Mind Or Matter

Chapter Fifty One

The Tree

William sat on the hill under the tree, its leaves fiery red, blowing in the soft October breeze. He read a book on psychology, his legs crossed, one hand below his chin and the other holding the pages down from the strong breeze. It was October 5th, 2015. William had his Student Psychiatry classes starting that year, and he was excited to teach all of his new students about the field he loved – the mind.

The hill, the one that's grass what empty except for William and the tree, lingers behind the Miami Mental Hospital. Ellie, almost fourteen years old, lay on an operation table, where medical doctors tested electric shocks on the poor girl, who was strapped down to the cold metal, screaming.

But, of course, all that William was aware of was the sound of ocean waves crashing onto the shore and the birds singing, flying south for the winter yet to come.

William wasn't aware of the girl standing at the foot of the hill, staring up at him with a smile of curiosity. She had decided to walk to the beach to take her mind off of her terrible boyfriend.

William didn't see her shimmery, grey eyes or the straight pink hair she had recently dyed at the end of summer.

William couldn't hear her singing voice, humming the song Photograph by Ed Sheeran, which had just come out that May.

William's eyes only saw his black and white world – him versus the others that didn't really exist; him versus nothing. It didn't matter if he made several friends or just one – everyone dies alone. It's like that movie, William thought to himself, Donnie Darko.

The girl with the grey eyes, however, saw a different world – a world of happiness and opportunity, a place of kindness and positive energy. She saw the world like it was a song – sure, there were the parts that some people didn't like and there were a few chunks that people wanted to fast-forward and get over with. But she often remembered the good parts, the melody, the bass... everything that was made to fit in. Whenever you think about your favorite song, she often thought, you don't think about the boring or slow parts, you think of the chorus or the center of everything, the part that pulls everything together, the part that makes you want to laugh, cry, dance, and sing all at the same time. When you look at life, you think of the happiness.

And there were the accidentals – the notes that were different, the small percent that stuck out. But they were made to be different. And, in a tune, when a song has a note that's sharp or flat, a little bit higher or lower, it complimented everything else around them.

Some things in meant weren't perfect, but they were meant to be.

"Hey!" the girl called, standing on her toes a bit. She stood barefoot, wearing a short white summer dress that stopped right above her knees.

William looked up from his book, the wind blowing his dark brown hair in the same direction it blew the girls'. "Hello," he called, looking back down at his book right after the word escaped from his mouth. He didn't see a point to talking to this random girl, so he decided to wait until she left.

But she didn't. Instead, the pretty girl with the pink hair, which barely passed her shoulders, began to take short, quick steps up the hill. Soft grass touched the soles of her feet, cooled from last nights' rain.

The hill was perfect, special, and the girl could tell. And she could sense something about the man, who couldn't be more than three years older than her, that was also special. Something about his dark hair, the way they went perfect with his light brown eyes, the color of honey.