A Prose With No Direction

One Night

I'm afraid to die alone.

But I'm more afraid of humans.

There's actually a reason to why I fear humans.

Since they're the very reason I will die alone.

.

.

.

.

.

I haven't dressed up prettily in a while.

Ding-dong.

Ding-dong.

Ding-dong.

Lungs inhale, lips exhale.

I face myself in my shattered mirror, face caked with concealer to hide my flaws.

Hands graze my shoulders, gently touching them at first before gripping on tight. Her hands are still soft; no callous has plagued it yet. 

Unlike mine.

Lifeless eyes search for her lively ones.

She gives a stern glare.

You promised to learn, she says.

I promise to not touch the water, I reply.

Ding-dong.

Ding-dong.

Ding-dong.

Have fun.

Fun.

A word I have never heard before.

Legs march their way towards the door, hands gripping the doorknob. Arms swing it open and lifeless eyes are greeted by dynamic ones. 

One.

Two.

Three.

Each friend is present.

Friend one.

Friend two.

Friend three.

Names, names, names, names erase themselves from my brain.

Memories, memories, memories, memories forget that their memories ever existed. 

Friends, friends, friends, friends ignore each other as if complete strangers.

But tonight, in this strange, chilling night, they act as the friends they were yesterday.

Laughs, laughs, laughs, laughs echo in the air.

Sounds, sounds, sounds, sounds are too familiar, unfamiliar, heartwarming, overwhelming. 

Mind, mind, mind, mind races into forming sentences, piling words upon words in order to make an impression, in order to start a conversation.

Heart, heart, heart, heart beats and beats like the beating of a drum, like the ticking of a metronome, like the beating and rhythm of words. 

Mind, mind, mind—

"It's been a while—" Friend one—

No!

Kyleighrie.

"It's been a while—" Kyleighrie says. 

"Yeah, we haven't seen you since the funeral," Friend t—Rosa adds.

Hands grip my wrist tight. 

Pitter-patter.

"How've you been doing?" Belle asks in her way of being sincere. 

I try not to look away this time. "Alright."

Belle smiles. "Let's cheer you up tonight," Belle proclaims. "We'll let all your worries be drowned away by beer."

I smile awkwardly. "I don't drink anymore," I mutter.

Kyleighrie looks at me oddly. "Since when do you ever refuse a drink?" 

"See, this is what I'm telling you guys!" Belle exclaims. "A whole month of fucking solitude turned this party girl into a fucking nun." She looks at me with wild eyes. The very eyes that once sparkled in mine have now been passed on to her. I have corrupted another angel. "Tonight, I'll have you drinking, partying, and screaming like the girl I remember. Come on!" She cocks her head. "Don't wanna be late."

Lungs inhale, lips exhale.

Belle holds out a hand.

Calloused hands take hers and legs walk out of the comfort of their own home. I observe my surroundings. The tree, the birds, the soil, the worms, and the very house in which I've spent a whole month now disappear into the distance as the car races down the empty street, wind blowing my dressed-up hair.

This is Day One of walking on Earth since the incident.

As voices laugh and chatter away, competing with the loud gust of wind, I glance back to my house that is barely visible to the naked eye.

I find the little girl standing on the porch, lively eyes watching me disappear.

I hear her voice echo in my ear.

You promised to learn.

"I won't touch the water," I whisper.

"Did you say something—?" Rosa yells through the roaring wind. 

"Oh, no." I shake my head. 

Did she hear me?

"Oh, I could've sworn I heard something," she chuckles. 

I look at her, startled. 

No.

She's wrong.

I didn't say anything.

I only think. 

Only insane people talk to themselves.

And I am not insane.

It's not like I've talked to myself before.

I hide a smirk and chuckle.

Only insane people talk to themselves.

And I know I'm not one of them.