A|N>>
This chapter shall have big, big timeskip. Khay's now 15 :) and I'll use 3rd person pov from here.
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"I met him in a place far from the sayings of romantic,
I was at a loss for words back then,
I refused to let him say much,
and so our story unfolds by itself."
07:00
Her pen stops in a dramatic stun, causing the soft scratching sound on the canvas paper to cease. Khay carefully studies the words in the sketchpad on her lap, her expression empty. Her handwriting is like a wave of threads, stretching and reaching for an uncertain end. It means failure, she never understands.
The poem she tried to create turns out to be another piece of trash. A failure like her.
She tears the paper out of the sketchpad.
"No good either," she whispers under her breath, closing her eyes to tune down the noises in her head.
She focuses on other sounds, other noises under that abandoned bridge. The swishes of flowing river at her feet, the chirps of yellow and red birds dancing in the air, the mewls of street cats on the bridge, the thump, thump, thump from her chest. Her mind empties and she opens her brown eyes to catch light on half of her face.
Here, under the so-called haunted bridge she often stays after her school ends. People go through efforts to spread rumors; whoever goes near the bridge would be pulled into the river underneath and drown, whoever goes near would be suffocated by the passing dark wind, whoever goes near would be swallowed into a mist- in other words, never to be seen again, vanishes, period.
Khay sighs into the chilly wind breezing past her long skirt, reciting some words of protection. She hears the rumors, but she was never the type to believe on baseless ideas.
"Allah protects everything."
She remembers something her late father said that night, the back of her throat dries up at the memory.
May Allah protect you always, my sweet princess.
"Father..." her lips quiver but she can't cry, she holds a promise to stop crying over someone or something that would never return.
Her mobile phone vibrates in the pocket of her vest. She shoves her right hand in the fabric and raises the gadget to her face. The screen blinks a simple message for her, with a clock icon taking up the biggest space.
School.
It's just the alarm she snoozes for about three times this morning after she performs subh prayer. She was surprisingly quick to prepare to school today and was 30 minutes early. The school gates shall close before 7.30 am. She gapes at the digits of 7:15 on the screen.
No one in their right mind would remind her about her schedule every single day. And she doesn't even bother to find someone like that. She is what people say an absolute outcast- she made it that way by her own will.
She keeps her sketchpad inside her bag before zipping it close, swinging the strap over her shoulder. Her right hand involuntarily shoots up to feel the scarf around her head, properly placed and appropriate. Satisfied, she takes a step.
YOU ARE READING
Beautiful Words
Teen Fiction"Words that I can't share." She always believed, her presence in someone's life was nothing but a bad sign. "Then comes in me, a girl silently retreating into the shadows until she eventually blends into them- tainted and unwanted. She only got one...
