Let This be the Last Time

A breath A miracle A farewell And the time has stopped To start again

Sophia and Mason are your average young couple. But, she is a victim of a crime. And a last fight is all it takes for her to confess all she saw that night to the police. She is offered a change of identity, and protection because the man they're searching for is known to be dangerous. She takes the offer and everything is set for her new life after the last court. A life without Mason, thousands of miles away. She goes on for a couple of years. Then, another boy is chasing her for faked love. But, who is this boy really? He has unknown past. And what will happen if Mason suddenly appears in her life again and tells her he's been searching for her all his life? This is a story of love being punctured by bloody knifes from dirty crimes.

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Loud music 

From rock to romantic 

And then the absence of someone 

Like always,

That feeling 

She would always wait

The green chair shaped like a circle twirled around and it twirled. It went round and round. She could not tell if it was going in circles or triangles or octagons. Who cares? Well, she must have really cared since she was thinking about it. A bottle of Whiskey in her hand. Who would bother to get a glass cup? Well, definitely not her. Another huge gulp. She could not tell if she was the star of the night; all the heads crowded and blurred in her vision, as if there were making fun of the coward she is not? She could not tell if anybody actually gave a crap about her, because she sure didn't. Or was it just the sweat, she was sweating? She could not tell if she felt her makeup (and her makeup was extraordinary a lot) on her eyes smearing or was it her unknown tears. Her red as blood lipstick was glued on the bottle top every time she took a sip. Or she thought. She might have wished it was always like this (if she had her senses); nothing fully understood. But distractions always got in the way of letting her be free to herself. She hated everything from those rich carpets and fabrics of silk to humans and their bewitched minds. To... Caterpillars! However, I can not say Butterflies because she, herself wasn't sure, due to their extraordinary beauty.  

"Sophia come on, get up! You've been sitting on this stupid chair being depressed and drinking ever since you came. Get up and meet new people. Party like you're single and laugh! Show Mason that you don't need him." Oh but how much I do need him.

A demanding friend Mia is with her orange, short, curly hair and her tiny height. Nothing mentioned about Sophia's need of "face remodeling". She grabbed Sophia's hand. Sophia fallowed, by force. By force or what? She could not tell. Those so high noises of those so high heels she hated when she was a little girl came as she stepped on the wooden floor. One by one. Sometimes it helped her anger when she pressed her feet down with those heels on the floor and inside of her bones would hurt like they have faced death. Sophia looked like death itself. So tired and sleepy. Tired from everything. Trying to hide, find a place and just block out all the world. Even a key to a secret and imaginary place where there is no exit of land would suffice. If not herself, her bones may believe that death is a completely different obstacles than compared to high heels. In this case comparing high heels to death is just laughable. Remember: in this case.

After about five or six steps she was forced or what? Or maybe given the signal from her nerves to stop walking. Her stomach felt like it had turned upside down. Maybe it had...

"Are you okay?"

A question. She could not tell if it was a question to be relieved that she was fine or something more stupid? A question. No, the question itself is stupid. Both the questions. Is the question itself selfish? Selfish. Another stupid question. A nod, a cringe, a breath, a hand and a face expression was all. Maybe more. Maybe not.

Mia came forward and hugged Sophia caressing her hair. Sophia felt like she was a little girl again. Her daddy's little princess. Once again, Little Sophi. But you see, these kind of feelings only last for a certain amount of time after the age of not feeling them anymore. But definitely less than a minute; Maybe less than a second. Maybe half a second or maybe half a minute. The doorbell rang. 

"Ah! That's Mike. I'll get the door." She said still caressing Sophia. Happiness filled her; you could tell from every little or big detail. Right now from her basic smile to her lightened cherry voice to her glowing eyes.

"Go." The only word Sophia had managed to get out this whole night.

Then a small, little, tiny smile. She could not tell, maybe remember if it was a fake smile or what. Nonetheless it was a smile. Mia turned back and looked at Sophia.

"Wait! Is that a smile I see?" Mia said. The door bell rang again.

"Go!" Sophia said again with her clouded and painful voice. Every time she spoke it hurt her, or maybe it just hurt her throat. She faked another wider smile. She felt sleepy. Maybe her eyes did.

Mia and Mike were making out now. They're what you call 'a perfect couple.' But, you see they're just not perfect like everything else isn't. Everything infinite. I mean they're perfect for each other but, they often fight a lot. Maybe, it's just meant to be this way. 

Sophia could not remember how she got out of that wild house. Her feet carried her; or her bones did or maybe her nerves. 

 

"What did that Jerk Mason do now?" Mike asked.

"He's just a jerk like you Mike." Mia said. Mike rolled his eyes.

"You have no humor." She said and left him there.

But both knew well that he might have the best humor ever created; they just weren't reminded then. The rest of the night he would also take Sophia's seat and get drunk. Then be carried to the guests room, in the end of the party. Singing desperately of his love to Mia, and she smiled as she covered him in white sheets in the bed. Then, headed off to her own room. 

***    

Sophia walked and walked. So tired, lazy, and so deathly. And definitely sad, like she must blurt out crying into an ocean of tears any second; though no one knows what kept her. Maybe be it was the alive trees? Or olive trees? Or perhaps the greenful cherry trees? Who knows? Or the fact that she was so tired. Somewhere she landed. Threw herself on the wall and slid down. Down and down. She curled there. Left rotten, hurt, and bleeding. She fell asleep soon. Or so we thought. 

Another man -very muscular, tall and mad-looking at the moment- came down the street walking like he was about to question someone. He saw the curled ball that looked like a porcelain doll in the corner. He couldn't help it. Just a tear was all. He erased it with the back of his hand. But, when he would have his privacy all to himself he would also bleed. A true couple would share their pain and be in pain both. Half he would suffer and half she would suffer. Only then, it would be complete.  

He's smell as he carried me on his warm chest made me feel safe and home. You know how they say that sunshine and city lights will guide you home? No, city lights only scared me to hell. Where I could scream and scream then be forced to sleep crying and humming to pat, pet, or caress myself the loneliness. Where all the chaos is. Though my life itself is a chaos. But, I know in the end everything will just be fine. Just fine.        

 

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