Torn between Dreams and Reality

Chapter 8

Conrad let out a heavy sigh. "Phew, that was a huge earth quake. Thank God the building didn't come down."

I nodded, too shocked to actually answer.

How could this have happened?
Could she even bring the earthquake or was it just a mere coincidence?

"Claire, are you okay?" Conrad asked snapping me out of my thoughts, his brows furrowed with confusion. I couldn't keep it in me anymore. He already knew the rest, why not tell him this too?

"I saw. . . me. She was standing right next to the counter. She—her every step—it brought the earthquake with it. She. . . kept screaming and-and. . . ...."

I couldn't carry on as my voice cracked while remembering what she kept shouting at me. My ears still ached due to her shrill voice, increasing the pain in my head.

Conrad's arm wrapped around my shoulder as we exited the Café.

"Didn't you see her screaming, shouting? She was right in front of us when we were under the table."

He closed his eyes as he shook his head, keeping his eyes on his car that was parked on the opposite side of the road. Lightly dragging me along with him, he opened the door for me to sit down. Taking his own place on the driver's seat, he gently patted my trembling hand, worry lacing his face.

"Don't worry, we'll find a way out of this."

"Do you. . . think it's just a coincidence?"

Taking a long, thoughtful minute, he heaved a long breath. His brows creased as he bit his lower lip, still not understanding the situation. "I don't know... at least, I don't think so."

Relief flooded within me as we drove off to nowhere in particular.

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"Favorite color? Mine's night blue."
"Purple."

"What about animals, I really like dogs. I even have a Siberian Husky named Spyro. What about you?"
"I don't know, I guess I like rabbits a lot."

"They are cute. Any who, do you have a favourite book. You look like a person who reads a lot."
"I do. But I usually like most of the books I read so its hard to pick a favourite. Maybe. . . The Kingkiller's Chronicle Series."

When Conrad had said to know me better, he meant it, asking me some basic questions about me, distracting me from the event that had taken place earlier. He took me to a park nearby where we sat on the lush grass while playing twenty questions, him being the one asking most of the questions.

Just as the afternoon Sun bid us farewell Conrad looked at someone behind me, stiffened for a few seconds, then waved with a calm smile on his face. His sudden change of expression made me curious enough to turn around and look at the person behind me.

Leo.

His Auburn waves flowed like water reflecting the Sunlight, his lightest of brown eyes shining like he had no clue of what terrible things happen to me when I see his face.

I felt lost for a few moments, unable to comprehend the sweet smile he passed to both of us, though the uneasiness displaying on his face when he saw me didn't go unnoticed.

"Hey, Leo. What's up?" Conrad spoke up, being the first on to break the deadly silence that followed.

"Nothing much. Just wanted to ask you about our project."

"It's fine. I've already done it." He replied, slouching his back against the tree.

Leo rolled his eyes, offering half a smile. "Over efficient. You couldn't wait for us, could you."

"Nah, man. You guys always delay it to the last minute."

Somewhere in their conversation, Leo's eyes met mine—a distant gaze with no recognition in sight. Too lost in my thoughts, I didn't even realize that his gaze had swept away from mine as he continued talking to Conrad until someone tapped my shoulder.

Looking back, my eyes caught no one in sight as my blood ran cold and all the colour drained from my face. Looked further, a mother playing catch with her son, both seemed happy and carefree. They were the only people, apart from us, who were still at the park at this time of day.

Another tap.
I whipped my head to the other side, startling the two boys in the process due to my sudden actions.

There, besides Leo stood a younger version of him who offered me the sweetest smile ever, holding onto the real one's forearm with his right hand. The younger version of Leo tilted his head and held out his left hand with his palm closed as if he was holding something in it.

I didn't care if Conrad and Leo—the real one—stared at me with confused and shocked faces, but I couldn't help but let the scream that I had encaged for so long escape from my lips as my imagination opened his palm on which a black butterfly sat delicately, slowly flapping its wings on one of his fingers.