Sweet Tragedies

The 22nd

"There are 121 reasons why this story isn't for you but, you have no other option. Death is coming."

Bloodcurdling, my trembling left hand still holds this old book, and I nearly drop the flashlight in my right hand. It is supposed to be a book which can make me feel better, but I just read this daunting first line written on the first page, and it makes my heart thump a little bit faster than the usual. Then my mind begins to think of those horrifying images inside my weary head. But I can't stop myself from reading the sentence again... and again, wondering if this is for real. Yet, I doubt. This isn't making sense. This is the last book that my bestfriend have given to me, though.

Perhaps, her silliness rises to the next level, or maybe, she only knows what I'm doing tonight. I never learn to cry with style, nonchalantly, tears roll down my cheeks from my eyes. I wish I have; then, I could have done it in front of people, instead of hiding in here. Clear watery snot streaks from my flaring nostrils down to my mottled skin, to my open quivering lips. I'm blabbering for her lost... her sudden lost. I can no longer see clearly and all I know is that my poor bestfriend is gone, out of my life for possibly, forever.

I want to gasp for fresh air but I realize that I'm currently inside of my closet.. for the nth time. I barely fit in, and I have to bend my legs because the space is too narrow for my body. My entire back pins the left side of the closet, and I'm grateful enough that I have no long dresses hanging above me. The only illumination inside is this flashlight which I am holding right now. Such tiny glow is enough to hold this darkness that I'm in; not in this gloomy place but to my dark being. I have to say, ever since I know the word pain, I conceal here like a cowardly kid.

My breathy gasps reverberate through the closet. Then, I become a weak lady, crying in obscure sorrow.

For I am alone, scared, and devastated.

I take a look on the book cover-A striking face of a guy. His eyes are like the green of fresh dew lustrous in the sunlight off a leaf of green emerald. His nose is slender and his lips are pale and thin. He has a sharp jaw, chin, and cheekbones. His dark brows are actually graceful, but currently furrow in a frown.

I have never seen a man with those features, but I know, without a doubt, that he is a god.

"Adreine? Are you in there?" I hear my twin's soft voice coming out from the other side of the closet's entrance. Three thunderous knocks echo unto my ears. I've been staying here for three hours and she knows that this is my preferred hiding place, especially when I begin to hate the world. I sob in silence hoping that she won't hear me. I close the book, pushing it aside."I know you're in there. Come out, sis. Our parents are waiting for you."

I wish she can understand me like what Latrine did, but her life is far conflicting than mine. My twin sister is almost to perfection, and she doesn't know the feeling of someone who suffers a lot of pain and torment. She lives utterly opposite of what I am living today.

We may share the same physical features but we have a lot of disparities. "Tell them, you haven't seen me yet," I answered back.

"Oh, you. You know that I'm here for you, right? I know how you feel," she said with a gentle tone. If I can just open the closet and ask for a slight squeeze to soothe this massive ache that I have, but I let my inner self decides. There are things that should be kept hidden, and there are feelings that must never divulge.

She won't understand how I feel anyway. I know. So, it's better to keep it this way.

"I'm fine, sis. You should worry about yourself," I answer firmly.
If there is one imperfection she has, then, it is her three-month relationship with Jordan. Our parents have no clue about their furtive affair, but I already know. I caught them kissing torridly, one night, in her room. Her breasts were already exposed, and Jordan's pants were already on the floor. It was a secret... until now.