When he lifted his eyes at me, I saw them filled with shock. I knew what he must’ve had been thinking about me: a blonde psycho. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t care what he thought of me. I just wanted to die.
“Look, I know you must think your life is awful now. But it’ll get better in future and wasting your youth like this will be a shame. You could be destined for something great. You just need to hold on even when the ship sinks.”
My lips curled slightly and I shrugged his hold off me.
“You’re giving me zen lessons? Seriously?” I stepped forward until I was an inch from his face. “Don’t preach unless you know what you’re talking about.” My voice was sickeningly sweet, like maple syrup dripped over a vibrating chainsaw.
I turned to leave but he followed me.
“Go away,” I said without looking at him.
“I’m going this way too. I’m looking for someplace to eat. You know any good place? I’m craving for fish and chips,” he said in a casual manner, as if he did not just witness my suicide attempt.
I sighed tiredly. I had a feeling he would follow me like a lovesick puppy if I said no. And I didn’t want him to trail me to my house and saw the broken doll house. I didn’t want him to see anything.
“There is one place you might like. It’s on the way.”
He followed me quietly with his hands buried inside his pockets. I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He was tall, almost six foot high. His hair was messy with sharp layers. He had the same hair colour as me, same eye colour. I peered at him more closely. There was something about him that I couldn’t figure out. He felt… familiar. His scent triggered something that was buried deep inside my memory but I couldn’t place where I smelt it from.
The greasy smell of fish wafted into my nose as we rounded into a corner. There ahead of us was the small shop with neon blared fish above the door. My mouth watered at the perfume of fried chips and grease. I hadn’t eaten for two days. I’d locked myself in my room when my dad got home, claiming that I got sick with contagious disease. Nobody came to check on me which suited me fine.
“Well there you go,” I said before I turned to leave.
He pulled my wrist to stop me.
“You’re not going anywhere. You’re eating with me. I don’t want to eat by myself,” he said in that deep, melodic voice with a hint of America accent. His eyes were clear and sparkled, as if they held millions of stars. He was close yet far away from me. I had the urge to reach out and let him take me to somewhere far far away.
“I’m not eating with you. I need to go,” I said firmly and tried to push his hands away but he only gripped my wrist tighter. His fingers closed over the scars but he didn't flinch from the protruded flesh.
“I insist. Please,” he said before dragging me with him, leaving me spluttering for excuses.
He dragged me inside the shop, pulled one of the chairs and shoved my ass on it. He took another chair and sat opposite me, the plastic table between us. He smiled at me, showing his dimples on one side of his mouth. I scowled at him.
One of the workers came up with a small pad in her hand.
“Whatcha having?” She said as she popped the bubblegum in her mouth.
“Two plates of fish and chips and two glasses of coke.” The boy beat me to it before I could even open my mouth. He looked at me. “Is that okay? Do you want something else?”
I shook my head and fisted my hands under the table. The girl jotted the orders on her pad before leaving our table.
“Hey, do you know how to smile?” He asked me suddenly.
I peered at him through my eyelashes.
“Why?” I asked.
“I never saw you smile.” He shrugged as if that warranted him to ask me such question.
“You just saw me tried to jump off the bridge. Would I still be smiling even after you pulled me back?” I said sarcastically. My nails dug into my palm, the pain calmed the ringing bells inside my head. He was asking questions. I didn’t like it when people asked questions.
“I bet you’re really pretty if you smile.” I froze at his words. Nobody ever called me that before. I couldn’t smile. I didn’t know how to twitch that particular muscle. I jumped as my phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out with shaky hands and stared at the caller.
The clock in my phone said Nine p.m. I broke my curfew. I would get a whipping when I got home. My chin quivered slightly as I put my phone back into my pocket.
“I need to go,” I said calmly despite the maelstrom inside me and stood, pushing my chair back.
“Wait-” He began.
“I need to go,” I said more firmly. I turned and walked out of the shop, ignoring his shouts. I broke into a run and blended in the darkness.
Back into my Hell.