I was humming the rhythm of the song crazier while it was playing through my phone. Specks of dust from the wooden chairs and tables in my room flew as I lifted the blankets of my bed's matrix. Making my bed is a hobby for me. It's not that I'm a perfectionist, but my mom and dad have always scolded me when I was a kid if I wouldn't clean my bed, so it became my routine ever since then. I remember one time when I was in third grade; I did nothing but sit during breakfast. Then dad asked me if I cleaned my bed. I lied, saying yes, though I didn't.
He checked and found the truth. He became so mad at me and took my Barbie dolls away for a week. Now that I'm older, of course, I don't play with dolls anymore, instead. If I don't do my chores, he takes my gadgets away. I don't think that is torture. It's discipline.
I laughed at the thought. Those were the olden days. I smiled in front of my fixed bed. Seeing it this clean makes me happy even if I don't own it. All done; I'm ready for breakfast. I shut the door after I opened it earlier to get out.
Then, my feet walked towards Peter's room. First things first: call my best friend so we can have breakfast together and have a lot of fun while talking to each other, getting to know more, and joking. He has a great sense of humor, which is a little rare in French boys.
My fist which was formed into a rock met the door as I knocked. "You don't want to miss the first meal of the day, right? I made reservations last night for two plates of bacon." I kept knocking hard but still, there were no responses. I frowned and tried to knock again.
Suddenly, I froze when I heard a small familiar voice coming with an echo in the background as if it was far from me. "No! Please, don't. Please stop! No! Don't!"
I stayed still in my position and wondered where it came from, why was the person saying those words which were creepy like no, please, don't, and stop as if someone is getting abused.
Abused. Getting abused.
"Please, no!" The noise came again. I looked behind me and thought of one thing: the sound is not from my back, it was in front of me.
Until then... I figured out who it was. There's only one person I know who would scream defensive words. I began to stumble with my clumsy hands when I tried to open the door because I was panicking. I think something wrong is going on which I think is already in my mind. Perhaps something I'm not sure of is bothering Peter right now.
"Peter! Where are you?" I screamed.
I held the knob and figured out it was not locked. Peter's door not locked? When he goes out, he locks his door same when he's inside. Right now it isn't? It just makes things look more complicated.
I opened the door completely and entered with my feet on the ground. As I looked around, everything was normal. Everything was in its right place. It was dark but a piece of sunlight was coming from the window. The lights were off and the curtains were held down. His bed is fixed, the table is tidy, and the floor is shiny. But then, the voice earlier became clearer. "Stop! No!" This means I'm getting closer to where the person is from. "Peter, is that you?" There were no responses.
"Ah!" he screamed. The echo was familiar; something I'd heard before.
Echoes?
There's only one place where echoes get born.
I walked towards the bathroom door and knocked. "Peter...." I called.
"No, don't get it in whoever you are!" My eyes widened. Don't get in? Instead of doing what he said, I opened the door and found him half-naked with a towel wrapped around his waist, lying in the bathtub, avoided looking at me, and covered his ears using his hands while shaking.
I gulped. I've never seen him this way before. "Hey! Are you okay?" He obviously was not fine. I only asked him to see if he would respond. "Stay away from him, Charlie! Stay away!" He yelled louder than I've ever heard him scream. Louder when we sang the other night.
"Stay away from who?" Because of his voice tone, I couldn't help but yell back.
"Him! Him, Charlie! Him! The guy behind you!" He kept screaming then closed his eyes and his hands remained covering his ears. I looked behind me, it's only me and him in this room.
"Peter, there's no one else here!" I yelled back.
"Ugh!" The mixture of irritation, fear, and sadness was evident on his voice and face.
I can't tell how I felt when I realized what's going on with him. Like last night, when he asked to sleep in my room, I guess this is what happened. I now remember the day when Britney told me Peter's darkest secret about his mental disorders. I don't know which one is attacking him right now but it's pretty tough. It's hitting hard on him.
I immediately ran to him and stepped into the bathtub. Even if it's wet, I don't care because he needs my help. The water got in my pajama and I was halfway watered. I stepped closer to Peter and gently removed his hands from his ears. "Peter, look at me in the eye!" He kept his eyes shut and didn't do what I wanted him to while his hands are so hard to get away from his face. He's fighting against my actions. "Look me in the eye!" I screamed again which startled him enough to do what I said.
His jaw was shaking and his hands were too. "Peter, calm down. it would be okay. Calm down! Everything would be fine. Trust me, please! It's just you and me. Whoever that guy is who you are seeing right now, he won't hurt you!" He didn't say a word. But his face was something I have never seen before.
Someone I don't know.
I leaned forward and opened my arms. I locked him in them, his wet skin was on top of mine and I rested my chin on his head. I whispered one more time, "everything would be fine."
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HIP #2: Summer Of Love
Ficção AdolescenteHeartbreak In Paris Series Book #2 "He only loves me because he's drunk." In the squad, there is a summer camp tradition that Britney, Charlie, Peter, and Shane always do every year at Mancheston Beach in Paris, France as bonding for the group of b...