The silence between me and my father lags on. My breaths are anxious, hesitant, very much audible. Every time I look up to meet the man's hazel eyes, I freeze in an instance of fear, and then settle, realizing that this man may not be the one who chased after the girl on the red bike.
The seconds turn to minutes, and no words have been said. Until there's a breath: a short, momentary breath that allows the man to say, "I want to help you, Lola."
I say nothing. My thoughts claw away at one another, each one attempting to get ahead. Eve: she's the brave one, tells me to listen. She wants me to find closure, but Eve has bad judgement calls sometimes, told me to confess my love for Dr. Park. I call the other one Aviana, and she's angry, filled to the brim with concern; she wants me to run for the hills. But Aviana's afraid; she doesn't know what courage feels like.
So I continue to bask myself in the torturous silence, and the clock continues to sound in the empty hallway.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.