Sinking

recalcitrant

It took another two weeks for anything to happen with Phil.

I didn't know why I was being so stubborn; I had found many instances where I just wanted to answer his calls or go to Chris's house and just hold him in my arms again because no matter how much pain he had caused in the hearts of both me and himself, I knew that being apart only hurt more.

But I was a recalcitrant, a trait of mine which most of the time was extremely annoying, and yet I couldn't change it.

It was February 28th now, and I still hadn't gone to work or really left my house. Troye had come over a week after PJ had, stating he knew about the problem and we weren't going to talk about it. He sang to me some lyrics that he'd written without me and then asked for my advice on the rest of them. We'd watched some 80's movies before Tyler came to pick him up and the couple left. I had to admit that my friend's visit had helped me a lot, it made me feel like all wasn't lost because I did still have people that cared for me.

The flowers Phil had sent were in a vase on my bedside table, still bright and blooming, as if they were doing that just to show me that I could have a love that resembled them. I'd even painted the plants; the colors calmed me.

At some point during midday I looked outside to check the weather, and I saw someone on the sidewalk of whom at that moment I wished I hadn't.

It was none other than Phil, walking across the street near the end of the block, hands in his pockets and a look on his face of which I could only label as determination. When he came onto our street and headed towards our houses, I expected him to walk up my yard and attempt to get me to open the door again. But instead, he went to his house.

The confusion was immediate, and I narrowed my eyes as he just walked into the place he hadn't been in in months.

Without hesitation, my feet were taking me down the stairs and I ignored my brother's questions as to why I was actually leaving my room as I opened the front door and stepped out into fresh air for the first time in weeks. I didn't want to make it obvious that I was paying attention to what he was doing, so I stayed close to the tiles on my house as I snuck as close as I could to the end of the yard to possibly hear what was happening and why.

The neighbourhood was quiet. The only sounds were that of light wind blowing, as the birds seemed to have vanished that day and no one was walking around and there were no cars on our street. It was as if the world was waiting behind a pile of snow for anyone to do anything to break the deafening hush of, from this perspective, the whole universe.

And then I heard muffled shouting.

My mind was racing uncontrollably, but I pressed my hand against my forehead as if to slow down the pounding against my temple, straining my eardrums to try and make out the words being yelled in the house only ten feet away from me.

"Did you think-" I made out. "Disappear?"

"It's your- being- way!" Phil's voice.

"You're- regret-"

"Go- why not- kill me?"

There was a smothered scream, and I forced myself to keep my feet where they were. Only forty seconds later, the front door opened, and I placed my hand over my mouth and moved backward, pressing against the tall bush behind me and hoping that the man retreating down the sidewalk would not turn around and notice my presence.

I was lucky, because he did not.

I ran to the front of Phil's house, swinging the door open with ease since it was not locked. I almost tripped over a table that was knocked over, quickly pulling myself back into the now before shouting "Phil?" When there was no response, I went up the stairs because it made more sense for him to be there. "Phil!"