Chapter 4

What meets the eyes aren't always how it seems...

A single ray of light shines over the duvet. The wind is calm, for a change. I am wide awake, and I already have my clothes for the day on; a skinny-jean and red t-shirt.

“Are you awake? Why aren’t you down yet,” my mom’s voice is sharp, and high pitch. I hit the door open with my fist, almost out of frustration. Thousands of sharp needles stick in my hand, or the pain felt that way. The pain runs the whole way up to my shoulder. “Awwwwh! S**t,” I shout as I run down the stairs. I look at my hand, to see why the pain is so intense, and look away in shock. I stand still in the hall way, the way to the kitchen feels colder and darker. A slender stream of blood drops off my hand, onto the white floor. I can hear the stream dropping on the floor, my hand throbbing with pain. I stare into the bright light coming from the kitchen, nothing going into my head. Time is standing still; I feel nothing, not even the wind brushing my arm ever so slightly.

“Where are...” my mother sees me standing in the passage, the free-flowing stream dropping to the floor catches her eyes. “What happened? What did you do now? Come here,” She says in an almost calm voice, but her eyes are stressed out, moving from the one side to the other in quick jerks. She grabs me by the wrists, pulling me towards the kitchen. The water running on my hand sends stings up into my arm.

“Can’t you be more careful,” I shout to her, the water flowing strongly over the wound on my fingers. A loose piece of skin flaps around in the water, hurting me more than ever. I jerk my hand out of the water, “I had enough,” drops of red water fall on the ground. The pain has not gone away, it is even worse than before. I look at my hand; there is only a small scratch.

“You’re such a mommy’s boy, you know that,” she says with her hand rubbing my hair, a smile on her face, wrinkles almost covering her entire face. “Here, take this,” her small hand, looking younger than the rest of her body, giving me a bandage.

I wrap it tight around the wound, stinging a bit at the beginning but the pain ceases.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The shout comes from the kitchen, like always.

“I... erm, am... to the shop,” the reply way softer than it should have been. “To the shop, sorry,” I say louder.

“Buy me a pack of cigarettes,” a cold voice shouts from the kitchen. The front door opens slowly, driving through the trench it dug over the years. The summer sun hits my skin the first step I give out of the safety of the shadows. It burns my pale skin every step I take forward.

I hate this part of town. I start to walk slowly, keeping an eye out for anything strange. White walls change into brown brick walls, vast crystal windows turns into small cracked windows, one or two dogs turn into groups of them. Clean cars turn into broken down vans. Friendly people disappear, and all the eyes follow me as I walk on the ground path. Joyful screams turn into screams driven my fear. Trees turn into nothing at all; all the homes are stacked onto each other.

My eyes look forward, sternly, not leaving the safety of the ground in front of me. A single white home stands out on the end of the street. High wooden gates, the number 8 painted red. I open the gate slowly, locking it after entering the paved ground. Blue stripes cover the friendly door, the golden knob calling my name to turn it. I take my left hand, avoiding the right, bruised hand. The knock echoes, startling a sleeping couple across the street. The door opens...

Black eyes look past me, wrinkles cover almost every part of his face. White cracks hide the pink flesh of his lips. Single strings of grey hair are hidden behind his left ear. His nose moves slowly, up and down, breathing in the polluted air of the neighbourhood. Big and strong hands still hold on to the doorknob from the inside. He is really tall, a giant standing in the porch, blocking the way into the house.

“Hello, is Jessi here?”

My voice feels small against the size of his body. His eyes are fixed on something on the other side of the road, not looking at me once, not moving his head slightly. “Can I see Jessi please,” I ask with plead in my voice. No movement at all, his figure strong and firm.

“Dad, snap out of it,” Jessica’s voice is soft behind the huge piece of flesh. Her smile is still big on her face, never disappearing for more than a minute. The pink skirt covers a small portion of her upper legs, leaving most of her olive tone skin visible. The blue shirt is tight around the curves of her body, the straps of her bra sticking out on her shoulders. Her curls, long blond hair, cover most part of her back, just some of the lonely strings moving to the front of her face. The blue eyes shine in the bright day light, reflecting the light into my eyes. My heart skips a beat when I see her in the full sun light. The same clothes as in the dream...

“Yes, you turned into ash, and the wind blew you away. You had precise the same clothes on. And no I am not joking,” I say with a hint of disturbance in my voice.

“I bought the clothes yesterday, you haven’t seen them; I don’t understand,” confusion in her voice. Her eyes look into the ground in front of her. “What happened to your hand,” she asks after a couple of minutes. I look at my hand, with total absence I take off the bandage. It takes the loose skin with it, hurting my hand like a thousand needles. I sit up straight, looking at my hand with disgust.

“I forgot about it, I think I cut it on my door, but I really don’t know how it happened,” small drops of blood form where the bandage was pulled from. “It is still raw I think, and very sore. I don’t know why I pulled the bandage off like that,” I look in her eyes, trying to smile, only producing a spastic move in my lip. She kisses me on the cheek while I wrap the bandage over my hand again. The room smells of strawberries, the pink curtains swinging a little bit on their chains in the slight breeze. Small white clouds form over the ocean in the distance. I look in her eyes again, seeing the hurt behind the smile. I see the tears in the back of the deep blue eyes, always trying to smile.

She gets up from the bed, and sits on my lap. My hands move the back of her skirt, holding her upright. She looks me in the eyes, not smiling anymore. Her eyes are tight, luring me out. Cold chills move down my back, her nails tickling my back. Her hands are cold, moving slowly up and down. She lays forward, her warm breath touching my nose. Locks of her hair fall into my face, prickling my cheeks. I smile slowly, nervously. A single ray of sunlight shine on her blond curls, making it gloss.

Her hair is in my face, almost blocking out all the other images around me. Warm breathes tingle my nose, moving ever so slightly over the contours of my nose. It smells of mint. I close my eyes; slowly our lips meet each other. Her hands are in my t-shirt, moving slowly its way up and down, the single hairs standing up. Her skirt moves gradually upwards as we kiss, moving slowly back and forwards. The cold breeze cools down our scorching bodies. I lay on top of her, her hair hanging freely over the pillow.

The door bursts open, almost breaking it off the hinges. In the door frame, like earlier, a tall figure stands. Eye as cold as the morning breeze over the ocean. Wrinkles form around his lips as he bites down on his teeth. The occasional twitch in his nose keeps my eyes busy. He doesn’t move. We both sit up straight, as quick as possible. After the five-minute silence, the looking in each other’s eyes, he walks over the wooden floor. The creaking of the old building breaks the silence. He takes her by the wrist, pulling her violently over the floor. I stand up and run out of the door, but I am too late, he already has her down the stairs.

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© 2011 ((Teenage_Poet_Loser))

Author's Note

HAVENT reread the story... But please if you can help me with the grammer and tenses again =] really appreciated! =D will give u a chocolate chip coooki =D