Guys I have a request for you all: please don't be silent readers. I tend to get very insecure about things at times and my writing tops off that list. So I can't help but wonder if people are actually liking this story.
So please guys, if you're reading it and liking it then pleeeeeaaasse vote or at the very least comment, so that I may know you exist. :(
Please guys. This message is to all of you out there...
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Voicemail of 28th July' 2015
05:28 a.m.
A soft tune started to play from the phone's speaker, the sweet melody wrapping me in like a cocoon - only the cocoon was made of sharp thorns and deathly intoxicating fumes.
I scoffed; he was ruining my birthday. After almost two bloody months he decides to finally think I'm worth leaving a message for and that too on my birthday?! I sneered in pure anger.
The music was an instrumental being played on a guitar; by him, I thought darkly. Soon words started to fill in the gaps between the slow rhythmic beats-
"You look so wonderful in this dress. I love your hair like that,
"The way it falls on the side of your neck, down your shoulders and back."
I felt wetness on my cheeks. Reaching a hand to touch my face, I found a stream of hot angry tears flowing from eyes.
"We are surrounded by all of these lies-"
I laughed in vengeful amusement. He had gotten that right; we were surrounded by a rather intricate web of lies. A web which he had contributed to quite extensively.
"-and people who talk too much,
"You've got the kind of gleam in your eyes like no one knows anything but us."
A few strokes of the guitar later, he broke out into the chorus; and I did everything possible to stop myself from all but breaking down with anger and frustration and pain.
I breathed in deeply, trying my best to keep a lid on my emotions.
"Should this be the last thing I see, I want you to know it's enough for me. 'Cause all that you are is all that I'll ever need.
"So in love... I'm so in love..."
It took him a little over a minute to complete the whole song.
I don't think I'll ever be listening to this song again - forget my love-turned-hatred for it. However, I wasn't quite sure if my unsettling feelings for the song were a result of my anger towards him or of the fact that no other voice singing these words would now ever replace his in my head.
"Happy birthday, Ems,
"I'm guessing that this accounts for the fifth birthday of yours that I've missed in a row, but I'm hoping my wish can somehow compensate for this year?"
Not even a little bit, I muttered to myself.
"The song was on behalf of my promise - to sing this to you every year on your birthday. I guess you loved this little tradition of ours for nostalgic reasons."
Regardless of the growing tension in me, I clutched the phone a little tighter in-between my numb fingers.
"After all I had been singing to this - your favourite song - the first time we had met. To-date I'm sure this song was one of the reasons you even took interest in me at the first glance."
YOU ARE READING
The Boy She Left Behind ✓
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