I was almost back at the house. Home just never really seemed right. Normally when I pictured home I saw sand and desert flowers. It had been three and a half years since I saw him, the psychologists said I had Stockholm syndrome, but could it last that long?
My apartment building was a grey color and twelve stories high. Instead of taking the elevator like i normally did i decided to take the stairs. Even though I lived on the twelfth floor I couldn't help but to walk.
As I made my way up the stairs I thought about the disaster that would happen if I went to dinner with them. Just the thought of knocking at the door made me queezy. Mum probably still hated me and dad...? Maybe he would actually talk to me this time.
Every bone and molecule in my body said to stay in my room and sleep. But something else not inside of me said to go and see my parents. See my old best friend. See the boy who u once had a crush on, and take it all in. For some reason I felt like something was going to happen and I wouldn't get the chance to say what I needed to.
I hadn't noticed before but I stopped on the last flight of stairs and was gripping the black metal rail beside me with both hands. Nausea washed over me. What could have made me so sick? Then I noticed a little kid running by with a chocolate bar. It was melting all over his fingers and it made me want to hurl. Your fault. I used to love chocolate so much before you forced me to eat that gooey drug. Sometimes I can still feel what it did to me.
When the kid was gone I took a deep breath, relived that the putrid smell went with him.
I resumed my walk and fumbled for the keys in my purse. When I looked up I didn't know what to do. They were there. Those eyes. The eyes that held the strength of ice, but also the smoothness of water.
