Beautiful Disaster

Beautiful Disaster Chapter 3

Chapter 3

                I turn the showerhead off the water dripping to immediate stop.

                Steam rises, seeping into the ceiling. The warm-cooled water drips down my exposed skin as I drag the glass door open. I stroke my hand through my hair twisting any extra water from it.

                Why are my wings black, Avala?

                A teal colored towel, matching the color of the walls, lays perfectly folded on the bath’s step. I quickly grab it wrapping it tightly around my body.

                Do you remember anything, anything before that?

                “Huh,” I grumble taking seat on the two marbled stairs that lead up to the tub. “Can’t believe that vari did it.” Gazing up I see on the opposite wall that looks down on the tub is a flat screen TV with a built in electric fire place beneath it. DVD’s and their empty cases are scattered about on the mantle.

                I get up leisurely, shaking the thoughts of Poppy’s obsession with movies. It does not bother really his words keep sinking within me piling over and over again in my mind. Troy never lies unless he has a reason to…

                Forget what I told you. Everything, okay? Because it’s—

                He sounded urgent, too urgent than ever before. But the last word hanged in the air…unfinished. I dry myself down with Poppy’s borrowed towel. The way he had looked at me in the balcony it was as if he had lost the most precious thing in the world. Satisfied enough with a few wet spots, I let the towel seep down to my ankles as I walk over to the mirror.

                My brown hair casts down my shoulders linking in chucks from the water holding it together. Orbs of water drag down my angular cheeks bones and off the edge. The warm humanity of the air warms my skin. I look straight at my eyes; the hazel color is dark against my skin. But there’s a sort of age lies beneath them. What could it be? What does Troy see when he looks into them?

                What’s Troy been hiding?

***

                I had thrown on some denim shorts and an olive colored spaghetti strap tank to match. Troy had gone downstairs before leaving an apology letter beside the bathroom door. The little note was stuffed in my front pocket where it lays like a burning reminder of guilt and lies. However, it didn’t reveal anything interesting. He’s just sucking up and hoping and praying that I’ll soon forgive him.

                Which is true—but I hate how he can predict me so well.

                The moment I enter the kitchen I see Troy leaned up against a countertop farthest away where Leonor discusses something to him in hushed tones. He looks up meeting his eyes with mine. He smiles softly—but instead of a hoard of butterflies castigating in the pit of my stomach an aching pain nails inside my heart. I look away angry and sad all at once.

                “Poppy shut-up.” Izzy sits at the dinning which is inside a perfect square eight-by-eight nook, a far corner created to fit an oval shaped dining table; seating six all together. Her nest of hair has been groomed and brushed into a sort of intricate wave of curls. Around her eyes is thick and heavy make-up of black and grey’s mixing all together; letting out the jade in her slanted eyes.