Voices

c h a p t e r 1 6 : d e m o n s

Am I weird for feeling this much? I mean, from what society understands, we, as males, don't talk as much, don't feel as much. Am I the odd one out?

I don't exactly have anyone to talk to anymore.

That's your own fault.

Don't blame anyone else for that.

I take a sip of my drink, the taste of the cold, sweet coffee flooding my mouth, staring out the window.

Outside, everyone is just going about minding their own business, occasionally mingling with others, presumably their neighbours or friends. You know, just another normal day.

Everyday is just another normal day I have to survive.

When will life stop being about survival and start being about having fun?

In your dreams.

Someone takes a seat opposite me. Startled, I nearly jump in my seat. I remove my earbuds and look up, straight into her eyes.

"Hi, Sam."

"Oh, hi, Lou," I reply, feeling my heartbeat accelerate.

She's here.

"How are you?"

"I'm good. You?"

"As good as I'll ever be."

"Here you go, Miss. Your iced coffee," Grace says, putting the glass in front of Lou.

Lou smiles at Grace, muttering a soft 'thank you' just as she walks away.

"So, what are you up to today?" I ask, not wanting to leave any room for awkward silences.

She shrugs. "I've nothing planned."

"Want to head to the beach after this?" I blurt out, realising in shock the implications of my question.

Why did I say that?

What did you say about keeping your mouth shut around Lou?

When will you learn, Sam?

I don't know why I keep blurting out things when I'm around Louisa. It's almost as if I've gone back to that thirteen year old teenager around his biggest crush, unable to stop yourself from saying foolish things.

"Sure, I guess," she says softly.

"Great."

There's just something about her that seems so fragile, almost like a frosted window. She knows how to let people in just enough to make them feel like they mean something but not enough for them to discover who she really is. Her walls are so intricately woven and she never seems to let her guard down.

But I may have perceived her wrongly. Maybe she's a really open person. Maybe she is really friendly and she doesn't fear letting people in. After all, she does seem like a very contented and strong person. I don't know her well enough to make any correct assumptions.

"Shall we go?" she asks.

"Sure. Let me just finish off my drink first," I reply, taking huge gulps of my coffee.

I feel my tongue going numb from the cold, along with a light pounding in my head. I've forgotten how much brain freezes can hurt. At least it's not as bad as a migraine.

"I'm ready," I say, standing up.

She gets up from her seat and we both head towards the exit. I push open the door and gesture for her to exit. She takes a step outside and I follow suit, letting the door swing to a close behind me.