Prehalia's Demons(Completed) I #Wattys2019

16 I PIECE OF PAPER

I'm suddenly overwhelmed with emotions when I hear my name being spoken. But it's not just anyone: it's not Jessica, it's not another boy that's trying to get my attention...It's him. Leonardo.

The voice gradually gets louder, yet it still is silent enough not to grab anyone else's attention. I continue on walking towards school, even though I can feel the chill creeping down my spine. I know I'm alright as long as I move with the crowd. It's an illusion. He's not here. He can't be.

I feel as someone reaches for my hand and intertwines their long slender fingers with mine. The skin is feverishly hot just as I remember it being.

He has always had the body temperature of a well-heated stove.

I don't shift or shake, my feet don't stop moving but my heart sinks and my breath races in hopes to catch up to my rapid pulse.

Leonardo is here again and I don't dare to even glance at him. I don't know if anyone pays any attention to us and what is happening. They seem to have forgotten that he was ever a student here but then again back then and even now, he isn't easy to get noticed if he wants to be just another shadow in the sea of faces. If he strives for attention, though, he shines brighter than anyone else in the room; or maybe it was just my feelings that were playing tricks on me back then.

His fingers squeeze mine even harder and I try not to say anything, not to pull my hand out of his grip. That wouldn't be smart. Not in school, not where everyone can hear all of my dirty secrets that hide behind this boy's teeth, like venom that he's ready to spit out at every moment. Because Leonardo Sanchez knows me better than I want him to do, better than I know myself sometimes.

He still hasn't said anything and I wish I could run, but I also wish I had the courage to look back at his face and read his expression. I can feel his glare begging me to take a peek at him, to know what he prepared for me. But I'm afraid to see my own reflection in those grey clouds of eyes and remind myself of the past.

There has always been something in his stare that sent chills all over my body but I used to love the thrill of it. Now, I'm simply terrified.

Still choking internally on the pain and guilt I experience every time I'm in close proximity to him, I try to remain natural. I don't let my hands tremble and I start roaming the space with my eyes, scanning every possibility for me to run away to.

We're still moving with the crowd and he's still at my feet, not saying a word. He knows his silence makes it even harder for me to think.

The simple presence of him already makes me want to vomit my breakfast.

I hear a rustling sound and jump slightly when the hand that was holding mine is replaced by a piece of paper. I let myself look down at it. It's smashed into an ugly wrinkly ball. I guess he changed his strategy in the last second.

And as if he was never there in the first place, a mirage, he goes away. I take in a deep breath but I'm scared from what I can see written on this paper. I don't dare to look at it another time until I've finally gotten inside the building and to the closest bathroom. Seems like that's as quiet and as remote it can get in a crowded school.

With shaking hands I carefully unwrap the message and take the time to flatten it and make the wrinkles disappear even though I know it's impossible.

You can't make a wrinkled piece of paper look brand new just like you can't compensate completely for broken trust.

While working on the task at hand, I only see him. I can almost put myself in his shoes. Now I look up at the mirror but I don't find my reflection, I find disheveled black hair and bright grey eyes. I see him as he changes in front of my eyes. From the moment we first met, to the moment when he, he...