Oreo Ice Cream

Chapter 26| So goddamn stupid

I jolted awake, gripping the rough fibres of the towel I was lying on — like I was still in a nightmare. Cold water ran through my forehead to the corner of my eyes as the gentle crashing of waves echoed in my ears. I am at the beach. I found my eyes on a field of grey dandelions. Harry was crouching on his knees, leaning upon my face; his eyes shaded with confusion and worry. Or was there a slight hint of fear in his eyes? Guess I could see everything I've been feeling throughout now.

"Ah," I winced as I tried to sit when Harry wrapped his arms around me and helped me sit. My limbs were too weak, and my heart was slow. I tried to remember everything, but it seemed my memory had gone as blank as Harry's eyes. Nothing seemed actual except the abyss of grey nothings beneath his eyes.

Passing out after having a panic attack was something that frequently happened to me after Daddy left. I used to have nightmares about him and Mum fighting, broken wine glasses, scratched wrists, and blood. Something inside me shuddered hard. I've always had this weird feeling after my panic attacks. Mum never knew, nor did anyone else, except Granny. She was my only "darling" who knew about this. But she never had her words of "You've to strong, Flora." She had always told me to get up and "learn to pick up the shattered glass pieces" and use them as torches in the dark tunnel.

The recurrence of the frightening incidents felt shocking, but this felt good, like truly good. It felt like coming out of a crowded party room to get some fresh air I hadn't inhaled for ages. My lungs burnt in the fresh salty air, and my throat turned dry. I licked my chapped lips.

"You doin' okay now?" Harry's thick accent caught me off-guard. An English boy and a true gentleman, indeed. I looked at him and half-smiled while he opened a water bottle and gave it to me. Without a word, I almost snatched it from his hand and let the water pour down my screaming throat–

Peace, peace, peace. A stream was flowing through an old, dried, stony path after ages. Dad, I love you, the dank breeze sang. For a second, I drowned in the low hum of the air without worrying about anything.

"Thank you," my voice cracked as I gave Harry the almost empty bottle. I was sure it was his and that he wouldn't mind. Wait, did he have a bag with him? I didn't notice until now.

"I am sorry, Harry," I chewed my lower lip. "I just... you have to... I mean, you know, I kinda–"

"It's okay, really. I mean, I was terrified at first, yes, when you, you know, passed out. But–" He paused and softened his gaze before continuing, "does this happen often? Or..."

His words died in the gentle roar of waves. The sun was setting, splashing the lightest shade of purple upon the foamy waves. Only this time did the hue feel different — like a never-healed bruise all over your limbs that burn in the dying sun.

A young girl ran across the beach with her parents as they laughed together and lifted her in the air. My heart fluttered; this was the picture-perfect childhood I wished to frame in the chipped white photo frame that hung on my room's wall. This was the dream I wanted to hold on to forever. The only Christmas gift I always prayed for till the meteor crashed, and I had nothing to clasp close to my heart and live.

Something cold brushed my bare shoulder. I whipped my head up to find Harry looking at me. If I didn't have a panic attack before, I could have lost myself in those grey eyes — a dream, a certain aura struck in those stormy clouds one could imagine of. He leaned in, letting his nose brush mine. A dash of wild desperation and adrenaline ran through my veins as my heart pulsed in my chest faster than usual. I caught a whiff of his cologne — cedarwood and lavender, a striking blend — before closing my eyes. For a while, I thought about leaning forward and feeling the moment. But then, wasn't I the Flora who once swore never to lock lips with anyone but Tris? Wasn't Harry a complete stranger? Stupid, so goddamn stupid.