LIfe After Grace (a depersonalisation disorder story)

2.

Chapter Two

Step out the front door like a ghost
Into the fog where no one notices
The contrast of white on white. –Counting Crows

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“What are you doing with my grandmothers ring?” He repeated. The dark brown eyes narrowed like he was trying to unlock the mystery with his gaze alone, and his brow furrowed.

“Well?”

I stood there with the glossy cover of Fleetwood Mac album in hand, whilst staring the boy who claimed to be Grace’s grandson, whom glared at me in question. This boy was her grandson?

Does he know how she died? Maybe he knows where her grave is. Maybe I can see her. Would he tell me, a stranger?

My thoughts started swirling around my mind too fast, making me a bit dizzy.

“Are you even listening to me?”

 Flashes of her familiar laughing face assaulted my memory. Her eyes that smiled brighter than her mouth and lifted up crinkled at the corners. Her thin lips stretching up, taking over her face in a wide grin.

“Hey, are you ok?” Two strong hands were set firmly on my shoulders and lightly shook me. The soft shake snapped Grace’s face out of my mind and made room for the present to set in. Without thinking I set both of my hands on his shirt and gathered the soft white material to clench between my fingers.

“Where is she?” I asked, looking up straight into the boy’s deep brown eyes. The boy’s eyes widened in shock, noticing my sudden change in attitude.

“Ahh… who?” He asked, leaning back slightly. It was then; I noticed how close I was to the boy. I had practically mashed my body up against his, as if I was trying to retrieve the information physically. Hard stomach muscles were firmly pressed against my abdomen and a rich spicy scent, a mix of coffee beans and cinnamon, from the man touched my nose. From outside the store it probably looked like we were kissing. Oh my god, what the hell am I doing? I quickly released the material in my hand and pushed myself back a bit, using his chest as leverage.

“Oh god, I’m sorry!” I gushed and then stumbled back a bit on the old wooden floorboards. Warmth spread under my skin collecting as a blush on my chest and on the surface of my face.

The boy’s intense gaze studied my face and then drifted back down to my hand that was now clutching at the material of my own shirt.  I followed his gaze to the ring on my left fourth finger and felt a rush of possessive come over me. Did he want the ring? Did he think I stole it? Was he going to take it? Should I run for it? Maybe I should try and fight. No way, this guy is packed with muscle and is probably nearly double my weight. The boy interrupted my inner turmoil by clearing his throat. However, before he could, I spoke.

“It’s mine, I won’t let you take it. She gave it to me. It’s mine.” My voice seemed to echo throughout the store and mix with Glimour’s haunting melody but my eyes were deadlocked on his. His brow furrowed as he clearly accessed me.

“ It’s mine.” I repeated, trying to convince him with the certainty of the words, trying to let him know with words I would never let him take it. And it seemed to work. The lines on his forehead, caused by his furrowed brow smoothed out and his broad shoulders relaxed slightly. His eyes crinkled up at the corners and smiled brighter than his wide grin and literally stole my breath. This boy is defiantly Grace’s Grandson.

“ I see, so you’re Delialah old neighbor then” he said. Confusion rattled through my mind. Had we met before? I suppose in a town of only 8 thousand, it’s more than likely we would have ran into each other at some point.