Fix A Heart

Chapter 1 - Camila.

Memories.

Dreaded memories of times which I wish I couldn't remember; memories of things I wish had never happened. And yet they reappeared, insistent albeit faint, just as he was to begin with, then proceeding into flashbacks, into feelings of hands and feet, and lips and touch, and words and noises, and grunts and moans, and screams and cries, and jokes and laughter. And I could recount every single time that it happened, vividly, with no doubt to my words, with no hesitation.

And yet, even with all the memories and the certainty that what I remembered was real, I dared not open my mouth to utter the secrets he once whispered in my ears. I dared not whisper the things I'd longed to say for such a time that I was drowning in thoughts of words which my lips could form, yet my voice could not project. And maybe that was why I was still trapped in the place I'd been locked in for such a long time; even though the door was now open.

There is this beautifully constricting metaphor about being trapped: "Yeah, as long as we know we're trapped, we still have a chance to escape." I doubt that I will ever find out how to escape; and even if I did, I doubt I'd take the chance.

+++

"Hello, earth to Mila?" Dinah, my best friend, flicked her fingers in front of my face to get my attention.

I looked at her and smiled to say sorry, my cheeks reddening at having been caught out. She chuckled and shook her head. "You're always so far away, aren't you? I wonder what goes through that little mind of yours." She laughed again and I smiled as a way of reassuring her.

Dinah often made comments like this - they were her attempts at trying to get me to communicate. She was, by far, the hardest person not to speak to, not to laugh at. My mom often tried to get me to speak through small actions, like speaking to me through questions, trying to get an answer out of me (her shoulders sagged a little bit every time I didn't). But Dinah was so much harder not to answer - I always wanted to return her banter with one of my own comebacks but I couldn't. She didn't push me. I was grateful for that.

It wasn't always a bed of roses, though. Sometimes she said things, like this, trying to encourage me, and it hurt me that I was hurting her... but there was nothing I could do about it.

I waved a hand to tell her it wasn't much. My banana ice cream was nearly all melted. I sighed and set my spoon down inside the cup then got up to go and get myself a straw. This local Coldstone was strangely busy today. Nearly all the tables were full of groups of people, mostly high school kids joking about.

I approached the counter, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear so I didn't have to take my hair bow off to put it into place again. As I was looking at the floor while doing it, I didn't notice there was someone in front of me so, when I landed first on my butt on the ground, I was unpleasantly surprised. My face scrunched up as I landed.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," a girl, around my age, said as she helped off my ass.

I looked up as she pulled me to my feet. Once I'd met her eyes, electricity pursed through me as her green orbs shone in the dim light in the ice cream parlor. They looked like emeralds which had stars in them. Your eyes hold my universe within them. Gasping, I got to my feet, still looking into her eyes. I couldn't look away - I was mesmerised by her beauty.

"I'm really sorry," she said, still not letting go off my hand. We held each other's gazes for more than a few seconds. My friends don't look at me like you do. "I'm Lauren."

I smiled. She looked confused. This was the normal reaction that I got out of people when we first met. I took a napkin out of the pile and a pen from the counter to write my response.