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Three-hundred and fifty pictures of Gabe and I kissing or making stupid faces or simply Snapchat saves cluttered my phone's library like a collage of my own personal newfound mania. For thirty minutes straight, I couldn't stop revisiting each picture as a giddy smile reached my lips, and not three minutes after did I text Gabe what he was up to--to my surprise, he didn't respond, which only made for a disappointed sad face gone back to a girl gushing on her crush.
Psychedelic Furs convoluted my senses as each verse blared through my headphones, hazing out the whole world around me. Instead of working on my research paper for my science class like I should be, I instead chose to reminisce and procrastinate until my heart was fluttering like a hummingbird and my stomach did whirlwinds on its own.
One picture in particular caught me grinning childishly as Gabe was kissing my cheek with his hands wrapped around my back, trapping me in place so as to refuse his affection. I was caught squeezing my eyes on his lap mid-way laughing--he wouldn't stop kissing me until I had submitted to telling him he wasn't a terrible skater. I lied. He was severely terrible at roller-skating. It was a photo-booth picture we had made when we decided to go to Matheson's Rollerskating Rink just for the hell of it--we may or may not have ditched Galloway's class, but I wasn't going to tell my mom that. It made for a rather memorable fifth date--our third being a simple restaurant date which was more formal and elegant, and then one at a karaoke bar as an impromptu kind of spur of the moment thing.
No matter how hard I tried to calm the butterflies in my stomach, they would just keep coming and get more worse and stronger then before. I never felt like this about anyone, especially ever since. . .
I shuddered, closing my eyes to sound off the dark thoughts that often treaded on the outskirts of my mind and ignored the THUD in my head.
No. He's gone, Max. He can't get here. He's in prison. He's gone. You're okay. You're okay. Just breathe. You're okay. Just breathe.
I inhaled a large breath and dismissed all the creeping images that demanded to push through the barrier of my mind--my conscious. I shushed them. They were temporally quiet while I turned up my music. The music kept my pain away--I continued scrolling to distract myself.
Something unsettling occurred thereafter that for a moment I considered it just a trick of the eye playing a mockery out of my memories. A shadow, quicker then my perphial vision could catch, but slow enough to notice it wasn't normal caught my immediate eye. An unsettling feeling of being watched came over me, and being the paranoid person I am, rightfully so, I found myself stiffening. Unnatural as it was, a cold shiver drew up my spine. A strange creak then greeted the air.
Old house. Old houses creak all the time. Why would this be any different? I tried to convince myself, but somehow, I felt like that wasn't exactly true in this predicament. And then I looked toward my bay window, hoping Tiberius was the cause of such a sound, but to my dismay, Tiberius was soundly sleeping unbnowkst to his surroundings.
