Torn between Dreams and Reality

Chapter 13

I quickly slid behind one of the canvases, holding one in front of me. Thankfully, my hiding spot was right next to the picture that my father had pointed at. It was a scenery, a forest with autumn trees and a lake reflecting the view. There was nothing captivating about it. It was simple, a scenery of a weather. I should've felt a pull towards it, something attracting me towards it but I felt nothing.

"Come on in," I heard Leo in a low tone outside the garage. "We can talk inside."

Once they entered, he asked, "Dude, why did you not come to school today?"

"Yeah," I heard Conrad, "About that. I . . . didn't feel like going."

"Why not? You do realise that we could've failed our project if our group had the presentation today. Be glad our name wasn't taken or we'd be goners!"

"I had a headache. It hurt like shit."

"Relatable. So, what did you want to talk about?"

A moment of silence followed, as if Conrad was having trouble picking up what to say. I plucked up the courage to raise my head a little to see where they stood. Conrad was close to the garage gate facing my side, rubbing the back of his neck while Leo had his back towards me.

His metallic cool gaze found mine all of a sudden, his eye lit up, as if they had been searching for me when he spoke up. "Listen, man. What you saw yesterday. . . about Claire."

I stiffened at his response, slowly sliding down again to be out of his vision.

"Yeah, what about her? Was she okay since she seemed a little . . . off." The tone he used when he emphasized on off. . . it broke me.

"She's perfectly fine. There is nothing wrong with her." Conrad replied, as if he too had caught what Leo's words meant. "I just wanted to say that. . . whatever you saw, you aren't going to mention it to anyone; not me, not her, not anybody else."

I slid down further, wrapping my arms around my legs, cradling myself because I felt so vulnerable. My eyes went to the painting again, looking at how ordinary it was, tracing my fingers on the visible strokes of paint.

"Dude, I'm not a monster or a gossip girl, telling people what others are going through. Well, whatever she is going through, I hope she gets through it. I wish her the best of luck and that she gets better."

"Yeah, I'll tell her you did. I, uh—man, is it me or this does this place feel congested? Can we go outside, get a little fresh air in our system?"

"Sure."

With that, they both exited the garage.

I came out quietly, but my attempt led the painting behind me to fall. I made a sudden dived to grab it, which I did.

It was then when I realised that my father wasn't pointing at the painting because it was important. He was pointing at it because of what was hidden behind the canvas.

Crouching down, I softly pulled it out and set the canvas back.

My diary, the one I kept closest to me, it was here, with him.

But the question was why?

Leo didn't remember me; I wasn't a part of his life. Then why hide away my diary behind a picture. I flipped through the pages to see all of mine were intact. I knew what I needed and it was there in my hands.

Making my way towards the window on the side. It was too large but it was big enough for me to squeeze out of it. Putting my foot on the desk, I lifted myself up and opened the window lightly. I wriggled out of it to the other side and hoped down, hating the harsh landing.

I walked forward and waved at Conrad who was busy talking to Leo. When he got a glimpse of me, he cut off his conversation and bid farewell to his friend who went into the garage afterwards.

I watched every last sight of him as I clutched the diary harder. Tears were on the verge of betraying me as I bit my lower lips so the sob wouldn't escape. I didn't want to be so weak but just the thought of him actually remembering me but not letting me know hurt so bad. I didn't know if it were true or not but him having my diary and hiding it somewhere which was hard to find. . . the thought didn't settle well in me.

"So, you found what you were looking for?" I heard a distant voice. I could even see the face but it was so blur, so distant.

Did I know this person? How could I when he belongs to the outside world; the cold world.

I had no friends there, no comfort there. All my comfort was in my mind.
My haven.

A strong hand grasped my forearm and I felt like I was being shaken a bit. I blinked a few times, entering the world I hated: reality. It was then when I was met with gunmetal eyes, staring at me like they'd shoot any minute.

The eyes were darker than usual. "Are you okay, Claire? What's wrong."

I lowered my gaze from Conrad. I didn't want him to see me cry, not after the many times he'd already seen me do the same thing. My feet looked more interesting at the point.

"Hey, hey. Look at me," he whispered, putting his finger under my chin and forcing me to look up. "It's okay. You can cry, I won't stop you. Just tell me what's wrong."

"Does he remember me?" I blurted out.

Conrad looked taken aback from my question, clearly not expecting it. "Claire, I—no. he doesn't. he lost his memory, remember? He doesn't remember anything from before he was fourteen and in the hospital."

"Then why does he have this?" I asked, pointing at the diary in my hands. "Why did he make an effort to hide this? Why did he even have this? I never let this get out of my sight. I even had it when he lost his memories. I stopped using it after sometime so that means someone brought it here."

His eyes momentarily went to it and then swept back to me. "Maybe he did bring it."

"What?" I asked, confused at his judgement.

"You said that the earthquakes were coming because of what you saw, your neighbour could see whatever you saw since he was watering it, the butterfly was visible to me and even that tornado! And we usually see the things that are touchable. Maybe. . . something else brought it here. Even on the picture, wasn't something written about your dreams taking over reality."

It scared me that my dreams were messing with the reality and everyone could see it, that what Conrad said made sense.

"I need to rest. A break from all of this." I murmured to myself, clutching my forehead which suddenly felt heavier. My knees were weak and buckled since the only thing holding me upright was Conrad who hadn't let go of my forearm.

"You're right, you look like you like you were itching in a place you couldn't reaching and got tired of trying."

I glowered at Conrad tiredly as he snickered at his own joke. "How about you come to my match tomorrow. It's a basketball tournament that me and the boys have with the neighbourhood team, you know the boys who wanted to be in the team but didn't get selected. They're from different schools and all but it's all chill. I send you, Milady, a special invitation to attend this special event."

I giggled when he added. "And no, Leo isn't going to be there so it's all stress free."

"Okay, I'll coming."

"Good to know. And even if you'd said no, I would've dragged you." he replied, taking my hand and leading me to the car.