She floated effortlessly through the water, the rush of the fall deafened by the surface.
It seemed like an eternity since she last went swimming. As a child she had loved the water, how it made her weightless.
It was the closest she had ever come to flying.
She was not touching the ground, nor was she part of the sky. She was levitated by the foundation of life. It made her feel powerful; how her fragile spirit, entrusted to the might of the sacred fluid, could exist in synergy. It made her beholden of the gift that had been bestowed upon her. The offering of being...
It lasted for what seemed a psychical eternity, but a sudden tear in her mind-woven fabric made a myriad of thoughts spill through, drowning out her peace of mind.
When she broke the surface, her lungs caved in and sent violent coughs through her body.
All at once she was shaking and dizzy, a mere moment confused as to where she was.
And then she saw him.
His eyes were slightly wide, worry having a decreasing hold on him with every breath she hissed. He was squatted down in front of her, dripping wet.
He tucked her hair behind her ear and rested his hands on her shoulders. His lips were moving, but Agnes was too distant to catch their meaning. She focused on her breathing, feeling the water ripple in her lungs."Agnes?" Chris's voice sank through her racing mind, "Agnes, are you alright?"
Her eyes stared blankly at a strand of grass on the ground that was carrying a droplet of water, reflecting the orange light from the late sun. She raised her gaze to meet his eyes."I-" a cough interrupted her voice, "I just need some dry clothes, I think." She tried to stand up, accepting his supporting hand.
He did not look convinced, but Agnes had no energy left for reassurance.
On the way down to the main road, Agnes felt a gratitude towards Chris, a piercing feeling of indebtedness she had not known before.
"Thank you, Chris."
He looked at her with a confused smile. "What are you thanking me for?"
"Being there. Not telling me I was crazy. Believing I could do something like that."
He frowned, "Agnes, you're the toughest girl I've met."
She snorted, "I seriously doubt that."
"Why?" His voice had changed. His familiar, kind one had been replaced by a strange sort of confusion. Of quandary.
A surge of doubt flooded her mind.
Should she not have said that? Did it make her seem insecure?
She had been told countless times that insecure girls who questioned their worth were a complete turnoff. But, why did it matter? It was, after all, not like they were dating or anything. Should she not be allowed to speak her mind to a friend?
For some reason, however, Agnes could not shake the feeling that it did matter to her what Chris thought. It mattered a whole lot more than she could allow.
"I just meant, because, you know, you must've met a lot of people." It was a sad saving, but he accepted it with a raised eyebrow and an amused grin, as if he was about to make a funny remark. However, when his eyes glided over her drained face, he swallowed his thoughts.
The drive back was uncomfortable - and not just because Agnes was dripping wet. Chris was tapping the steering wheel and seemed restless in his seat. Once or twice Agnes had to remind him to lay off the accelerator pedal.
He suddenly broke the silence in a spicy tone. "You really need to make up your mind, Agnes."
"What do you mean?"
He let out his breath and rested his head on the neck rest, eyes still fixed on the road unfolding in front of him. "Nothing," then he added a "sorry."
Agnes thought his behaviour was highly suspicious but did not know whether to address it or not. She felt silly. Like a little school girl trying to impress a boy in the class above her.
Somehow, this little adventure had changed things. The air had thickened. It was not easy to talk to Chris like it had been in the mill. Whether it was because Agnes had made a fool of herself one time too many, or because she somehow could not avoid locking her gaze on his jaw when he clenched his teeth in concentration, or when he drove his fingers through his hair, effortlessly, although it resembled a well-rehearsed sequence every time, she could not decipher.
Or, perhaps, she simply did not want to.
When she entered the empty house, the subtle smell of fresh paint still hung in the air, and she felt tired. She wanted to go back home. This was like a prolonged vacation gone south. And not just literally. Chris had made sure to find an excuse to get back to his place, and left her in peace to wash out the grass in her hair and put on some dry clothes.
She was glad, really. Having time to herself was a good thing. She had things to sort out. Boxes to empty. She might even write a letter for the ones back home.
Agnes kept herself busy until nightfall. When the light in the kitchen went out, she was tired. The smell of old wood still oozed through the perfumed particles from her mother's finest deodorant, which she had emptied on the walls to feel a bit less lonely. It was a mild comfort.
She wondered when they would be back. It still stung when she recalled her father's harsh words the night before they left. She had disappointed him. Her stomach writhed in discomfort when she remembered everything that led up to this. Perhaps this was karma. Her own personal punishment for being the worst daughter of a lifetime.
She blew out the candles inthe living room when the clock chimed 1 am and wrapped the blanket closeraround her body. The wind was whistling in the cracks, but she ignored it. Ifshe was going to survive here, she would have to make the best of thesituation. She had come to this conclusion before, but it seemed much moreimmediate this time around.
Author's Note:
so so so so so sorry about the laaaate update - and especially because I promised it would be up soon. I know it's short, but I figured better shorter, than later. (if you can make sense of that). I hope it'll do for a while - at least till we're past christmas. Merry Christmas/Happy Hanukkah/everything else you might celebrate this time of year. Thank you so much for being so kind. xxx
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Fragmented
Teen FictionHave you ever felt the urge to scream so loud your voice could break and your insides condense to stone? Agnes has. When she is dragged to a remote decrepit house on a mountainside in the middle of Austria, her life is at a standstill. Her paren...