Still Him, At The End Of The World.

chapter eight

Mommy woke with her nose against mine, pressing insistently as she struggled from the webbing of her dreams.

"Mommy..." Perhaps she had only cringed from the cries of her unreality. All of which lingered at the edge of her mind, revolting to this creature that clung to her - grinning widely.

"Nightmare, mommy?" I henceforth brought myself into seating whilst supposing an assumption from how she had reacted and repelled.

"... No....."

"... no..." Mommy only murmured and did not indulged the asked any further. Mommy instead closed our proximity, denying me from seeing her distressed feature.

I wrapped my arms around her in return nonetheless.

"I didn't mean to surprise you, mommy." I played with mommy's strands of hair.

"No.. It's not like... no.. Brook...." She deflected my concern and expired a deliberate exhalation before embracing my small stature tighter.

"It's okay, mommy. I wouldn't be mad." I assured and felt her embrace stiffened.

The bitter aftertaste crawled into my throat drowning the sizzle of gold. I glanced and downed the glass of champaign once again.

I was cold then I am burning.

The alternating sensation is biting, pulled like a tide however you swam against it. But then it did not only pulled me in for an inexplicable physicality but out and into the paradox of emotional sensation.

What is it that wrangled with my concern?

I watched Rain and Carol sway around the open space of terrace, barely ocular from anybody's world.

What is it that brought this ridiculous aggravation?

The remaining liqued of gold swirled, following the adornment of my gesture.

I am cold and thus only cold, nothing more.

I tore my gaze and sought out corners or spare seats where I might sit undisturbed. My tapered gaze narrowed further: to the occupied spaces of gibberish, their consumption of foods, and the assertive hold of gazes. They rasped conversely.

I gulped the remaining swirl of champaign and dispose the glass immediately.

"Is that her?"

"Go, talk to her."

"'Kala ko ba birthday celebration' to? Bakit parang business gathering?"

"Look at her dress, I've seen it sa runway somewhere."

"That pianist kanina, huh? He plays perfect."

"Don't act innocent, Rachel. We both know we've been ogling the pianist himself rather than his pieces."

"Heh."

"What the hell are you doing, honey? Stop eating already. Kaya ayan, you look horrible with your dress."

Herafter hearing the constant rubbish, I did not envy those who comfortably situated still. I henceforth remained striding out from the presence of this gathering.

I act haste and dismissive for those who greeted - did not made any response. It meant to be cold. But all I heard was the silence of my weariness.

I traced the dimmed path of the hallway, found right at the corner of the domineering hall. It was dimmed and narrowed, idle but cold. Then until I found a balcony that overlooked the mansion's wide lawn, coiling into the rising heights of buildings. At another time, I would be captivated with the end of my viewing point: the brightest falsity of the artificial stars - those skyscrapers.