Derelict Whispers

i

chapter 1: quite familiar

“There’s this house party.”

From my grey laptop’s screen, I brought my gaze to the owner of that thin voice. Heaven, in her usual get up: a dusty rose hanging top with her caramel mini skirt—stood in front of me. I almost forgot that I gave her an access card to my apartment, hence she’s been barging into my bedroom just like that; without any warning. I’d be surprised though if she would knock on the door first before coming in.

I can still remember that day when I nudged her about that, but she just shrugged it off as if knocking before entering was the oldest rule that should be forgotten.

“You’re not into dirty or any pornographic stuff, are you?” she asked, and I literally jumped on my bed upon hearing that. It was as if my whole world quaked due to her remark.

"Hell no!" I shouted, almost hugging the crucifix on top of my bed’s headboard.

She laughed as she raised both of her hands as if surrendering. “Okay, good girl. I get you. No need to break my eardrums. There’s nothing to worry about.” Then she sat there quietly for a second before she squinted her eyes at me. “But are you really sure that you’re not into any lasciviousness?”

“What?!” I was beyond alarmed by what she blabbered about.

She rolled her eyes heavenwards. “Ugh. Boring.”

I mentally rolled my eyes with that memory. Yes, her name is Heaven, but she is not her name. She is nowhere near her name. If only angels or any other heavenly creatures could do something in front of her as she does her lewd things, they would certainly facepalm.

I dragged my eyes back to the laptop's screen. "Who's throwing the party?" I asked in my laziest tone.

Maybe my position made me sound like that. I was sitting on my bed: doing an indian sit, and my laptop was on top of my crossed lap. Heaven was standing in front of me; staring intently as if I'd be gone in a second.

"Zailey," she told me the name of the party thrower, and I could vividly imagine her rolling her eyes after mentioning that name. "You know how she loves parties so much," she added as if telling an old tale that everyone is already aware of.

Heaven loves to party, too. So damn much. She has been like that for like a three-fourth of her age. Yes. She's been attending one since her young age. In addition, she told me that I should blame her mom for teaching her to be a party girl, but I opposed her idea. Why would I blame her mom when she has her own decisions? It was her who made that choice. It was her who let her mom influence her, so why would I put the blame on her mother?

We can't blame someone when it is us who did the deeds; it is us who let their words get into our head. I mean, come on. We're the one steering our own life. It's clearly up to us when we have to pick and ignore someone's words.

I blinked once when I recalled what Heaven have answered to my previous question. I could only bit my lower lip to refrain myself from saying "and so are you." To forget that statement, I chose to fire another question.

I cleared my throat as I pressed the enter key of the laptop. "Whose house she'll be using this time?"

I heard her gasped in an exaggerating manner. It was as if she just lost words to say with that question of mine.

"Are you serious?!" she asked as if she just heard the most difficult and stupidest thing.

Even I was not looking, I knew that she's wide-eyed like a bug, and mouth opened wide like an alligator. Also, I know she's already playing with the ends of her brownish and curly long hair. She is that bothered by my question. I painted her that way because I knew her for almost half of my life. I know her reaction. I know her well.