The Darkened Whispers...

》Chapter 4《

Bored houses stood on either side of me, their blandness showed hilarity. Whizzing past them, I follow the map inside my head. People walked, chatting on their phones or speaking to their friends that walk beside them. Communication. I always thought it was interesting because of how belittling it is. Where any moment you could say the wrong thing and they will have that engraved inside their heads for a while. Either get sad or get mad. It's like a game of hangman. Say the wrong things and they commit suicide. How can someone trust someone else with their secrets? How are you not afraid that they'll judge you? Tell everyone that simple little thing to everyone and soon it's like a virus. Spreading from person to person. How will you know, deep in your heart that they won't? Mine are too much like a sinkhole, the more you know the deeper you'll sink. Never coming back. And so, i don't talk much about my past. Keep it hidden like a masquerade ball. But instead of people underneath those masks, there are demons with venom seeping out of their mouths. Unspeakable truths and words.

Basic conversation is useless. I don't care what you did or how you are because I don't know you. Not truly because i don't want to. I don't want you to know what lies beneath the darkened walls of society. But I don't want the awkwardness to spill so I talk the painful ways of communication. Otherwise, the awkwardness will feel like vomit that swirls throughout your whole body and then you wonder why you're even there.

The road stretches to the horizons with the identical housing estates. Like individuality gained agoraphobia when it saw how chilling society really is. Even though home is too, not a safe place but a dangerous one. People are vulnerable at their own home because they think it's their safe haven. No place is safe, each place has their probability of death. I learnt that the hard way. The way that needs no way of speaking of. Calculating messages travel through my mind. Screams filled my head. The past screams. My eyes no longer holding the shield. The shield holding all emotion behind bars. Banging my head against the headrest of my seat, I tried to knock out the buried emotions. To get them further down than 6ft below. Finally, I see Kristinas house. I should win an Oscar for how much I've fooled people in thinking that I'm perfectly fine. Her house, too a 2 story but the use of bricks makes it look more modernised. Glossy windows reflected the light even if covered with curtains due to the sun. The front garden grows rose bushes, ivy and varieties of flowers that no ordinary person could name. The sun makes the building glow and shine with the flowers reaching high. Her home always looks holy no matter what, though today something feels iffy. Though the glow tells differently, the atmosphere feels strong, heavy, tension. Kristina suddenly slams the door, making the whole house rattle. Storming towards me like a raging bull. Her hair a curly, chocolate brown shows her Latina blood. Her skin, a soft early autumn colour and her eyes a stormy skyline grey shows the true beauty in her genetics. Her tall, lean but thicker bones creates an angelic shadow. If only stereotypes could hang themselves, I would watch crazed. Though the way her body is tensed, I can tell clear as day that she's nonetheless, the opposite of an angel.

Slamming the car door, almost shattering the windows, as she sits down, I say "looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed".

"Shut-" Cutting her off, I try to make ends meet and entertain myself by pissing her off even more.

"Daddy issu-" I began to say before she interrupted me and glared me down with her death stare. Though that stare would make any grown man kneel, I've seen more scarier shit than that.

"I swear I will smash your head into that steering wheel of yours if you don't shut up" she says, not even trying to concile the irritation and anger inside her voice.

Silencing myself due to me knowing full well that she actually will in that state of hers. Her parents divorced 2 years ago so she lived with her father ever since then. Though that came with consequences, he's an alcoholic, constantly is overprotective and sometimes in his worst states of mind... blames her for her mother's leave in marriage. He keeps thinking that Kristina is going to leave like her mother did and so doesn't let her do much of anything. Barely even let me drive her to school. They fight constantly over his recklessness and strictness. Sometimes leaves her crying and trust me, if she's crying then something seriously fucked up happened. I guess life has us both on the wrong side of the dice. Dawn has now embraced the whole of earth and wrapped it in blue wrapping paper. The sun begins its travels and shines like the greatest oceans depths. Driving onto the road once again, I sprint passed the escapes of tommorow. Silence solidises inside the car and, though comforting, releases annoying flies of banished words inside my head. I haven't told her much, not much at all. Afraid to break the floor boards and let her inside the quicksand. Afraid she wouldn't get out. That's the thing with secrets, once you've told one, you've got them wanting more to fill the empty void inside their heads. For other people that's a bullet, drugs, alcohol. Does the same thing but has different measures. Entering the motorway, I notice the different people. Couples, families, singles, rich, poor, illegals. All different too. All. Different. Measures. Reaching town in under 5 mins you realize, see and sense a lot of things if you pay close attention. Kristina groans in frustration.

"There's that face again!". She says looking frustrated as ever. Almost constipated.

"What face?" I answer in question.

"That face you make when your smart arse is in a deep conversation with yourself. The face when you notice things other people do not". She says matter of factly. In a 'duh' tone as if she's Albert Einstein.

Ignoring the comment I enter the college parking lot, where all the alcoholics, future democrats and lawyers, sexaholics and the ordinary 'how the fuck did I get here' people are. The building is a 4 story 1880s old mess. Though the roof has been redone and made flat, the walls still make it seem that it'll soon calapse. The crumbling walls are a cream brown with students tears dripping all over it; and that is only one of the buildings in this campus. The windows are like my grandparents house. Musty with decaying age. However the exterior only fools you. Our school rugby players play a small game in the green surrounding areas. People keep saying in high school books, movies and novels how much of dickheads they truly are but here, surprisingly, their mature and respect other people; especially the future democrats and lawyers. It's strange isn't it? That's only because most of them barely passed their Gcses and only now realising how real and hard life really is. If only they knew the whole truth on how life's realities go way beyond exams and future jobs. Switching off the engine, I exit my car, locking it and walking away with Kristina right beside me. I've just turned normal...ordinary in the eyes of society.