The Lost Souls

Cover Your Head Darling

My hair picks up, sweeps over my forehead and lingers there. I swat at it, smoothing out to where it should belong to in an irritable fashion. But it blows over again, flying out of where it's supposed to stay, being free, being rebellious. One strand of hair is weak compared to my fingers, yet it irritates me so much. It swirls up again, harder, more knotted and I want to claw at those hairs in frustration. Might as well rip them out because they're so frustrating. They tickle my nose; they prick at the corner of my eyes, tiny little tickles of hair. I wish I had tied it up or put it up now. It's one of those days where the littlest thing will irritate me, like how my toes feel uncomfortable in the corner of my sock or how the sleeves of my coat don't cover my hands the way I want them to.

I'm deep into the forest, deeper than I have ever been. I'm not even afraid, yet. I just want to walk and not stop, no matter how tired I feel. There's a dull ache in the muscles of my legs, my knees feel a little weak. But stopping means thinking, thinking is killing me. What I need to solve my problems is only making my problems loom over me much more.

They're so broken here; they're thin and fragile like the lead of a pencil. They're barely holding themselves together, spaced out awkwardly; those gaps feel like they need to be filled. The ground is covered in the brownest, driest leaves I've ever seen, some barely hanging on to brittle branches of the ash-coloured twigs. The open air is gaping at me from above, no canopies to shield me from an incoming rain.The sky is covered in grey puffs which deepen in colour every passing moment. And it's so much colder, it bites at my cheeks. It nips at my fingers, and gets under my nails, rattles my teeth. I spin on my feet, taking my new surroundings in, my feet stamping on the crispness as I do.

It's chilling actually. Nothing breathes, nothing struggles for it. When the wind pulls at the roots of a tree on the outskirts of town, it doesn't give without a fight. But here, it's the definition of giving up. Of letting go. Nothing lives here. Nothing tries. If a storm broke through here, nothing would fight for itself. More leaves would fall; more cold would fill this gaping hole. I shiver, my teeth chatter in my mouth. My hands feel stone-cold and colder.

I see the pounding footsteps hit the forest floor before I hear them. Does that make sense? I dread them because they are all the answers to my questions, yet I don't because they're also questions to my answers. I know too much to let it go, I'm beginning to accept it because the inner torment, the inner confusion is killing me. The truth can't be run from and those words were true. It's nearly been a week since I stepped foot into that house, my own home suffocating so much I had to get out. And now the cold bites at my skin, saying hello to me. It's been too long.

He runs in tempo and fast, concentrated, calculated footsteps. It's like I could go to the ends of the Earth and he'd still manage to be in the same place as me. Sweat on his neck, a dark patch at the neckline of his faded grey shirt. The combat boots replaced for running shoes, the jeans replaced with black sweatpants. Music plays in his ears, white earphones in his ears. His eyes are bright, till they fall on me.

I stand dumbly, my body sideways, my head turned towards him. I'm paralysed again. Not sure what to do with myself. This is getting tiring. He looks up at the gaping hole, more interested in the surroundings than me it seems. His run slows to a walk, understanding on his face, like he knew I'd be here. We stumbled into the same cemetery, what are the chances?

It's awkward now; you can see the inner conflict. The decision to make. He chews his lip in the middle of the dying decay. It's in him to be kind, yet, he promised to stay out of my way. He's very in my way. Not intentionally but still. I'm tired of running away. And as if that decision made it happen, a drop of water falls right on the parting of my hair. Maybe it was a bad idea to wander this deep into the forest; I don't even know what route I took or how to get back.