Intersect. [MH] (Editing in Process)

When One Thing Ends, Where Do I Go?

  Walking through the door had become her worst fear. Irrational, but the legitimacy was underlying regardless of how things seemed to be.

Paranoia consumed her daily, she was constantly fighting the urge to hide away from any and all living beings. It was an uphill battle, one that was evidently impossible to overcome,

"Baby steps."

She repeatedly whispered to herself whilst staring at the large metal doors that seemed to glare right back at her, feeling the cold radiating off of them would have been enough to send her running miles in the opposite direction on any other day.

Today, however, was important. She had an immaculate attendance record when it came to group and she wasn't going to let her fear steer her away from the only place she felt normal. It was liberating that she could sit amongst a group of people, speak her truth, and feel empowered at the same time.

"You gonna open the door there, love?"

The unfamiliar voice startled her unsettled mind, she flinched ever so lightly at the tone of the strangers voice before cautiously turning around to face a curly-headed man. He had piercing hazel eyes, the kind of eyes that make you question whether they're truly qualified as hazel, due to the overpowering amount of the hickory – almost umber colour in them. The specks that decorated his iris' fluctuated from sage to olive green, his eyes were nearly a garden;

"So are you going to keep starin' at me then? You're obviously here for a reason, correct me if I'm mistaken, but I've got the feeling that you're not meant to be guarding the door."

He spoke with confidence, though his words exhibited tedium,

"Uh yeah sorry, just having a bit of an internal episode." She half heartedly explained, not want to go in depth about her issues with a complete stranger.

Her heart raced out of senseless fear.

Hands trembling – Eyes welling with tears – The urge to run far away battling common sense.

His voice sounded, the way he annunciated vowels as if they'd been hopping on his tongue was almost angelic,

"S'alright, love. We've all got a bit of a mess in our heads. Episodes are inevitable, probability's a real kick in the ass, innit?"

He reached his hand towards the door,

I could feel the cold.

Wrapped it around the handle,

I could hear it sizzle.

And pulled it open as if he'd done it effortlessly.

The thought of my skin making contact with the metal made me shiver beyond control. I couldn't help but pair the misconceptions of what it was like with water, an endless shower, like standing under a waterfall for an excessive amount of time.

Except,

Contrary to reality, the water was at such an extreme temperature that the cold felt scorching hot. Comparable to being engulfed in flames, dancing around you as they plot their next move to sabotage your freedom ever so delicately.

"Yeah, it is," I mumbled.

It was to my surprise that the man who'd been standing outside with me for nearly fifteen minutes had understood my incoherent reply, to which he chuckled under his breath. He had pressed his back up against the door, exposing the interior of the rustic building and simultaneously inviting me in.

She was hesitant.
He was patient.

Every single step towards the door became an encounter of conflict, a tussle between body and mind. I was cautious and slow, eyes fixed on the ground below me. After what seemed liked hours, I'd gone from staring at the jagged pavement to the somehow soothing tiled floor.

A voice pulled me out of the trance-like fixation to the ground below me,

"Your thing is doors, yeah?"

The curly haired man had inquired as light-heartedly as possible, careful not to trek into territory where he wasn't welcome. I nodded slowly, not mentioning that it was only this door, and avoiding his gaze with the sole fear that he'd look straight through me.

"I'm Matty by the way," he reached his hand out for me to shake.

His right hand – the one that had made contact with the door – was in his pocket. I noticed, wondering if he'd done is subconsciously or out of consideration. Nevertheless, our hands met and grasped onto each other gently. Neither one of us were willing enough to test the waters,

"I'm Archer," I paused, focusing on our shared gesture. "What's your thing, Matty?"

"Cocaine."

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Okay hello, I didn't want to write an authors note but here I am. Thank you so much for reading this! If by any chance you find yourself enjoying it even slightly, voting would be very much appreciated. I'd also love for you to comment and chit chat with me, interactions mean a lot to me so that'd be really cool.
Thank you!
-Ven

Right so another little update. I've been having a bit of an internal crisis with trying to choose which point of view this story should be in. So I've just changed it a little more than half way through the chapter because it felt right. So yeah, cheers!