Alice is drowning, but it's not something she likes to admit, even to herself. She's stuck in a whirlwind of bad habits and bad influences. But on the night of a crazy outing, she meets Erik, who teaches her a little something about the meaning of l...
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Sitting across from Erik, I could see the after-sex glow on his face and I'm sure I radiated the same brightness. We'd just put our orders into the tiresome waitress, whose eyes were still lingering on Erik from the back counter.
Without so much as a mere conscience thought about my actions, I reach across the table and slip my hand into Erik's. The waitress dips her head in either disappointment or embarrassment. I typically wasn't the type of girl to be possessive, but I am selfish. I didn't want to spend the remainder of my time with Erik, stuck in a diner, where a flirtatious waitress didn't know her place. So, I made my ambitions even clearer to her by leaning over and kissing Erik softly and shortly. He's still mine for the next hour.
Erik has a beaming smile splayed on his lips and it makes me hate myself. His thumb gently caresses the top of my hand and it makes my gut wrench. This stranger I only met hours prior was showering me with affection unlike I'd ever experienced before. And as the minutes tick away, the guilt becomes unbearable.
It was easy to act like nothing mattered and reality didn't exist when the sky was black, but as the sun had risen on our drive to the diner, the ache in my heart was deeper than at midnight. And it loomed on me that I may have made a great mistake.
London will hate me.
Erik will forget me.
It dwelled on me, that once again, I'd be left alone. And it made me want to die. Harsh, but too true.
This night had been everything I could've dreamed of, but it was all wrong. The wrong time, wrong place, wrong person; but it felt right. The longing I feel for this kind of compassion, freedom, and life, is too strong. And it feels like torture knowing I'll never be able to fully grasp it.
I wish I would've drowned in that pool. I wish I never would have met Erik at all. Then I wouldn't have come to this life revelation that I didn't have anything I truly wanted. That I might never get the life I craved. And I sure as hell don't have many opportunities coming my way.
I could break up with London, but what would that leave me with. Nothing. No home, no friends, no money...no love. I'd be seventeen with no place to go and no one to care. I'd be alone.
My eyes swell up with a fountain of tears but I refuse to let them fall because Erik has already noticed. He's seconds away from asking questions I won't answer when the waitress comes back and sets our buffet of food in front of us. I use the distraction and immediately begin munching on the nearest thing. Erik's stare lingers for a few moments longer but I give no attention to it, and he soon focuses on the food instead of my obvious frown.
We don't talk. Neither of us utters a word as the food slowly disappears. It's not till my last bite that I realize I won't be able to avoid Erik and his suspicion any longer. And he knows this too.
He sets his fork down and raises his head to meet eyes with me, "do you wanna talk about it?"
It took everything in me to not let my thoughts come spewing out of my mouth. To not let my endless tears arise again.
I don't want his pity.
I don't like to share my feelings and internal issues, because I hate sympathy. I hate the way people's faces contort when they find out the things I've gone through and the dark thoughts shrouding my mind. I've seen the face too many times. A mix of sympathy and confusion; because most people can't understand how I feel. And most people certainly don't know what to say after hearing my peace. So, why would Erik be any different?
A lump has set deep within my throat and I feel an invisible weight on my shoulders, sinking me into the booth. I need to disappear; because I'm one breath away from breaking down.
The only response I can manage is a shake of my head, implying "no".
But, just like I've noticed throughout the night, Erik doesn't take 'no' for an answer. My eyes have drifted down to staring at my empty plate, not being able to bare looking up at Erik and whatever facial expression his beautiful face holds. Unlucky for me, Erik can be very persuasive.
I watch as his hand snakes across the table to grasp onto mine, but I still refuse to look up.
I want to tell him everything. I want to rant to him for hours about all the messed-up things in my life and mind—because I trusted him. I felt so safe and comfortable around him throughout the night, something I haven't felt in a long time.
And just like I tried so hard not to do, a tear slips out. Within seconds, Erik slid into the booth with me and wrapped his arms around me securely. I can't hold it in any longer.
I burrow my head into his chest not only to hide from the other patrons in the diner but from him. I'm an ugly crier. Especially when I've gone so long holding everything in and it all finally comes bursting out.
My mind becomes a black haze as I sob. Erik's warm presence and caressing hands, however, are a soothing mechanism.
I feel him. Not just his touch, but his emotions. And it felt like every ounce of him cared. Even though I've told him nothing.
My grasp on him doesn't let up as I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I need to clear my mind or the tears will take over again. So, I let go.
It's this trick I've learned over the years. The way I explain it is, that my mind is always buzzing and the only way to make it quiet is to force it to be. It's like I shut down the part of my brain that exerts emotion and feelings, and then I don't feel at all. I'm numb.
This is how I've survived. Having the capability to turn off my thoughts when it becomes too much. I figured out how to do so when I was fifteen because back then I was very depressed but I still had hope. I still had faith in living. So when the demons in my mind came to persuade me to death, I'd shut them up.
However, this time feels different. I feel too numb. I don't feel Erik's flooding emotion or the warmth of his touch. I feel cold and unaccepting. Or maybe I feel nothing at all because when I unburrow myself from Erik's chest, all I can think about is what time is it?
I don't want to talk or play anymore. I want to be alone. Which even I know isn't what I need or what's particularly best for me and my mental state.
But I can't stand to be around Erik any longer.
I wipe my eyes with the sleeves of Erik's jacket I still am wearing. The first thing I look at with my irritable eyes is the clock above the kitchen entrance, the vintage clock hands ticking away, if it weren't for the 80's rock music humming through the speakers it would be deafening in the empty diner.
