The car skids to a stop, the old boy's wheels too old to be running at its age.
Hugh leans his arm over the wheel, ocean eyes daring to glance at me. The whole ride has been in silence, voices too shy to create simple human conversation. I can tell silence makes him uncomfortable because he tries to create some conversation once in a while. But these chapped, pale lips of mine refuse to utter a single "hello" or response. It's been abused for so long it doesn't trust itself to respond to the talk of other lips, fearing it might bear its vulnerabilities for others to take advantage of.
But it seems like the boy whose lips long to create the noise that encompasses the world and distracts us hasn't experienced the abuse these pale lips have.
Not that I want him to.
I hope he never does.
I examine as his body faces the direction his eyes are facing. He purses his lips into his pretty-girl smile, preparing his voice to speak.
"We're here," he begins.
I nod. "Thanks for giving me a ride," I respond, opening the door of the car. Silence plagues us again as legs hop off the old, monster truck-like car and onto the hardness of the sidewalk.
But before I close the door, his voice holds me back.
"I'm sorry again for what happened," he says, making me turn around. "If you need anything, I'm across the street."
I nod, forcing a grin. I turn to walk towards my house.
"Oh, and Clara," he adds, only my head looking back. "Take care of yourself." He grins, waving before driving away.
I watch as he leaves, the red, monster truck-like car clanking and screeching away. For the past couple of weeks, I have been hit with a baseball, lived in a hospital, and was cared for by a boy I have never met before.
For the past couple of weeks, I have done way more things than I did for the whole of last month.
It was nice of Ocean Eyes to drop me off right before his school started.
I haven't experienced any kindness in a while.
To be honest, it was kind of refreshing.
As I go into my house, however, I decided to keep my distance from the boy.
It's been a while since I've seen a boy.
It's been a while since I've touched a boy.
It's been a while since I was in a friendly relationship with a boy.
It's been a while...
I'm not ready for another friendship.
I'm not ready for the heartbreak.
I'm not ready for the gossip.
I'm not ready for the betrayal.
I'm not ready for the effort...
And getting nothing in return.
I'm not ready for any of that.
Not again.
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YOU ARE READING
A Prose With No Direction
SpiritualA prose with no direction. A mind with no guidance. A human without a purpose. That is the kind of story I hate to be. That is the kind of story I, unfortunately, am.