Where Do We Go from Here?

iv

"What do we do now?" He asks as smoke belches out his mouth which despite the cold has not lost its plumpness. Great, another one of God's favorites. We are currently at a distance of about three feet. Just enough for me to look up to his face without straining my neck.

I frisk my back pockets and slide my phone out. I see the red battery bar in the top right corner of my screen. It is at five percent, just enough for me to message Cobi or Theo.

As I am opening my text messaging app, my phone vibrates and an unknown number flashes on my screen.

"Hello?" I greet as I figure it's someone from the party. "My phone's dying, Rocky and I are-"

"Hi Nam. I'm glad I finally got a hold of you," The voice from the other line says.

Her voice is soft and soothing but it pierces through my ears like a metal spoon being scraped in a porcelain plate. I grit my teeth.

I want to say so many things. How did you get my number? What made you think you can call me? But somehow, my lips are frozen in its place.

"I wanted to meet up with you and Theo and-"

"Don't call me ever again," I cut her off as I manage to pull myself together from the shock, realizing I can't hear more from her because anything more, I will not be able to take. I hang up the phone and stare at my screen.

I hate you.

"Who's that?" Rocky asks but somehow my brain doesn't process the question because I still choose to look at my screen.

So many memories flash my mind at once. If anybody can take a glimpse of the havoc happening within my mind, they will not get one bit. They will not see the end and the beginning of any string of thought and I wish I can say the same. But I am me, and every scene, every memory, every thought, I can clearly see. Most of them, I wish I couldn't.

"Dude, are you okay?"

There is a clear tone of concern from Rocky's words that wakes me up a bit.

"Y-yeah," I stutter as I regain my natural trail of thought.

I look at my phone again and the battery is at one percent. I still wager it so I open my messaging app but my phone flashes a black screen instead.

Great.

Just great.

I look up at Rocky and he seems defeated. "You call, my phone died," I order.

"I don't have my phone with me," He exclaims as he plants his face in his hands.

Again, great.

Just great.

"Who leaves their phone somewhere else? Don't you get separation anxiety or something?" I retort, obviously throwing him some of the pent up emotions I have no idea how to handle.

"Who leaves the house with a red bar?" he counters. "Let's just shout."

We have done that for a couple of minutes but to no avail. I guess the music has drowned our screams and we are too far from 'The Lobby' for anyone to hear. People can get murdered in this house, and nobody will know. It's stupidly huge.

The shouting did help me shake my unwelcome thoughts away, so maybe it was not totally in vain.

I figure this might take a while, so I decide take a sit on the floor but as I crouch so does Rocky. His face could have touched mine if he has not halted. Our faces are an inch away from each other. I catch a swift glimpse of his dilated honey hazel eyes before he bolts straight back up. My heart starts throbbing and I hope he has not caught my flushed cheeks.