Make You Love

Chapter 30

Isla was quick to snap, "Cut out the bullshit. You know perfectly well that I don't believe love exists. If there's anyone who's toss it in my face this senselessly, I don't expect it to be you. And from now on, Craig is off  bounds."

"So the thing I've been hearing, it's not a rumour." Winter gazed upon her girlfriend in an entirely new light, all messed up and angry, deep lines digging into her forehead.

"Fuck whatever you've been hearing. Now pass my phone so I can get the hell out of here."
Isla attempted to pry the phone away from Winter's grasp.

However, the ensuing course of action rendered her nasty gesture unnecessary. Half-smiling, half-frowning, Winter smashed it on the beige tiles, picked it back up and handed it to Isla. The tension between them grew as thick as the fog curdling outside, occasionally blown through by a faint whisper of wind. Isla contemplated on whether to slap Winter first then retrieve the phone, or tend to her phone first then deal hell with her now obnoxious friend.

"Here, take it," Winter snarled.

The measured rise and fall of her chest increased in tempo from her exertion. Could the phone have been that heavyweight?

"What the fuck do you mean? It's broken." Isla fought an overwhelming urge to push Winter so hard that she'd topple over and fracture a bone or two, preferably the ones in her hands.

"That's precisely the point. We. Are. Over."
Winter enunciated her last words with extra gusto. She sliced Isla through like she was ordinary cheese, all the while musing and reassuring herself that she had done what was best. Best?

"You're kidding, right? Very funny joke."

"Is that all you take me for? A mere joke?"

"Hell yeah. Look here baby girl, this... Is stupid, alright? Just gimme a new phone and we'll forget this ever happened."

Winter recoiled, stung by the harsh reality of her friend's point of view. That she would never be more than a five-year old girl running around with a delectable cone of ice cream during summer, her ponytails bouncing behind her as she chased after her playmates. That their relationship was somewhat akin to the one between a master and his servant. She knew Isla had always looked farther down at her than was fit for some reason she had not deciphered. Sadness conquered her weary spirits. There and then, she rightly decided against patronising Isla's impulses which were usually cold, weird and cruel. How could someone so beautiful be this dead inside?

"I wish you find love for what it truly is before it's too late. Sometimes you think some people will always be around you forever. Sorry to burst your bubble but that's not true. One day, we all will stop caring. We'll no longer send you bestie texts asking if you're fine, if you want us to come over. We won't cover up for you when you miss a class because you're too busy making out with your newest catch in the girls' toilet. We won't always be here for you. And your foolish ego won't allow you go after us. So if you think you can lash out at us forever, you're sore mistaken."

Isla eyed her curiously.
"Tell me more."

"And Diana doesn't sound good on you."

Before Isla could summon a chapping response, Winter veered around and stomped out of the gym. How could she learn to love others when she was consumed with so much hatred for herself? The kind of hatred that slept and woke up with her, that kind which made her ask God repeatedly why He had ever created her? She doubted He listened since, after all, they said He did not hear sinners. But He Who loved all as if there were only one, could He not cure her of her stony heart?

And the tears started coming when she least needed or appreciated them. They rolled down her face in big, defiant drops, betraying her self-sabotaging thoughts to the entire universe far and wide. They mocked her, like the weak girl she was inside. How she wished they would stay put and spare her additional sorrow. How she wished. But wishes were not horses so beggars would never dream of riding, right?

꧁꧂

Bunching her sheets around her body, she curled up in her bed. About an hour ago, she had flipped off her lampshade, thereby plunging the room into serene darkness. As she pondered about Craig, it dawned on her that she had no idea what he endured in prison.

The pain... For her. She wondered if he was starved daily or if a warder high on coke pushed a tray of homemade pancakes under the door of his jail cell every morning. He might be happy or sad, or downright angry at this stupid world for causing his predicament. She reached out to the other side of the bed, expecting to touch the faint outline of his head, or shoulder, so that she could snuggle up to him and he would rock her to sleep, just like they did before he dated Novah. But her arms met tumbled sheets tinged with sickly sweet scent of her body wash. Isla snatched back her hand into her bosom. She wanted to smell him instead.

All alone in that dead silent night, she recalled his promise.

Once I'm outta jail, I'll teach you. I'll teach you everything from start to finish, baby girl.

All alone, she wept tears from a broken and wounded heart.

All alone, she bluntly refused to call out for help. Isla Dehler cast a veil over her troubles, entrapping them within her prison of a mind.

Perhaps someday would dawn when she would look back on her past and say, "I should've done something to save my best friend from the jaws of the law."

As she surrendered to sleep's charms that night, she also made a promise - that that day would never come. As long as she lived, pigs would fly and hell would freeze over before she abandoned Craig to death.