 

 

"Connor? I don't know any Con...er...Connor? Wait...isn't he in Rus..." Latif paused in mid-sentence. Connor was left to listened to a scandalized gasp, followed by strings of curses. "Connor ! You son of a...!" Latif finally exclaimed in realization, nearly costing him his hearing. "Oh...damn."

 

"Finally! I was beginning to fear for mental health," 

 

"Sorry, old man. I'm beat all the time nowadays. Flying is literally killing my memory. You'd never guess how horrible it is flying until you try the 747. The pressure...urrghh...worse than jetting out the A400," Latif laughed over the phone. The sound rang through in echoes. For the infinitesimal count in their 5 years of friendship, he felt a dash of jealousy. Life was doing Latif good...a luxury he can't afford. Not when he was trying so hard running after an undetermined cause. "How are you? I mean...how's life in Russia? Hooked up to any chicks with unpronounceable names yet? Hahaha!"  

 

"Haha...no. But thing's are good. How are you? Married yet?" he managed to joke. But his laughter felt too pretentious. Too tired.  

 

"Heck no. Eventhough my mom's gone mad tagging photos of her friends' daughters at MY Facebook profile! It was damn embarassing, man. You should've seen what my friends wrote on my wall after that. You'd think I'm desperate to get married. What is it with moms and matchmaking?" he complained without a second thought. "But you! Don't try to get out of topic. How are you coping? Got connected with anyone special there?" Latif asked. For awhile, he'd want to feel the normal embarassment and the familiar shame of being told out on his feelings for someone. Even so, his circumstances were out of Latif's logic. And he knew Latif was not referring to the same woman who plague his brain now. Compared to what Latif could be wondering, his feelings were nothing so carefree. Nothing so innocent anymore. The past seemed to be the only figment of normalcy left of him in their memories. He was glad.  

 

"No. I don't think it's time yet. Things are just a little complicated at the moment," 

 

"Keep telling yourself that. How's work there anyway? Found any good proposition?"  

 

"Not really. But I got small jobs doing some ghosties. Good enough. Which is why I'm calling. I just banked in the money I owe you for the plane tickets,"  

 

"What? Hey, I thought I told you not to. Come on, man. This ain't cool!" Latif cut out immediately, not pleased. "It's like almost 2 month ago and it's free anyway. Why bother?" 

 

"Nah. Can't sleep at night thinkin' 'bout it. And you're gonna be the reason MAS is going down," he tried to joke to ease the tension building. Latif had always been sensitive when it comes to people paying back his deeds. "Anyway, my mom will bug me about it," 

 

"You guys are gettin' old, man. Look at Hafiz and Adam. It used to be bros before hoes. Now it's all about new handbags and picnics. I don't get any football action anymore. And it's showing on my waistline, dude!" Latif ranted. It was understandable. They grew up. Connor tried to settle in the content feelings that he'd left some time ago. Back in the days when he was just someone who struggled forgetting how horrible life was at home by staying away from it. "So when are you coming back? I thought you still wanna give flying a go after graduation," 

 

"Maybe. But not now. There's just alot of things going on now," he replied, realizing that the transaction was done over the ATM screen. Glancing at his watch, he was surprised that it was almost 7 pm. Cursing his luck at the untimely moment, he made jogged to his car at the other side of the road after snatching the ATM card. "Hey, bro. I gotta scram now. It's getting dark and it's gonna snow like crazy tonight. I better get going before the snow buries me alive," 

 

"Hah. I'm letting you go this time. Don't forget to call once in a while. My sis had been asking about you and it's freakin' me out. Anyway...take care," 

 

Getting off the phone seemed to be the hardest thing. To be reminded and to pretend that everything was fine and not as screwed up was almost impossible. Things that changed can't be undone. He ran away and he didn't think he could turn back anymore. Sliding into the driver's seat, he pulled off his glove, and read the scribble on his left palm.  

 

'7.30 pm, 7th St. post drop,' 

 

He stared at his own scrawled handwriting and took out 2 brown envelopes from his dashboard before writing the adresses by heart. Stashing it back into the dashboard, he started his engine and drive leisurely down the road, taking his time before finding the letter post drop; just a few blocks up the bank. Without wasting any time,he went straight for the letter drop to post the letters, thus, ending his task for the day. He'd think that the heavy feelings that stir inside him when he last did this would disappear. In reality, they don't. They just...made him numb. Cause he can't feel fear no more. A few weeks back, he would've been hesitant, reluctant and doubtful. But now, he lost the fear and most of all, the guilt of whatever he was doing. Fear was suddenly too ridiculous compared to the reason why he was doing what he did.  

 

Regrets?  

 

None.  

 

There was no reason to feel that way. He was a goner. He had disappeared from himself for a long long time already. And being heartless and cornered this way, didn't make him feel like he was living just to die. Now, he was stronge than ever. Being locked up with no choice liberated parts of himself that he didn't know. All because of her. She made it impossible for him to die. She gave him a place to return to and a reason not to die first before knowing that she would be alright. In fact, he didn't want to die now knowing that she will always be there. And he would do anything, just about anything to make her see that he was worth her heart.

 

~*~

 

"Here," 

 

She stared at the shopping bags he placed in front of her. She looked up at him but he left the bags there and disappeared into the bathroom. Not moving an inch, she stared at the oversized paper bags and suspected that they might be clothes - judging from the scent of the bags and the designs. She took a deep breath and let out soundless sigh. A few hours ago, she was almost out of her mind with fear. But her heart settled down a little bit when she heard the sound of clinking keys and door opened beyond the white prison she was in.  

 

He was home. 

 

She woke up late in the evening yesterday; judging from the reddish line in the sky, finding herself alone. It was a relief for her. There were times when he was not around for the night. It gave her a little dose of escape. She had her moment of solitude. Even with some books left for her she couldn't bring herself to indulge the pieces of the world outside and be reminded of her imprisonment. There were blank papers but no pen for her to write. She'd figured that, he would've known that  she contemplate stabbing him with it. That was the only reason she could think of. And a piano was a much farther illusion that can never materialize. Remembering everything that used to be everything to her made her heart bleed. All those things that she loved and eventually lost became her biggest regret. She regretted not loving everything enough. In the end, she resorted into tearing some empty papers she found stuck in between the books. The small pieces of papers withered onto the pile of books nicely like white flowers. It reminded her of the times when she worked at a soil lab almost a year ago, tearing ashless clippings. She was tempted to throw all the petals in the air and danced in the make-believe snow. For the moment, it made her smile. For that tiny moment, she wanted to make-believe that she was outside, playing under the snow. 

 

After some long hours since she wake, until the lavendar touched the sky, she started feeling uneasy. Worried. Distraught. He was usually always around by then after a no-show. Her innoccent reasonings stretch from the could-be traffic jam to a freak accident.  And for a second, she had the wildest thought that something happened to him and she was left to rot there without anyone knowing. Or maybe, he just lost his interest left her for to die. Her heart was suddenly filled with fitful fears. She was driving herself crazy. And she was aware of it.  Drove to the edge of relevance, she forced herself to eat what was left for her. Half through with the sandwich, she made a mad dash to the bathroom and vomitting her acidic gut out. It hurts so much and she was suddenly aware of it. This had reached the point of unbearable routine but at the moment, she was for once, sober to feel the excruciating pain. Every muscle just cramp like she was at the verge of losing her spirit. She realized that there was a thin string that was holding herself back from really losing it. She didn't know when it'll break and left her for the dead. The pain she felt physically and mentally was suddenly so unbearable at that moment that she wished Connor was there. Even if he wasn't in the room, knowing he was just at the other side of the door gave her a sort of completion in the picture. Even if he left her alone to play with her paranoia and endless delusional cycles. 

 

The sound of coughing snapped her thoughts. Connor came out of the bathroom shirtless with his head buried under a blue towel. The evening was creeping into the night and he was just a grey fraying shadow. He ruffled his hair without care for the poorly heated air. The cold never seemed to bother him. But then, he never seemed to be bothered with anything. It scared her how he infected her with his many contradicting behaviour. She was assilimating. And she knew he was too. She was just sorry she played with the wrong heart. Something so pure and innocent, now so tainted and dirty, broken and corrupted. Things had become so evil that she was left with little choice. It was another big regret that she knew would never go away. Leaning back on the headboard, she closed her eyes in infinite tire.  

 

"Lea,"  

 

She snapped open her eyes and saw him sitting beside the bed, holding one of the bags. Her jaws locked as she saw him taking out a clothing from the bag. She can't remember the last thing she wore before she woke up in that place. She came there with nothing of her own. It overwhelmed her how he came in with the scent of the outside world, bringing in things she haven't seen for quiet some time.  

 

"Here...wear this," he urged, putting the creamy white article on her laps. She just stared at the folded cloth. Disinterested but alarmingly curious. Many days ago, she might've screamed him to go to hell. But she was never able to pull that stunt for long. It was too tiring. Being mad all the time was too tiring. Now, she only wanted to know everything. Where he got all the things that he brought back. Why he was wasting all that on her? None of the things he brought back looked cheap. While she was lost, Connor seemed to lost his patience and pulled her to her feet before stripping her out of his white shirt that she was wearing. She cringed in shock, letting the curtain of her long hair to cover her bare limbs. He didn't faze. Pulling some other bags, he rummaged through everything and put a singlet of over her head to cover her naked body. The size too big and she suspected that it was meant for him. Then, he helped her wear the shirt he gave her. It was a long sleeved knitted wool and it instantly warmed her. Pulling her body closer to him, he bent down and urged her to step into another cloth which turned out to be a skirt. She gripped his shoulders to keep from falling.  

 

"There," he announced, pushing her a step back to take a look. "Is it warmer?" he asked. She gulped and pulled at the sleeves. He stared at her reassuringly, like she would break down anytime. "You look very pretty," he said again with a thin smile, caressing her cheek. She could barely feel the touch but she flinched. Connor pulled back immediately and went to the small wooden dresser that was place just opposite the bed. Not before she saw the lost look in his face. He returned back to her with a box of what seemed to be food. The warm familiar scent of fries got her insides twisted. It hit her like a train. He smiled as he sat down on the floor, inviting her to join him. She hesitated at first but her heart tugged her soft instincts. His black eyes sparkled like that of a child. Connor opened the box, revealing sandwiches with overflowing insides and fries. Her throat clogged from a strange beat in her chest.  

 

"Eat them. They're still hot," he said, picking a fry. "You like fries, right?" he asked, munching on the piece. She stared at the food and saw an endless weariness in his child-like behaviour. She was hungry but she didn't feel like eating. She hated how he made her head rang with a very annoying feeling. Connor took one of the fries and settled it under her lips, urging her to eat. She blinked a surprise and turned away. The sad smile turned into grimace as his hand slowly fell away. 

 

"Maybe...you want to eat them later?" he asked hesitantly, gently. But the feelings came across so loud and clear.

 

Stop. 

 

"Do you need to drink? There's some tea,"  

 

Please. It hurts.

 

"Lea?" 

 

"Stop," she gasped, clutching her chest. "Please...stop," Looking away from him, she aggressively fought remorse. "You have to stop this," she said, blinking back tears. He stared at her like she'd said nothing at all. "This is wrong. It's not righ...it's nott...you shouldn't be doing this. It's...," 

 

"Lea," 

 

"No, listen! I know...it was all my fault. I shouldn't have promised," she muttered senselessly, feeling him coming closer. He was going to stop her. But she had to get it out. Unconsciously, she slid back away. She didn't want him to stop anything she was about to say. She didn't want him to touch her and make her forget everything she needed to say. She had to make him listen. "I shouldn't have led you on. It's my fault," The air was colder. It was weird how it was always at this time and moment that they'll be in this kind of situation. Like a ghost that haunts the same ground, letting death kill her many times over. She was in pain. But she can't stop. "It has always been my fault," 

 

He didn't say a word. He didn't stop reaching out no matter how much she cringed away. Her chest hurt from the erratic beat of her heart.

 

"Please stop, Connor," she whispered. "I'm not strong," 

 

Just let me die. 

 

"I can't stand this,"

 

Their unlikely mistake; she would want to correct it. Their unrepented sins; she was willing to carry it. It was not his fault that he would try to sought her out for a careless promise she made almost 2 years ago. It was not anyone's fault that it was difficult to love her. And it was nobody's fault that she was a lonely girl that stirred herself crazy with wants that can't be fulfilled. And it was definitely no anyone's fault that she was unable to love. She planted her palm onto the floor to support herself. She could see her tears falling onto the floor like rain. No, she practically hear them. 

 

"Let me go, Connor"  

 

Connor pressed his temples.  

 

"I'm tired, Lea," he sighed. "Not now,"  She gritted her teeth from irritation that gnawed itself further. Why was she begging? She slapped his hand that reached out for her. It hurts her to see the pain in his eyes but she didn't want to care.  

 

"Please, just let me go. I've given you everything," she sobbed. He had taken her in so many times. Taken her in every single way possible that she couldn't think what else she can give. She pride herself in never letting herself change. But things will change. Circumstances will change. But this, this brief relationship, will never have ever have a good end. There's no such things as happy endings. Definitely not with them. 

 

"You know that's not what I wanted," 

 

A silent anger bubbled and she knew she can't say anything against it. Staggering to stand up, she slapped away the books piling at the corner of the end table. The paper flowers she had been tearing flew up into the air, falling down with the motionless air. If he won't listen, she'll make him.  

 

A harsh tug crashed her into him. She closed her eyes in dizziness and confusion. Her heart beat a thousand miles faster and a familiar adrenaline rush ignited a dangerous fire. Knowing she could get hurt physically and knowing she would be fighting back all her might torched a certain dormant insanity. It was getting harder to control. And it was the feeling that she tried hard to kill. 

 

"Try remembering them. Then we'll talk." he rasped against her ear, warning her of what she was trying to sought. 

 

> [email protected]: ur just in love with the idea of being in love.  

 [email protected]: no, im not. i am in love with u 

 [email protected]: u and me 

                there will nvr be a happy ending  

               i dont believe in happy endings. 

               they're all lies... 

 [email protected]: then you should know by now that im not lying 

 [email protected]: ur young. you'll realize that this isn't worth it in the end 

 [email protected]: r u telling me that im running aftr a lose cause?? 

               dont u trust me? 

 [email protected]: i do 

 [email protected]: then why cant u jst tell me whtr u love me or not? 

 [email protected]: i can't 

               i'm sorry <

 

"I'm sorry,"

 

She whispered to his ear, as though the walls would tell on them. Turning to him, she inhaled the scent of ocean and smoke on his skin. No matter how safe it was, she knew she can't stay. She knew she can't start believing. There's a hunger that he can't sate. There's a danger that he wouldn't know. And there's a reason for her insanity. He just opened the door to the impossible. And the impossible was her naive insatiable greed.  

 

"I can't," 

 

"IAm I not good enough?" he asked, turning to her. His lips grazed the tip of her nose, buckling her knees and shivering her toes. If only her heart wasn't so cold.  

 

She swallowed a sob unsuccessfully. 

 

"How far do you want me to go?" 

 

A dare for the damned.  

 

"Please...don't try," 

 

"Don't what?" he held her closer, so close that his heartbeat and hers became a rhythmless song.  

 

Don't listen to me.  

 

Don't do anything for me.  

 

Don't believe anything I say.  

 

Don't trust anything I do. 

 

Don't...love me.  

 

All those words, stuck in her throat. She knew she had to say it out fast. But they refuse to come out.  

 

"Too late,". She held her breath, listening to his voice.

 

"You're just a little bit too late,"