The eternality in our ephemerality

Chapter 39. Pain is a great teacher. You never do it again.

I kept walking, stumbling on little rocks and frightened, he would follow me. Looking behind my back as if something terrible and deadly would encounter me. As if a vampire, thirsty for my blood, had tasted my blood and now searched for the rest of it...a droplet that had created an unstoppable frenzy. A drug. A slip of alcohol. An appetiser of passion.

I was apparently completely and absolutely paranoid.

But.... He didn't come after me.

The image I feared never came to pass and the wandering of my unreasonably distrustful mind never came to an end; a prophecy that would never be true.

I continued to look behind my shoulder, waiting for him to appear, waiting for his smile to run wild, waiting for his majestic muscly body to appear once again...

But it didn't. And each time I looked back and didn't see him, the angrier I got.

I kept walking, with my backpack tensely tied and my shoelaces jumping and jiggling from one side to the other.

Rushing.

Stumbling.

My mind was not paying attention to the road and in multiple cases, my face almost stamped into the ground. Sometimes, I wish it did. Because it would be like a pinch that awoke me from the dream...it would only hurt a little bit more. But it would release me from my stupid overthinking mind. A concussion for peace, seemed like a price I would gladly pay.

The wind disapproved of my intentions: it roared with more might and pushed my hair back as it crashed through my face, drying the unshaded tears. The worse, was that I had no idea what I was feeling: guilt? Anger? Worry? Care?....my ignorance made the....feeling even worse.

Automatic, metallic steps were the movements my unrestrained feet granted me with; my glance lifted, only ensuring no tears were split, and noticed as easily and quickly as the sun sinked and rose, that my fading body now was half across the street, seeing the pizza place every Friday me and my friends would go eat, the Starbucks were we had drinks and laughed, the memories of my so protected childhood.

Tears cribbed my eyeballs.

How far can we accept the lie?

A soul, drawn to you with such invigorance, that is forced to be neglected: I was dehydrated and he had a glass of water with a drop of poison.

If this is not agony, I do not know what is.

ugh.

Like a leached monster: the road's length extended itself at each step, sucking with glee my fainting energy. My mind no longer had the strength to arrange the thoughts and so, my feet's ticking monotonically churned and churned like the ones a clock does.

Each moment or so, my head curved downwards and my hand tilted upwards: sweeping away another miserable tear: a response to a stupidly complex affair my heart ordained in.

Steps were given.

Senseless tears wiped away.

A black Mercedes appeared on the back of my corner.

Its wheels, speculating my steps and with each glaze fragmenting my facade, turned so slowly that it appeared my monotonousness was speeding. My neck coiled around to see the torment: instinctively analysing why the driver, suspiciously glimpsed over a slowly lowering opaque window, had not already passed me over...

The wind roared, the leaves crunched underneath my feet....Abruptly, the wheels on the vehicle sped and grunted their way across the pavement: the wheel had been violently shifted from direction: it was headed my way....The car sped, my panic arose.