Then I Saw Him...

Victor~The Past Should Be The Past....Right?

I sprang up from the soft layer of what seemed to be feathers. My head was dizzy, my eyes dry from tears once again. Was I safe from my nightmares?
The bright sun was in my eyes until my eyes adjusted and laid rest on her – Cynthia. I'm happy for what she did, even though I know she didn't want me here. That pang of terror in her eyes last night hurt me.
"Sleep well?" her soft and soothing voice asked.
She was looking down, reading a gigantic book. Her glasses were the same as when we were younger, huge frames that always slide down her nose. I smiled softly and laid back down, looking up at the ceiling, "Better than most nights, that's all I can say."
Cynthia was still half in her bed. Her legs were draped in her panda bed sheets. I thought smiling, After all this time, she still loves the big gigantic "pondah". I remember when we were around 7 years old when I showed her the picture book of cute pandas.
       "That's good," she said kind of sourly.
       "Yea..."
       I sat up and stared out the window, thinking, Am I never going to be forgiven? Did I make her lose too much too fast??...I was a stupid boy...
        She shifted, turning the other way. At that moment I could tell I shouldn't have come back to her, her parents, even generally close.
        I was about to get up to run away again, but then she questioned, "Why don't we go to our secret hide out and talk about it? Or even just get to catch up? I know this is uncomfortable, but these questions have been storming in my mind for...well forever."
       My mind was boggled, this was the most she had spoken to me in a very long time. She still trusted me, but at the same time was very cautious. The tragic past scarred her precious mind.
       "That secret hideout...you still remember it? H...how? Is it even there?"
        "Of course, I go there on some days to let loose, too."
        I looked at her and grinned, "Awesome, because I left something there a while back. I'm kind of, kind of not glad you didn't find it."
        She gave me an angry look and kicked me repeatedly, "Why. Do. You. Always. Hide. Things. So. Weellllllll!!!"
       "Owwwww, what the frick~~!"
       "Hmph, that's what you get," she threw the book at my shoulder, "fack you!"
       "Fack you, too!" I began to tickle her tiny feet, her one of few weaknesses – sensitive everywhere.
       She jumped out of bed, panting and getting into a fighting stance. I rolled off the other side of the bed and imitated her.
       "HIYAAAA!!" I yelled mockingly.
       Cynthia grabbed a pencil and threw it at my head, but it missed. As always, her aim was terrible.
       She scowled and squinted at me, "You're terrible, you assbutt." (Supernatural reference)
        I laughed and quickly made my move, pouncing across the bed and tackle hugging her. Her face was buried in my chest, but her fighting spirit managed to let her smack my face a billion times.
        "Mmmph sphankkky blagggghh!" she yelled into my shirt.
        "Say..." she smacked me again in the mouth, "sorry!.." she hit my forehead.
         Her flailing stopped and she muffled, "sphorreee!!"
         I let her go and she immediately flung her hands to her mouth, "I wanted breakfast! Not stinky shirt!!"
         She glared at me and grabbed a bag of what seemed to be bathroom things. Then Cynthia darted out of the room quickly.
         I rubbed my head and smiled at the floor. My face was hot and I started downstairs, smacking my cheeks. The smell of Cynthia's mom's pancakes made my mouth water like a famished
dog.
         The familiar smells made me think if when we were around the ages of six and seven (I'm older than her by six months).

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We just spent the night in the living room, and we slept in our make-shift tents. The jumble of blankets and pillows being tossed and draped around the room made it seem so lively. I woke up first, awoken by my growling stomach.
Walking into the cherry wood floor of the kitchen brought life into my eyes. Cynthia's mother turned towards me and smiled that sweet, motherly smile.
I put my finger to my lips, indicating the sleeping Cynthia in the tent. Then her mother handed my two heaping plates of bacon, sunny-side up eggs (Cynthia's favorite), and sweet pancakes drizzled in maple syrup. The aroma was so perfect that I almost gobbled up both of the plates.
Tiptoeing back to the tent, I carefully slipped in and laid the plate next to her nose. I ate my food slowly and quietly, careful not to wake her.
         In a quick amount of time, Cynthia started drooling and woke up with the food steaming in her face. I tried to suppress my laughter, but I spat food everywhere, laughing at her. Of course she started hitting me frantically though.