Phylicia
She wasn't so sure for a second if his hand was cold but when he started to stared at her deeply, she felt like her body would freeze any moment. And Phylicia stared back at his icy eyes as if her topaz eyes could stop the rushed coldness that began to shivered down her spines. She was so focused to his eyes, she began to think if she could get drown by them.
Phylicia found it strange that she wanted to stared at them for many seconds. Knowing that she had done it by now or at least that what made her feel like as if a moment of staring at his eyes was eternity, she honestly would say that looking at them was all worth to waste a time than anything. She could picture herself staring at him from afar, or staring at a wall—yet what she could only see was blue eyes gazing at her. As if there was a world deep within his eyes, one that she eager to enter in.
She felt frigid. But she liked the coldness. Because she knew that it had the power to break all her demons inside, to make all of her ambivalences all freeze and the time to stop. It was the moment that Phylicia wanted to live but later her mind reminded where she came from or who she was and her body alerted. Something awakened inside her as she started to feel aware where she was and who was in front of her.
Harvey. A total stranger.
Breaking the clasped hands with a force adroitly, Phylicia felt the coldness vanished and she was back to the real world. She dolorously stared at the window, faltered with her palm rested on her chin. She planned to render calm but deep inside, she was nervous for a reason she couldn't see. Something was proliferating inside her—something alive and evil that it felt like her heart was going to be ignited. Then she tried to loosened her tightening chest, and glanced at Harvey to see if the guy did exist.
Yes. He is real.
She moistened her lips.
She wondered if this was because she met a stranger and that she never had tried to contact with people for a long time. Phylicia remembered her friendly side, with her body dancing around with the other happy kids. She had never used that side anymore for she reckoned that her remaining wounds wouldn't let her. She had enough of other people becoming a part of her life when she found out that most of them had taken away somewhere far from her. Somewhere she could have gone into before if she could've listen to her other voice, but she did not because there was still bits of hope floating inside of her. And she hated she had it.
Because having hope is a scary thing. It'd mean to risk first to start moving on. And moving on was the hardest thing she had done.
There were times when she tried to encourage the demons inside and listened to them. They would tell her to jump in a very deep ocean from the precipice where she stood by now and sometimes she would find herself nod in unanimous. But at the end of the day, it was only making her feel scared of what was the coming peril that could possibly end her life.
Those were her depressing days. And all she ever did was cry and cry until she could no longer feel anything. Then if it comes back, she'd lock herself in a book filled with endless journeys of the fictional characters she had always adore. There, she could feel herself alive and happy. That's why books were her best escape—the only thing that could lift her spirit up. But it was only going to make her that.
She has given up on the thought that books could make her life become perfect. It was all the same. Depression and anxiety still comes in, as if they were her own prisoner.
Her head lifted down. Her tears was going to fall down and she discreetly wiped them.
She sighed. Her heart was still hammering through her chest.
