Chapter 3
She had moved on. She had got over it. She had no doubt about it. She wasn't even thinking about it (him) anymore. Period.
Saturday night, 3 a.m. While the world was out, partying, getting wild, living their lives, she was awake, in her bed, in her room, under the covers that protected her from the cold and the darkness, but not the storm raging in her mind. The storm of memories flooding back.
Memories of a childhood spent together, memories of a teenage spent together- memories of her entire life spent with him.
Memories of talking to him till late at night, until their parents finally scolded them and dragged them to their rooms. Memories of painting his favorite pair of jeans pink, and then using magic to change it back when he started crying, and getting grounded for that. Memories of him, pushing her on the swing, while she laughed and yelled in joy. Memories of a science project being done by him, while she watched TV, occasionally repeating the magic process called 'blackmailing'. Memories of borrowing money from him and buying him a present from it, claiming it was with her own money, and never paying him back. Memories of happy times, shattered fragments of her life till she made it complicated.
Memories of him, holding her close, whenever her world fell apart.
And a single tear drop rolled down her cheeks, her mouth parted in a whimper. She was tired of fighting this for so long. She tried to hide him in her eyes, behind her weary eye lids, trapping him in her dreams. But he always slipped away as tears.
The feelings were back to haunt her. Or maybe it never went away in the first place?
She spent a good five minutes just staring at the nameless faces of the people at the hallway, trying to see if someone was looking at her, following her, analyzing her, hating her. Did anyone know she was sick? Were they going to throw her away?
"Hey Alex!"
She jumped up at her best friend's voice. Did she know something? Did she suspect something? Was she going to ask her what was wrong with her?
Her best friend's face was calm, happy, full of trust and love and concern and all those other things that made her stomach churn with guilt.
Her stomach was turning into a hot-spot for tornadoes lately, twisting and distorting her life more than Photoshop can ever do to a picture. And she hated herself.
Why couldn't he feel the same way about her? Why didn't he feel the same way? Why couldn't he try? Why didn't all those moments mean anything to him? Why didn't he ever want to give them a try? Why didn't she deserve that much for loving him so much?
The questions haunted her; the answers haunted her even more. Sister had become her most dreaded word. And she dreaded the fact that she still missed him more times than he breathed every day.
And she hated herself.