A barista in a café stumbles over a black-haired artist often ordering the same: a cup of plain black coffee.
When she ventures to enter his life, who makes her heart flutter like no other, life slaps back with a "not too fast". She discovers his s...
❝I have seen your darkest nights and brightest days, and I want you to know I will be here forever loving you in dusk.❞
06
TRAUMATISING 外傷
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
. . .
Trauma was a truly haunting disease.
I kept rolling on my bed with no foreseen hope of slumber that night. My conversation with Blake brought back needless ugly memories I was thankful for closely forgetting. Or maybe it wasn't Blake himself but the fact I hadn't interacted with men outside of my friends' circle in a while.
It made me unreasonably dislike the guy a little. I felt as if he pried on my privacy with his question, but then again, I did the same thing, but only to make sure being around him wouldn't cause trouble or suspicions. Not like it was the worst thing to ask of all, but for me, it was close to being so.
My last relationship was traumatic. He broke me into pieces and scattered each far off my reach to reassemble. He sold me for cheap.
I felt myself cave in. I was thankful I didn't have a morning shift the next day, but also spiteful of the fact I was going to stay alone anyway.
After my last failed attempt of closing my eyes, I gave in and left my bed. I went out to the balcony for some fresh night air, ironic to the fact I lit a cigarette with it and popped a can of vodka. I was too desperate to steer away from my thoughts to the limit I tried to glorify the sight of the disappearing smoke to myself.
The vodka worked its wonders at weakening my brain functions. I watched the smoke leave my mouth then disappear into nothing. It worked like an insomniac counting sheeps till slumber. The thoughts of smoke then led me to think of when the next time California would be caught on fire was. Yes, that thought was less terrifying than thinking of my ex's deeds.
However, the odds were not on my side that day. The person I least wanted to hear from made my phone ding. Couldn't enjoy the alcohol buzz happily as long as I wanted.
'thanks for today, cassie. good night, sweet dreams :)'
'i csn't slrrp.'
'why?'
'overttinging about what we talked sbout.'
'...i'm sorry. I didn't mean to interfere. why are you making many typos, tho? are you...drunk?'
'not mych. just tipssy.
wanns cpme over tho?'
. . .
i know this is short and not so great eh, but if was to get stuck in making it better, I'd never finish this story haha.
