The Eyes of a Murderer (Watty Awards 2013)

Chapter 10: Sadomasochistic

  We sat around the house talking about stupid things. I resisted questioning her about what was going on and wound up telling her everything about me. She found a way to erase all the questions in my mind and get me talking about just myself, even though I only wished to know who she really was. In the process of the day all I had found out was that her favorite color is twilight. Which is not a color at all, but it created an image in my mind, where the sun sets just over the hills of the small cottage. The orange and yellow mixing into one bright luminance. 

Before I knew it we were outside sitting in the grass with the mountains dispatching themselves in front of us.

If anything at all was more beautiful than the sun setting it was her. Like the sweetest side of this mysterious girl came up as the sun was going down. She slipped her hands through the sleeves of her sweater, hugging her knees to her body. Her eyes stayed on the moutains. 

"You know." She spoke slowly, like she was trying to find the right words. "I like this." 

"What?" I asked. 

"Sitting here, watching the sun set."  

"Yea it's beautiful." I smiled watching the sun take its time, sinking below the moutains and leaving behind an orange and black horizon. There hasn't been many moments in my life where I felt truly at peace, yet I find this immaculate amount of serenity in the midst of all this chaos. I can easily tell that Mystic hasn't had very much either. There are moments where she completely freezes up. Right in the middle of our conversations her mind seems to go somewhere else and she stares in to space, thinking about God knows what nightmares she has had to go through. 

I'm surprised I didn't see it before. She looked so well put together but it has taken me a day and some hours to realize that Mystic is truly broken. I glance at her from the side and notice that her face looks pained.

"Every time I had to come here, it was by myself. Everything feels better with you here." 

I let it pass my mind as if she never said it, I pretend it doesn't phase me. But it did. And she knew it. I knew my feelings towards her grew every hour we were together. I could feel it enclasping me. I was falling with an acceleration incomprehensible to man. It hurt me that she won't even let me in. I want to help, it's all I have been trying to do.

But she has this protective barrier up. It locks me out and all I can do is watch her in pain. I felt the hopelessness you feel, when someone is severely ill and you want to take the pain away but you can't because the situation doesn't include you. It includes them and what they have to fight. I couldn't fight Mystic's battles. I could barely manage my own. I've been waiting for a moment where I can take away at least a quarter of the pain.

We sat there in the quiet until the place was completely dark. She lifted her self off the grass and walked toward the cottage and I got up and did the same, not following her. I was just scared. Don't judge me. 

 She took wood from underneath a small table and carried it to the bedroom then came back out. 

"There's water in those two pales. It's clean and you can wipe off if you need to." She pointed to two dark containers in the corner of the room. 

"Is this how we will be showering for the time we're here?" I asked. Her face looked confused.

"No, nasty." She answered. I chuckled. "There's a river 2 miles from here."

I groaned. 

She took one of the buckets and walked into her room then closed the door. I took up the rag that sat over the pale and took off my shirt and washed down my body. The door suddenly opened again and she peered out. I jumped and the rag fell out of my hand.