A twisted story about a girl's mind being torn apart as she slowly notices the person she trusts isn't the Same... A broken path to picked which evil she would endure.


3. Chapter Three


Chapter Three I looked into her sea green eyes, and all I can see was her dominant features. Pouring in stories she hasn’t yet told, or maybe won’t tell me. I don’t know if she noticed, but I’ve been watching her. More than a neighbor should. I know all there is to know about Mrs. Silverwood. How she listens to Dean Martin at exactly eleven o’clock, and sings along side Frank Sinatra as he tells her to fly him to the moon countless times through the night. She bathes only in lavender scented bath soap, that she gets every Tuesday at the Pure Aroma store down the street of Pansel Avenue. She covers herself in the beige cotton sweater that matches the grey gradient underwear, and ankle socks that she only wears every tea break near fall. She still irons Mr. Silverwood’s suit every morning just to hide the fact that she’s secretly a widow. I always wondered if she does it to show the world that he’s still alive, or to prove herself that he is in the progress. I dream about her. Take pictures of her every morning, because she is and always will be a piece of art. Sometimes, a part of me is sicken of my obsession. I am a sixteen year old girl who hides such greed for a beautiful twenty-six year old neighbor close by. But this feeling. This emotion. This sudden yen to be her audience. I laugh at the thought that she feels the same, but somehow I think she knows. Somehow, I think she’s encouraging such a disease. “Tell me,” I said, “I want to know.” With that, she smiled. It was a graceful smile, as if the answer was right in front of my disadvantaged eyes. “How can a bird tell another the color of its feathers, if the bird cannot see the truth?” I began to frown. It was a disappointed one, because I knew the value of this lesson. I didn’t want to talk about, nor did I want to admit. I looked back down at my tea cup that had a few drops of tea left in its wide mouth. Before my eyes could close o hold back the sadness of the truth, I felt her warm hands cup over mine. “Why do you constantly lie to yourself? Even I can see you are not the weakling you always entitled yourself to be.” “I-I”, before I could explain, she draws closer to me as to examine my eyes. “You’re not blind. But then again, you can’t see all that well can you,” she starts to get even closer where her nose almost touch mind. She stares into my eyes like a scientist ready to dissect its new discovery. I felt like she would just pull them out the socket. I felt her breath on my face, and I almost melted on the chair. I didn’t know what to do, so I closed my eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was so fascinated by the colors that I stepped to far into your personal space,” when I opened them, she smiled an angelic smile that squinted her eyes and widen her smile. That’s when I noticed, how terrifyingly big her smile was. How many teeth is in there? she pulls the brown strand of hair behind her ear, and she whispers into my ear. “You can see more than the world,” and she paused as if to think,”more than I will ever show you.” The oven bell rung, and she walked back into the kitchen. I didn’t even notice that I was holding my breath. Suddenly, I saw a blue jacket on the arm of the couch. It was so familiar that I had to get a closer look. I walked up to it, and opened it up. A picture fell to the floor, and just before I could grab it, Mrs. Silverwood would yell my name. It was the first time I ever heard her say it that way. I stopped, and looked at her. Her worried look was fixed into a smile. A forced smile as if to stall or hide what she truly felt. A nervous smile. “Y-you know...curiosity killed the cat...”
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