Holiday season is coming to an end and so I have a minute to write another chapter or two. I'm starting this on 10/29/18 but idk when it'll be published. Love you all who are reading this and thinking it's not half bad.
~ER
Edit on 1/15/19: I'm in school trying to write rn but I literally have no idea what the hell to write about. If you are reading this by some freaking miracle, feel free to PM me or comment some ideas. Thanks 😊 ❤
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Erik finds me sobbing on the couch. Or he hears me first. I hear the drop of bags near the door and his quick footfalls rushing to the couch. Like always he quickly comforts me and lets me cry on his shoulder. And like always it makes my heart skip a beat despite the tears pouring down my face.
He eventually goes and picks up the bags with half melted ice cream in them. We ate our ice cream (now more like milkshakes) and watched whatever uber cheesy romance movies were on the Hallmark channel. I cried a little more when a movie came on about a girl who found a lost dog and then met its owner at the shelter. The dog owner and the girl eventually fall in love. That was the movie that made me say goodnight to Erik and go to my room.
The images of the movie play in my mind. The girl enjoying her coffee when some guy starts flirting with her. Not in an overly gross and weird way but subtly. The girl walking down the street and hearing a dog whining in an alley. The whole bringing her to the vet then calling the owner. Who just so happens to be the guy who she turned down earlier.
I cry as the images flood my mind. Soon the movie melds together with reality and I'm crying hard. Or I think I am because when I go to wipe my face off, I find dried trails of tears. I've run out of tears so all I can do is let the silent, tearless sobs tears through me.
After I can breathe a little, I stand up and go into the bathroom. My reflection is scary. My hair partially up in some version of a messy bun, I cut it too short to be pulled up all the way. There are dried tear stains on my cheeks, mascara marks and under eye shadow leaving streaks down my cheeks.
Taking a deep breath, I grab a wash cloth and turn the sink on the wash my face. Just breathe. Just. . .breathe.
My breathing slows and I keep taking deep breaths, my lungs aching from trying to grab so much air. There's a hitch my breath for a few minutes before I look back into the mirror. My mascara trailed down farther, the water on my face carrying down my chin. Some black drops fall off and land in the sink, some race down under my chin and down my neck. I look like I'm just crying black. And that could be true, I wouldn't care.
There's a light knock on the door and my breathing picks up again. I grab my towel from the rack and wet it, rubbing under my eyes and on my face to try and clean up a little. The door opens before I can do more than smudge it around when Erik walks in and I just stare at him.
My hands grip the towel tightly and I take a step back, Erik just walking closer to me.
"You know you can trust me, right?" he whispers and I nod immediately, knowing deep in my heart I can trust Erik no matter what. "Then why don't you talk to me?" I shrug, my throat dry and the words stuck in my head.
Erik walks closer, tugging on the towel until I drop it from my hands. I can only stare as he turns and puts some soap on it, wetting it a little more before turning back to me. He gently grips my chin and starts to lightly rub at the mascara marks on my cheeks. My heart beats quicker and I can't close my eyes, only focusing on his face.
The silence is comfortable and he tilts my chin up as he begins wiping the mascara off my neck.
He then takes a dry part of the towel, wets it, then wipes whatever soap is left on my face off.
"There," he says with a smile. I look down and hear the towel drop into a bin. "Don't shut people out, Noa. It's okay to cry and feel emotions." He puts his hands on my shoulders and I look up. "You know you can trust me. So. . .trust me." He smiles that perfect smile and I just nod, knowing it's the right response.
YOU ARE READING
In The Eyes Of a Saint
Teen FictionI stare at the cars. I stare at the people. I look up and I stare at the sky. I stare at the clouds. A few birds fly by. I stare at those, too. Then, I look at the buildings. Some are completely lit up. Others are only partially. I stare at the cars...
