chronophobia || river phoenix

.01

"i-i don't know quite how to explain it," i twiddled my thumbs in my lap.

i looked up into April Royer's hazel eyes, my therapist of three months. "lets start from the beginning then, Sasha."

i took a deep breath. "there is this man. well i'm not sure he is a man, i see him at all different ages. but i know its the same person. i see his face everywhere. just staring at me in wonder, like he wants to ask me something. it is almost comforting." i cough at the tension in the room. the only sounds that can be heard is April taking notes on how insane my story must sound.

she looks up, "go on."

"well it started in my year book. my friends and i were looking at group pictures and i saw him. his blonde hair and deep blue eyes. i pointed to him and asked my friends who he was. but they said i was pointing at nothing. from then on i never brought it up." my palms were becoming clammy as my heartbeat began to speed up.

"that made you feel alone. isolated." April concluded.

"but then it became more frequent. in large crowds at the park i would see him. i could see him while i was sitting in a coffee shop crossing the street. once i even ran outside to catch up with him. he faced me and we made eye contact. then a car passed and he vanished. he would be in my dreams. but i was never afraid of him. he made me," i rubbed my forehead as my head began to pound, "he makes me feel comfortable."

"this is extremely common, Sasha. you have been through lots of trauma, this is your brains way to help you cope. that is all. this is why you are not afraid of him."

"no. no! you do not understand. i thought that too, i really did. but i went to the county fair last weekend. a-and they have these tents where you can get face paintings or people can draw you. yknow local people trying to make money from their talents."

i rubbed the back of my neck, "the lines were very long. all of them. but there was this elderly man, with his own little station set up. he had these beautiful paintings, landscapes, portraits! they were nothing like i have ever seen. i asked to if he could paint something, anything for me. he asked me to smile, once i did he told me that it came to him. and he began painting. he painted me, but i wasn't alone."

i stood up from my chair and walked to where my backpack was near the door. there the canvas laid. with his face on it. i brought it over to April and carefully put it on her desk. "look at it! that is him! it's the one i have been seeing. i am not crazy. how did that man know? i have never met him in my entire life. look at this painting! tell me something."

i unraveled the paper that the old man had painted on. i leaned over so April could see. there i was, sitting normally, a soft smile with a look on my face that felt somewhat peaceful. but that wasn't what we were looking at. it was who was standing behind me. his hand resting on my shoulder in a supportive way, this man or was he a boy? blonde hair and deep blue eyes, almost grey. with a slight smirk, just there with me. 

April inhaled sharply and leaned back in her chair. she pursed her lips together and slapped the folder she had been writing in shut.

"what is it?" i asked, my eyes filled with realization, "you know him, don't you? who? help me, in need to know, please!"

April began shaking her head at me, and looked around before speaking, almost making sure that we were alone, "stop. stop!  i need you to listen to me. do you know who River Phoenix is?" April asked as her forehead creased with worry.