That October Night

Chapter 33

"ARE YOU SURE your eyes are still closed?" Raymond asked me for the fifth time.

This surprise Raymond had for me made me feel giddy inside, like a child about to be treated with sweets. He had covered my eyes with one of London's satin scarf and made me promise not to tell her.

My giggling doubled over as I nodded my head vigorously. He continued guiding me with his hand around my waist in silence. When we finally stopped walking, I let out an audible sigh.

"Haha. How dramatic. Okay, open up," he said and I could almost see him playfully rolling his eyes.

I looked around in stupefaction. We were in an empty dancing studio. There was a barre on one side with a mirrored wall behind it. Windows were almost everywhere, giving the studio an airy vibe.

What surprised me more than where we were, was actually the lit vanilla candles and yellow and red roses.

I whipped around to Raymond. "What if we get caught?"

He shrugged, a mixture of nervousness and excitement painted on his face. He then laughed when my eyes opened wider than possible.

"It's my mother's. She stopped teaching when news of my father never came back." He paused, taking my hands in his. "She had lost her motivation. I hope you never lose yours, no matter the lemons life throws at you."

Intently, I gazed at him under my lashes. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want to."

"But I don't tell you anything."

"And that's fine. Here." He handed me one of the yellow roses. This made me feel buoyant, special even. I can't remember Josiah ever doing anything like this for me.

I sniffed the beautiful rose, sighing in contentment. I never even knew I loved roses until now. "I've never gotten a rose before."

"You deserve one every day if possible." He walked over to a remote on a table, putting on a music. It was Trampoline by Shaed. "Dance for me, Shorts."

Feeling happy, I obliged without reluctance.

I've always danced as a way to ease the pain, but this felt different. At first, I was dancing for the fun of it. However, everything I've felt for the past four months easily seeped through my movement.

This felt freeing, but I knew it would take more than this to come to terms with what I had gone through. It was as if time had frozen in place, buying me enough time to enjoy the moment. And that I did.

Raymond had joined me, impressing me with his dance moves. But I should've known he knew a thing or two since his mother was a dancer. We free-styled together, laughing when we messed up.

By the time I was done, my face was flooded with tears. It was Raymond's applauds, however that brought me back to reality.

I ran to him, hugging him tightly. "Thank you."

"No, thank you," he whispered back. We dropped to the ground, laying on our backs for some time in comfortable silence. "Tell me about your favorite childhood memory."

"There's so much. Where do I start?"

"Start anywhere. We have all day, Shorts."

And so I told him while secretly smiling at my nickname. Shorts. It was growing on me.

I watched as the girl let out a shaky breath. It was Monday, and I had tagged along with Malik like I promised to. This place felt depressing. All I could see were eyes filled with traumas, smiles nowhere to be seen.

"My father molested me every day, so I kept thinking that it was my fault," she started. Susan that was her name.

"So I started wearing larger clothing to...I don't know...stop him I guess? But it got worse. He told me that he loved wondering what's underneath throughout the day." Susan bitterly laughed, running her fingers through her wild hair. "My father told me this. The man who was supposed to first show me what it was like to be respected and loved by a man."

Her voice was raw and that made me angry because I know what pain felt like. The way you kept thinking of ways that it could've been prevented, or like how she previously said, it was all your fault.

I know what pain looked like. How it came in all shapes and sizes. How it sometimes came from a complete stranger or from someone you trusted.

It angered me that people just went around hurting others. The sick part about it was that they somehow felt a thrill from it.

If that wasn't inhuman, then I don't know what is.

By this time, she was crying. "What crushed me the most is that my mother...my own mother didn't believe a word I said."

If her parents knew they couldn't take care of her like they were supposed to, then the least they could've done was put her up for adoption. But what were the odds?

That she ends up with a family that did the exact same thing?

This made me mindful that although my parents were flawed like the rest of us humans out here, I should always give them credit for the love they sheltered me with.

I looked around. The toxic atmosphere felt so claustrophobic with painful memories, that I couldn't breathe. Before I knew it, I dashed out in the middle of the girl's story.

Outside was better than in there. At least the people out here looked okay. But what was better? Looking okay or being okay?

My large gulps of air didn't even seem to do me justice. I think I was losing it. My mind. My breath.

On what seemed like my last breath, I was splashed with cold water. Shocked, I jolted up only to see Malik with an empty bucket in his hands. His eyes showing the only emotion I thought I'd never seen in them.

Fear.

"I-I'm sorry. You weren't answering me when I called out to you. I didn't know what else to do."

Malik hugged me and it was then I realized I was shivering. My hands stayed limply at my sides. "You don't have to be here, Mitchell. It sucks being in there."

I didn't bother answering him. I was too traumatized to.