"CANNONBALL!" A loud and gleeful shout surprises us as the door shuts itself quickly.
A heavy object suddenly crashes on my stomach, making me lose my balance. As my body falls onto the luxurious carpet, my nose catches the scent of strawberries and citrus.
'What kind of heavy object smells like strawberries and citrus?' I wondered.
"Oliver! Oliver! It's about time you visit us again!" To my surprise, a middle aged woman was on top of me. Her soft strawberry curls hang loosely from the hair tie, her clothes were wrinkled, and last but not the least, the eye capturing part was: her bright green eyes.
As soon as mine came in contact with hers, my heart started to beat wildly. I feel a sharp stab on my head, it was as if needles were put inside it. I lift my hand to soothe the pain.
My head's being torn apart.
I cry in agony as I push the lady off me. Curling into a fetal position, I eventually gave up and let the excruciating stabs continue with tormenting my mind. The room suddenly spins and Oliver and the woman are nothing but a blurry image.
"Thank you." A smooth baritone voice suddenly echoes within the depths of my memories.
The hurt suddenly intensified, its strong effects travel down towards my chest. I bit down the urge to scream, even if I was in such pain, it doesn't give me a reason to create a commotion amongst the passengers. If I did, Oliver would be in deep trouble.
"June, baby, what's happening to her?" The woman asks.
"It might be a memory trigger." Oliver answers her question directly.
"Is she going to die?" She asks again.
"What do you mean 'is she going to die'?" A new voice joins the group. It was a girl's, but this time, it was coated with maturity and coldness, "we're all—" and before she could even finish what she's saying, someone had placed their hand on her mouth.
"June." Oliver calls out to her calmly but with the hint of warning. 'June', what an interesting name for someone. Soon I hear their footsteps walk away from my pathetic state.
"She doesn't know yet?!" She shouts at him with disbelief. Their voices were muffled, probably they went into another cart.
A warm hand suddenly brushes my sweaty hair away from my face. Its slender fingers comb my tangled strands. "You have a very beautiful hair," the childish woman coos, "I wish my daughter was here so I could do the same."
Someone lifts my body off the floor and lays me down on one of the seats. My head finally rests on a lap. Strawberries and citrus hits my nose, relaxing my tense muscles. The woman plays with my hair again and as I succumb myself to the pain and her gentle touches, I swear I heard 'June' whisper:
"But I am here."
YOU ARE READING
The Train Of Regrets
Adventure"You don't know, do you?" He asks in a hush and still tone. "Know what?" He hands me a pamphlet showing a painting of two children watching a train flying over them, it was as if they were interrupted by the roars of a steam engine. I flip the paper...
