The Wallflower. ~A Short Story~

 I was never once worried about you finding out who I was. I always knew I would never be convicted of such things. How could I ever be labeled a suspect when in your eyes, I was barely even a person? As sad as it was to admit, I knew it was nothing but an unfortunate gift from reality itself. It was never characteristically strange of me to feel lonely. In fact, it was an emotion I had grown accustomed to.

 After the numerous amounts of clues strewn before your eyes, I was surprised that you had not the slightest idea about my hidden identity. Your friends had easily forgotten about the book, but you were always a different story. You were fascinated. The deeper you perseveringly dug into the book, the more allured and undeniably obsessed you became. I always had an innate and unnatural alacrity to go up to you in the halls for the purpose of unveiling my true persona for the very first time. But I knew you wouldn't believe me. No one would. I decided that it was best if I remained silent under an indestructible façade of concealed emotions.

 On the day of our graduation I debated on whether I should attend the ceremony to witness your angelic countenance floating down the aisle for the last time, or whether to salvage myself from the colossal amount of heartache that I would experience from all that I had left unspoken. I chose to go. I couldn’t help leaving without mentally wishing you goodbye.

 At the time I had arrived late, but that wasn’t important considering you were in the midst of giving your vivacious valedictorian speech on behalf of all the cheerful and highly spirited graduates. When you were nominated to be valedictorian, no one had any doubts about your ability to execute such an honorable task. You always had the eloquence of speech, but best of all, you were lively and engaging. It was almost as if the title was specifically crafted for your personal victory.

 I settled at the very back of the church, watching you deliver as your face glowed with nothing but achievement and self-approbation. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but every time my eyes cruised down your face, my heart became doused in nothing but grief. Almost certain, I knew I had made a grave mistake in coming, because all I saw when I adoringly gazed toward your direction was remorse. My heart was mourning over your loss when you were never even in my possession to begin with. I was in dire need of something to fill the void of emptiness instilled within me. Something other than my melancholic emotions which were successfully filling up my soul to the brim.But I couldn't do anything anymore. It was too late. We had already reached the end, and even a boost in confidence would have been considered nugatory. Like my love for you, I was hopeless. Lost and drowning in a whirlpool of despair.

 A tear gradually cascaded down my lightly tinted cheeks, as my trembling frame turned around desperately in search for the nearest exit. All I wanted to do was run away. I wanted to run away from the pain. From the twisted emotions. The lethal curiosity of what could have been. I wanted to run away from your hauntingly enticing figure. But to everyone's shock, my actions had only prompted you to softly whisper my name through the microphone amongst the mounds of parents and graduates who were exorbitantly perplexed by your troubled expression and sudden pause.

"Amelia. Please...don't leave."

 I froze, unable to move any further from the spastic jolts of shock that were ceaselessly being released throughout my body. You knew my name, yet even with such a discovery that would have normally instructed my heart to soar from pure elation, I didn't dare turn around. I didn't want you to meet my eyes for the first time, and have you absorb nothing but translucent drops of despondent emotions.

 I could practically feel everyone’s penetrating stare piercing through my skin, accompanied by the faint sound of your footfalls as you slowly made your way towards my weak and mortified soul which was hanging on the cusp of collapse. I couldn’t stay. It would only make things worse. At that moment, I did what I wanted to do from the very beginning of my arrival. I ran out of the church. I didn’t care about the consequences. I didn’t care about the looks of sheer horror and bewilderment. I didn’t care about the raucous laughter, and the collective gasps of shock I had managed to procure from the audience. All I genuinely cared about was going home. But something stopped me both physically and mentally.

 The temperamental skies had managed to emulate my dark emotions as it was pouring sheets of rain. Before I had even thought about stumbling down the flight of stairs in my mother’s vintage heels, I felt the weight of your body being pressed against my own. Encased in nothing but warmth and astonishment, you had slithered your arms around my waist in a protective, yet restrictive manner. I didn’t understand your actions at the time, but I never questioned them. I just allowed for my heart wrenching tears to vigorously glide down my cheeks, as they sloppily interconnected with the lucid droplets of rain.

 You told me about how much you always secretly loved me as you cradled me in your arms. How you were stunned by how beautiful I looked when you saw me at the party adorning that red dress for the first time, and how it was you that had slipped the invitation in my locker. You told me about how much you admired my big brown eyes, and how every day you would furtively watch me from the windows at the library as I would be intensely engrossed in my philosophy books. Completely sucked out of reality. You told me about how much you endeavored to speak to me in the halls, and why you had masked your veritable emotions for so long, scared of your judgmental friends’ reactions. You told me you were sorry.

 But what you never told me was how you found out that I was the owner of the diary. I didn't need an explanation, because arrested within the palm of your unstable hands, you held out the tiny locket that cluelessly fell out of the pocket of the only dress I owned once I had ungraciously fled from the church.

Your other hand hugged on to the key.

What I never told you on that bittersweet day as I was surrounded by nothing but walls of hopelessness and conflicting emotions, was that there always existed a brilliant ray of hope flickering within me, escorting me towards a certain idea.

The idea that you had always held ownership of  the key to my heart.