I Amsterdam (Completed)

Chapter 5.2 - Emma

I woke up to a sore hand, and for a moment, I thought I was back in Italy, waking up to Marco's face imprinted on my fist. But that memory that I dreamt happened months ago, and so I drew in a relieved breath as I realized that I was in Amsterdam, far away from Italy and far away from Marco.

My left palm was wrapped in white bandages slightly red from dried blood. I unwrapped the fabric to reveal my raw knuckles, cracked and bloody and red and white, the aftereffects of fighting with Lucas. My stomach ached with hunger, as well as hurt from his punches. As I sat up out of bed, it only worsened.

Light broke into my room from underneath the curtains. From the color, I could tell it was of the rising sun. The chirping of the birds whistling their morning tune only confirmed it. Do they ever sing the same song? I wondered.

I made my way to the window, grinding my teeth against the searing pain that erupted in my abdomen. I pushed the curtains back with my uninjured left hand, and my eyes flew to the sun, peeking through the gaps of the Amsterdam houses, and rising over the rooftops.

I stared, desperately trying to cherish this new, beautiful moment that leaves me speechless time and time again, this moment that I've once again had the pleasure to experience. But once again, I failed to.

I watched the sun rise until it grew over the roofs of the houses, conquering the city. I watched until I felt I needed to stop, not because I felt I should, but because I felt something else needed my attention, because I felt as if I was being watched. My eyes immediately darted to the window on the top floor of the house opposite the one I'm staying in.

And that's when I saw him, one hand in his pocket of his tight jeans, his thumb out and resting by the side, the other hand pulling the curtains back from his window, his hair shaved at the sides and an untidy, bushy mess at the front, his posture saying he didn't have a care in the world anymore, his eyes focused on me.

Until he saw I noticed him, and released his hold of the curtains to block himself from my view, refusing me a second glance of him to determine who he is, who he has been, and who he may be.