Chapter Three- Stormy Blue

12.2K 611 53
                                    

POV back to Tao :))

"I'm sorry"
That's all he said.
My stomach filled up with dread.

One. Two. Three. Four.

"You can't work here anymore"
He continued, "there have been too many complaints."

As I stare into the kind eyes of my (ex)boss, I nod in understanding.

Inside, my body is shaking, a slow tremble rocking my heart and striking my nerves. Frantic thoughts catapult around my skull, 'what am I going to do?'; 'how am I going to survive'; 'I need someone to help me!'

These thoughts got louder and Louder and LOUDER.

On the outside, I was as calm as could be. He truly didn't want to do this, I saw the raw guilt in his eyes. If I cried, he would feel worse; I wouldn't let him be upset because of my selfishness.

"That's alright Mr Smith! I understand completely." I exclaim with false positivity; it seems to work because he noticeably calms down.

Inside my mossy green coat pocket, my hand drums out a manic rhythm.

Onetwothreefourtap.
Onetwothreefourtap.
Onetwothreefourtap.
Onetwothreefourtap.

F-four taps on the wrist.

Once I had collected the limited amount of personal items I had, I left the store giving one last smile to my (ex)boss.

Everything's going to be okay
Everything's going to be okay
Everything's going to be okay
Everything's going to be okay

It starts to rain.

It's raining,
It's pouring,
The old man is snoring.
He went to bed,
And bumped his head,
And couldn't get up in the morning.

Across the street I catch the gaze of   stormy blue eyes. A visual representation of my emotions. The man smiles and I smile back, his ginger hair glinting- even in the pouring rain.

It looks so soft to the touch, along with his beard which seems to be just the right length- not too stubbly; not too unkempt.

Next, I notice his strong build. Those muscle-packed arms could protect and hold me ever so gently. He is beautiful- handsome seems too petty of a word to describe the dream that lays before me.

He appears amused at my constant staring, yet I can not seem to stop. I am trapped in those mystical eyes- a prisoner of my own daydream.

A loud honk transports me out of the staring match and I quickly cross the road. There is no use in dreaming, I am a challenge that no one wishes to conquer- let alone a handsome man.

Although it is not plausible that I will see him again, I name the red- haired fellow; 'Stormy blue'.

Stormy blue,
Who are you?
Will you be,
The saviour of me?

Finally I reach the pale pink door of my humble home.

I adore all colours, but pink has a special place in my heart. It reminds me of joy, of hope, of my mother...

Suddenly the silence that suffocates the air of my kitchen becomes all too noticeable.

I'm alone. All alone once again.

Out of all the numbers, one is my least favourite. It means loneliness and me without my family.

Sometimes I get really scared when a car drives by too fast but I do what my mummy taught me- my real mummy. Not the monster she became when things started to get worse... She said that if I want to calm down, I need to count to four...

One two three four.
I don't want to do that anymore.
But I will,
Because I'm still,
Trapped by this illness,
Like a fly in a silky web.

Imperfectly perfect Where stories live. Discover now