Open Eyes (Phan)

Two

Dan

I slumped on my bed, wincing. With a sore and bloody arm, I wiped my splotchy, tear stained face and my puffy eyes. My throat ached from screaming. My entire body burned from the ordeal it just went through.

I carefully rested my head on the cold pillow. I couldn't see much in the darkness of my room. But I could just make out the the wall that was centimeters from my face.

I wasn't sure how bad my injuries were, the old and new ones. I wasn't really in the mood to see how wretched my body looked.

I let out a heavy sigh and moved my gaze to the window above my bed. It was growing darker outside. Stars were beginning to appear in the sky. I thought about how much I would love to be a billion light years away from here. Away from this entire shit-filled planet.

I closed my eyes for a second, which made me realize just how tired I was.

But that was usual. I was always tired. Some one who has an extremely exhausting life is going to be constantly tired.

I deserved everything that I got, though. I could accept it because I knew I deserved it.

I tried for about ten minutes to fall asleep, but with no avail. It didn't matter how utterly exhausted I was. I rarely got any sleep. Such is the case with insomnia. Such is the case with someone who doesn't deserve sleep.

So I did what I always do. I stayed awake and continued to stare at the wall and out the window, listening to the sounds of my drunken step dad as he moved about the house.

All night.

I was still awake when the first rays of sunlight streamed through the window. I watched as the sky turned orange, then pink, then blue.

I hadn't slept a wink all night, not even when my  step father stumbled into his own room at around three in the morning.

I finally heaved myself up when the sun had successfully climbed over the horizon. I crawled out of bed and changed clothes. I stifled groan after groan as fabric brushed against my burning wounds.

I snuck into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. My step father was still in his room, but that didn't mean he couldn't suddenly come barging out, deciding it was time for another round fun.

My face was a wreck. I didn't have any bruises marking my pale cheeks, but my entire face was red and splotchy. My eyes were dull and lifeless. Much like my emotions.

I spent half an hour straightening my curly brown hobbit hair. Once every strand was straight I left the bathroom, and then the house.

I took the same path to the bookstore as I had the previous day. I didn't see anyone as I crossed the main road. The only cars I saw passed by after I was safely on the other side.

The bookstore was busier than it had been when I entered. And by busier I mean a whole two people more. I didn't look directly at any of them as I made a beeline for my corner.

I caught a glimpse of black hair and pale skin before I shoved my body between the bookcases and into the safety of my special spot.

I plopped down onto the little bean bag.

And that is where I remained for three hours, messing with my phone without really caring about anything I was reading or playing.

I eventually felt myself begin to drift off, and I had to forcefully yank at my eyelids to keep them open. I remembered I hadn't stopped to grab caffeine on my way here.

With that thought in my head I scurried out of bookstore and back up the street to the little coffee shop on the corner. I hastily bought myself a caramel macchiato, then quickly returned to the bookstore. It was only about one in the afternoon. And I had no intention of going home until I absolutely had to.

I opened the door, and the bell twinkled merrily. I glanced around, and after finding no sign of human life I trudged over to my corner. I squeezed between the bookshelves once again. I turned, preparing to plop down on to the bean bag for the final time today.

I froze.

This was not supposed to happen.

There was not supposed to be another person back here.

And it wasn't just a random person that I had never ever seen before in my life. It was the guy with piercing blue eyes and dark hair and almost white skin. He was staring at a book he had open in his lap. The man was so drawn into what he was reading he didn't notice my arrival.

I was so shocked for a moment I couldn't move.

There was someone in my corner. What did I do? Did I ask him to leave? No, I most definitely could not do that. So I decided to just leave. He didn't even know I was there. If I just left, he would never know I was there.

I started backing up slowly. I had almost made it out without being detected when my foot hit the bottom of the bookshelf. I stumbled and tumbled backward, knocking into the wooden case behind me with a loud thud.

I didn't fall on my ass, fortunately. I wasn't stupid enough to fall on my ass.

But the noise had caused the beautiful man to snap his head up in surprise. He stood up quickly when he saw me standing there, my back pressed against the far bookcase.

It wasn't really that far. I was only about forty centimeters away from him.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" He exclaimed. I shuffled my feet and stared at the carpeted floor. "I thought you had left. So I figured it was okay to come back here."

He had been watching me? Had he been waiting for me to leave so he could sit back here?

I didn't say anything, or move my gaze from the ground.

"I'm Phil," he stated. There was a moment of silence, and I reluctantly glanced up. He was holding his hand out. It hovered in the empty air between us.