Behind The Walls

THREE

9 February 2013

I am here; restrained by family because of something that is truly not my fault. How could they? How can they not believe me after all that? It’s just my imagination? Screw imagination. I was in the hands of someone that is clearly been on my trail for god knows how long.

“Narelle, maybe I could drive you to the training center. It has been weeks that you haven’t even meet Callaway and Trinity. They need news you know?”

“Oh now you care? Such great timing, sis.”

“Oh come on. I’m going to hang this picture on the wall, which part?”

I pointed aimlessly and she still hangs the photograph near a picture of a hummingbird that hangs around my room almost every dawn.

“By the way, who’s this? I never saw him. You took this?”

I wake up from my bed and kicked my blanket away. Gray hoodie, gray watch, gray shoes.

“Oh my god. That’s him. That’s the guy.”

“This? Oh sis, it must’ve been someone just walking pass by. Pack your equipment and let’s just go.”

I glanced away from her and stared deeply into her hazel brown eyes. I stayed that way for a few seconds and then went out my door.

…

08:07. “You little shit, I was waiting for you. I’ve been stuck listening to her story about the conspiracy of Bermuda. It’s like the 76 times and it’s killing me how I actually count.”

I smirked while reaching for my white hairband inside my gym bag. Trinity kept on babbling about why does the Bermuda exist even though Callaway kept on fisting his own palm impatiently. The only conspiracy I care about right now is those gray hoodie of his. I put on my fight position in the arena and the bell rang.

...

14:15. He was the one who always appear in my photographs. How can I not notice? He was right there in my lens distance and I didn’t even know. Mr. Barnaby passed by, tossing a key to his assistance, Laura Costalleno or whom I like to call, Stars because of her last name.

“How are you feeling, miss?” Stars tapped my shoulder as I stare into my own photographs hanging inside the wooden frame that has been polished. I just smiled and shrugged while keeping my eye on every photo.

Gray hoodie, gray watch, gray shoes. That’s him, that’s him! He appeared in every competition I attend. He’s always watching. Like he always say.

…

22:46. Why am I still awake? I’ve been staring at the same view for the last 2 hours and still feeling like having caffeine inside me. Maybe they’re right. I’m being delusional. Everything is just a figment of my imagination running wild against the boredom of the world. Or whatever it is.

I hanged the letters he gave me. I’m going to find you. I guess I will.