Little Game

Chapter 56

Isabella buried her face in her hands, attempting valiantly to control her tears and withdraw from the world. The world that she was looking at has disappeared.  The world that disappeared was a world that was as quiet as the mellow susurrus in the night with clouds that hung in the air like a phantom of recollections from the past. Where the wind was giving its soft satin flow over the warm skin, gentle with its caresses as though it was providing her with vitality to trudge the path of thorns left behind by those she ever loved.

She looks at Nicolai and remembers the little boy under a tree. His tears trickled down like the leaves that had just fallen from the trees in the fall. A weak little boy with no friends and such, a little boy with his love for books and milk with a plate of cookies. A cute, little boy with his stupid little smile.

“I’m tired.” Isabella said to the boy that was once little and cute. When did things go wrong, Nicolai? Why did you leave?

“I know.” He whispers gently as though he understands her predicament and maybe he does. Maybe he does.

Isabella stood up, her anger boiling to the point where she fears her own actions, afraid to be unable to control what words her mouth would spew. She’s so frightened of the thought of her anger eating her away. Pain and wrath do not bode well. She feels as though she could take on everything and nothing at the same time. The fragility that mixes well with the raw agony and grief becomes a fuel to her wrath that burns her insides until what’s left are droplets of water that cascades down her cheeks.

Isabella was mad because she knew how in pain he was. How his hurt was like wounds that cut so deep until it bled and weep. His eyes were like a book that she could read without failing to see a single thing on what he feels. This is what Isabella loved about Nicolai, she realized. The fact that he was an open book for her. His heart was always completely open for her to walk in at any time of the day. His love had no boundaries and his endless need for companionship from her were something that she missed so much that she bled and cried for the loss of her friend.

Isabella hit his chest.

He was taller than her, which then reminded her of the years they lost together. They were supposed to be friends. They were supposed to grow up together.

Isabella hit his chest again.

They weren’t supposed to grieve for the death of their friendship. They weren’t supposed to have matching despair and torment in their eyes. They weren’t supposed to be like this.

Isabella hits his chest again and again, looking for that satisfaction.

She mourned the death of Nicolai. Her Nicolai. The Nicolai she once loved. The Nicolai with a soft heart and gentle smile. The boy she knew but now a stranger. She mourned for that Nicolai.

Nicolai just stood there, taking all of her hits, all of the pain that came along with the hits. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t because there’s nothing to say. What could he say that would bring her comfort? That it’s going to be alright? It never will be.

Nicolai. Nicolai. Nicolai.

At some point, the man held her hands together to stop her from hitting him and moved closer until she could feel his warm breath against her skin. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” He kept repeating like a broken record. A chant that was supposed to lure her into forgiving him but she couldn’t. She wished she could and she wanted to but she couldn’t.

So many years have passed between them. She went to his home, to places that he could have been just to see him gone. As though he was a fragment of her imagination. No note, no messages. Just him disappearing like the wind. And she searched for him. And searched. And searched again. And again and again and again because she wanted to ask why.