Chocolate Emergency

Seventeen Collision

Seventeen Collision

            The scariest part about being in love isn't the feeling itself. It's the moment when he reciprocates the feeling. When your heart collides with his, it's an impact that's meant to leave some scars.  The moment when his eyes reflect the emotion deep inside your heart, the moment when you can't hold yourself and fall- are the most terrifying yet exhilarating fragments of love.  You break away from everything; eyelids are closed as you fall, deeper and deeper into a bottomless ocean. You can only pray for the collision to be perfect- to tie your broken pieces and not to shatter everything apart.

            Breaths leave me in a slow drag. There is light as the surrounding come to life. The first the thing I see is a portrait. Golden beading pulls the frame together, inside it there is a painting- not just any painting. It's Devlin. It's a Devlin I don't know. 

            Pale pastel pallets of colors weave through the canvas- brown eyes are painted hauntingly on the panel- he isn't smiling. He looks lost as he holds himself in a daunting manner. The softness of his contours reveals his younger self. A regal black coat holds his arms in place. His midnight hair are combed neatly to one side. The man in the painting doesn't resemble the Devlin I know.  There isn't a playful light in his eyes or the teasing smile on his lips. The pits of his eyes are hollow and dead. The man appears to be a dead corpse.

            A cold shiver runs down the length of my spine. I avert my eyes from the painting and take in the surroundings.

            My body is sprawled across a black leather sofa and there's a pillow neatly tucked beneath my head. The room is enormous and forebodingly dark. There is a spherical mahogany table opposite to me, long chairs with intricate craving of roses and thorns are placed by the table. The walls are painted black, pitch black. If it weren't for the coral shaped lamps, I would have never seen the walls.

            I lift my sore body from the sofa, nearly falling back down in the process.  My breaths halt when I take in the figure leaning on the windowsill.

            He stares at me, his eyes blank and dark. The placid expression on his face doesn't change as he watches me sit up on the sofa. A blue tie hangs off his neck while a grey coat covered his shoulders.  His hands grip the ledge- the skin around his knuckles is white. The starless sky peeks in from the parted window.

            He doesn't make a move to advance towards me.

"Devlin," I speak up, my voice resounds in the silent room. I feel scared. "Does my dad know?"

            He shakes his head, his lips drawn in a tight line.

            "Where are we?" I ask, standing up from the sofa. My legs give up and I fall back down. The room spins around me; I grip my head which was hurting like I've been hit by a cargo ship. The side of sofa sinks as Devlin takes a seat beside me. His cool fingers are pressed against my burning forehead. The beats of my heart increase drastically.

            He doesn't say anything and massages my temple- the tips of fingers running in small circles. The pain subdues to some extent. A sigh of relief escapes my lips.

            In a fraction of a second, his hands fall down and I instantly miss his touch. I pressed my spine against the sofa, trying to control the wild, flustering feelings inside me.

            "Where are we?" I repeat, my voice sounded hoarse.

            I turn my head to look at him. He holds my gaze, fiercely and protectively. I wait and wait for him to utter a word but not a sound leaves his chapped lips. My heart falls inside me. Why isn't he saying anything? Is he mad at me?