How I Met Mr Jinn ✔️

Chapter Fifteen

His Voice

While others danced among the fallen leaves or wrapped around a cotton quilt, others stared and thought. Their eyes lost between wanders and words. Uninterrupted by the laughter outside, nor the cold as it blew wildly from the open window. Or even the breeze that danced into the silence of the quite.

They rocked their chair back and forth, their eyes blind of colors, they repeated the cycle nonstop. It was close to a dreadful addiction, but more of a craving, really. They wanted to retrieve what was forever lost, and I knew very well, it wasn't possible. But the pages of the forgotten, still held a place in my head, even if it was miles away. It was still there, hiding somewhere in the corner. And I hated it. I absolutely hated it.

The bright yellow pencils, blew with commotion back and forth whenever a breeze would come. And every time, I felt a strange, painful, presence of emptiness. And it seemed, that the more I waited for it to silence its thunder, it would only get more painful.

I let out a sigh.

Nothing seemed to cross my mind. Nothing at all, though it sounds too strange to believe. Also, Nothing broke me out of the circle I've been walking on repeatedly, except the one voice that was starting to fade away. His voice.

"Are you ok?" He asked, stepping closer, with concern and worry painting his face pale.

Our eyes met for a period of time too short to call a second, but it was more than enough to question his appearance. Its been 17 days if I counted correctly, And they dragged on like heavy pounds of pure copper, or steel if it's as dark. But When they settled back from their dangerous flight, questions tugged and pulled- craving for answers. Answers to questions I could never come to ask.

Furthermore, I stayed silent.

"Your starting to scare me," he stated.

"Ha," I chuckled, "And why would I ever be as scared of a person who could never be seen. Or even noticed."

Words hurt. Like thorns from a newly plucked rose, dead, but still able to fight back. His reaction didnt stop me... It encouraged me to break more of his self-esteem like a hungry beast, tackling only to survive. In a forest we call life, this was the only rule we truly obeyed. Kill or be killed, as they say.

I knew that what I was doing was wrong, and his expression was a fair clue to that. Perhaps it hurt more coming from me, the only one he had opened up to about anything, but either way, words did their magic and everything was settled.

"Oh.. your still mad." He said to himself, "And you'd think a week or so was enough to punch threw a few walls."

Seventeen days, idiot. Seventeen damn days.

I stayed put, facing the desk quietly, like an autumn leaf browning silently. He was Seeking an area out of trouble, that was why he stepped away, and into the shadows of the corner he went. I couldn't see all of his moves, but knowing him, I knew what he would do. He was clever. He knew when to give up and when to fight. A quality I had always wished for.

The cruel part of me wanted him to stay and see with his own two eyes how I was perfectly fine without him, an act. While the more earthly one begged him to leave. I, however, wanted him to say something- anything because if he was going to leave after this awkward silence, I might as remember his last words to me to be something worth remembering. After all, it isn't every day when you meet someone from the other world.

"How's life?" It came out from a broken, and weak throat. Tearing itself apart before any tears could fall. I've used that tone a few times, I guess that was why I knew what would happen next... Yet mercy wasn't a choice. "Fine, thank you very much," I muttered.