"It's easy to fool the eye but it's hard to fool the heart"
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The pain on Matt's cheek was wilting away like a dead flower, but the strident broken voice-recorder that sat next to him seemed to be eternal. The grating voice that pierced his ear lobes was like the BBC reporter who appeared on TV everytime you switched it on.
After barely making it out alive from the scandal Matt had evoked, Ciara decided to stay the night at his place after a heated argument of who would stay where, which ended up in Ciara staying and not to mention boosting Matt's ego, not that she cared anyway. She was more than jubilant for being given an invitation openly.
"A broken nose. Surprising not," Ciara grunted.
"No offence C, but you sound like a pig," Matt said amusedly. The intensifying glare sent his way repressed the tilt broadening in his lips, replacing it with a pretense somber look.
"Better," she said iratedly. "What were you-"
"Thinking? It doesn't matter in the end. The job is done. I'm out," he said coolly.
"Wipe that shit-eating grin from your dope face before I whack your ass till red angry marks appear Matt," she warned pressing the ice pack even harder on his cheek. He hissed in pain and so did his smirk take its leave.
"A temper you have there girl" he mumbled sulkily.
"Says the boy who has nothing better in life than to sulk inside this god-forsaken insect-infested hell-sighted house."
"Fancy your vivid imaginations, C."
"Hold it," she said handing over the ice pack to Matt and got out of the bed.
"Where are you off to?" he shouted at her retreating figure.
"To the cemetery," she shouted back making his scoff. She returned with a beer bottle in one hand and nachos in the other.
"Where did you get that from?" he asked curiously. "The last time I checked the fridge was...almost empty."
Ciara had named Matt's refrigerator as a 'cemetery' because of the variety of food stored in it. Beer and flies were residents of the fridge. A wonderful sight she had explained him the first time she opened the fridge.
Since then, Ciara had never forgotten to buy food before stepping inside Matt's house since he had refused to store food in his refrigerator.
"Figure that yourself," she said getting onto the bed next to Matt.
He reached for a nacho but she swatted his hand away, "Not fair. Give me that." He reached for the nacho packet again but she raised it high so he couldn't reach.
After a world war of fighting for the nachos, she found herself laying below him. His elbows were propped on either side of her, preventing him from crushing her. The nachos and the beer bottle were no where to be found, resulting in both losing but it didn't seem to matter to Ciara anymore. She stared at him like he was an angelic sculpture gifted to her.
She smirked at him. "Taking advantage, huh?" he didn't reply.
His right hand reached to tuck a blonde strand that seemed to escape from her perfect ponytail, letting all the pressure on his left hand that sinked deeper into the mattress. His hand trailed down her cheek slowly, leaving invisible hot sparks bursting on its trail. She stared at him and so did he.
He stared at her hazel eyes.
The sea blue eyes of Ciara were replaced to hazel ones. The bizarre stare of a certain someone's golden-brown eyes were inconspicuously hidden in the back of his mind. It was now visioned on his eyes, like a projector exhibiting its stored images on a large screen.
His mood immediately dropped like the temperature drops in the Arctic ocean. It was replaced with the renowned moody sour-faced Matt.
The image of her eyes were dominating his mind without his consent, and he strongly disliked it.
"Matt?" Ciara asked uncertainly. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing," he said getting off from her and lay on the bed.
"Did I say something wrong?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.
"Nothing. It's personal," he said, brusquely.
With that, she decided to keep her mouth shut.
"Fine," she said. Her voice was equally rough and terse as Matt's.
Awkward silence receded on the pair laying next to each other on the bed, a pint-sized invisible barrier separating the two. The silence was ear deafening and Matt, though not accepting the blame was completely his, decided to break it.
"So-" he started but was halted by Ciara's eteranal talks again.
"I'm leaving to Mexico," she said quickly. He stayed quiet, apathetic to her statement. She wasn't dissapointed over Matt's muted stance, if anything she would have had a stroke if he had actually reacted instantly.
"When?"
"Tomorrow. With Jasper."
Matt resumed his stance again, being mute like a bat. It infuriated her.
"I'll drop you," he said calmly. It infuriated her even more.
"Don't tire yourself," she said angrily turning away from Matt. The pallid wall that faced her was more sparkly and friendlier than the face of Matt. His angelic sculptured face had transformed to a horrendous cringe-worthy zombie face, according to her mind.
She shut her eyes forcefully and within seconds fell into a deep slumber.
"C, are you awake?" he asked after awhile, leaning over her body with much difficulty and took a peek at her face. He sighed realizing she had fallen into a deep slumber. Ciara had always been a heavy sleeper, she was one of those who could sleep through a revolution and wake up still feeling the need for a nap.
He lay next to her and let oblivion devour him like a hungry hyena.
Blood was splattered on the checkered tiles of the abandoned asylum. The light coming from the single bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered constantly, causing rifts on Matt's vision. He stood on the centre of the abandoned room that was in the centre of the abandoned asylum.
The tap sound of water splashing to the ground echoed throughout the silent building. A drop fell onto his jacket, he wiped it off and found pink smeared on his fingers. With dread he inclined his head,
The string that connected the bulb was neatly tied around the neck of the still body of a seven-year old boy. The bulb illuminated the face of the boy, showcasing his fear and the blue eyes that held a picture of Matt.
He woke with a start, his heart pounding trying to rip off from his rib cages. His breaths came out uneven, the scene was still playing on his mind fresh as new. The hanging, the look, the fear, everything was freshly displayed with subtitles on Matt's head.
After deep breaths and passing minutes his mind seemed to calm down. His beats became even and the cold sweating had stopped.
After an internal debate with his mind and heart, he decided to say the truth to Ciara. Eventually he had to say it to someone before his mind explodes and leaks through his ear lobes. With that thought he reached for her, only to find the other side of the bed empty. He belatedly realized she had left while he was asleep.
"Such temper."
Sighing, he got up and dragged his self to the bathroom. He took his own leisurely time in brushing his teeth and to wash himself. He didn't care to stare at the mirror, already knowing his status.
Sunken eyes, puffed cheeks, dark under-eyes, lips that seemed to stay in a line permanently and the gloom surrounding him like a fog.
He tread to the kitchen, where the 'cemetery' as Ciara had called it stood and opened it. Grabbing a beer bottle and swatting a pesky fly away from his face, he headed to the balcony.
The sun hadn't yet made its entrance, the sky was colored in pink the color of roses, with splashes of sunflower yellow, orange and a blazing red. Blotches of pale violet had seemed to blend in with the dis-colored clouds, remnants of the waned dusk. The colours appeared to be engaged in a constant fight for dominance. Yellow and orange seemed to be winning, spreading its light over the horizon and bringing life to the dormant city.
Overlooking his balcony that was least a twenty feet above ground, the view of the rising nation spread wide and far. The George Washington bridge stood out from the mediocre skyscrapers and apartments surrounding him. His gaze darkened.
It reminded him of the Golden Gate Bridge.
It reminded him of her, his mystery girl. Was she still alive? What would she be doing now?
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Belle tripped over a rock that stood innocently in the middle of the pavement and fell to the ground on her hands and knees, her bags flying away from her sloppy hands. The gravel and dirt pierced through the skin of her kneecaps and she hissed in pain.
"Are you okay miss?" a male voice behind her asked.
"I'm fine. I'll be fine," she replied.
"Okay then. I'll take your leave," the man said and left. She stood up and whirled around to see the face of the generous man.
She gaped at his retreating figure, "What a numskull."
She dusted the dirt on her clothes which apparently decided to cling onto her like a leech and after no avail she let it dwell on her. Her bags had miraculously flown to either sides of the pavement.
She picked her handbag and walked towards the other one, the contents of the bag were scattered on the floor and she gasped very loudly with her hand covering her mouth.
It made a lady passing by to look at her in alarm, her poodle barking at poor Belle and a man on a bicycle, who was more interested on her life than his task, almost drove into a garbage bin.
Realizing she was the mini spotlight of the street, she blushed furiously, two large salmon-pink blots appearing on either side of her cheeks. She collected the contents hurriedly dumping it inside the bag and left the place.
She entered the coffee shop hastily, leaving behind the cold and gloomy dark skies that threatened an oncoming storm.
She worked at Miss Tilly's during her free time, as a savings for her college needs, or atleast that's what she had conjured up to her parents. She had been working here for the past 6 months, after getting permission from her rigorous parents. Since then it had become her second home and the kind old miss Tilly had always been a second mother to her.
She was instantly hit with the aroma of rich coffee and cakes. The odour clung to the air like lichen on a damp wall. It soothed her ravaging mind instantly, ceasing the storm clouding around her golden-brown eyes. She was the algae that was in symbiosis with the lichen on the damp wall.
"There comes our ray of sunshine," a voice delightedly shouted behind the counter.
The small smile that was on Belle's face broadened a mile, she waved her hands enthusiastically at the old lady sitting behind the counter, "Hi miss Tilly!"
"Haven't you got college today?" miss Tilly asked curiously. Last week Belle had informed that her whole week would be bizarre and she'd be too busy with college to work at the shop.
Belle swallowed, her crossed fingers were hidden behind her back, "It's a holiday so I thought I'll drop by."
Miss Tilly frowned, crinkles formed on her forehead. "But last week you said you would be busy with assignments and your finals" she said with uncertainty blooming on her face.
"Did I?" Belle asked pointing at her. "Oh yes I did. But then we were given...a holiday. A spontaneous one."
"A spontaneous one?" she asked, her voice innocent of suspicion.
Belle nodded her head vigorously, one of her unruly curls tamed with a couple dozen pins escaped falling on her pale face.
"What is that smell? Something is burning. I'll check," Belle offered and dissappeared behind the kitchen doors.
She shut the door behind her and leaned on it, letting out a breath she had been unknowingly holding onto. She inhaled the strong aroma of brewing lattés and freshly baked cakes, but instead ended up having a coughing fit.
In her haste of escaping miss Tilly and her innocuous interrogations she hadn't come upon realizing the condition of the well acquainted kitchen. Which was currently besieged by a fog.
Belle believed falsity and lies ended up on strained situations.
She hadn't a clue that her problem would come as a procrastinating sloth in guise of 135 pounds.
Smoke was spreading like wildfire all over the kitchen making Belle alarmed. She hastily wore the cloth gloves and headed to the oven. She produced a charred cake from the oven that had stopped emitting smoke out after the switch had been turned off.
"Gavin!"
"Has anyone told you how cringe-worthy you sound when you screech like that?" Gavin said coming out from the washroom in the end of the kitchen.
His hands were hidden beneath his pockets and he leisurely strode to Belle and his 'duty', which came out in the shape of a blackened over baked globule of dough.
Gavin, the 16 year old notorious human was sent to Belle as the djinn in disguise. He was all arms and legs, failing to seize control over it and his temper tantrums, he ended up in Miss Tilly's as a substitute for being grounded after almost breaking his colleague's leg. Sulking and flirting was all that had rooted itself on Gavin's mind at Tilly's.
"Weren't you handed the responsibily of baking this cake?" Belle demanded, her hands on her hips.
"Should I lie and say that your interrogations seems more interesting than your curves, detective Martin?"
"If you have forgotten over shitting your pants, let me enlightenment your thwart mind, Gavin Stuart. I am two years old to you. Clear?"
"As crystal, but let me enlighten you the fact that older girls look even hotter," Gavin said sending her a flirtatious wink.
"Kid, you ought to behave yourself before I throw you under the bus and tell your parents of your risqué behaviour," Belle warned.
"Woah woah woah. Slow down over there Bells. I had yet to start and you ended up in risqué behaviour. Virgin Mary, huh?" Gavin's question seemed to be more comical than vexatious.
She laughed and for a moment, all the worries seemed to lift from her shoulders making her feel light as a butterfly. "You're funny," she said pausing to ruffle his stylishly messed hair before leaving to her work.
He scowled, "Nuh-uh, not my hair."
"I know. Also you should inform the others that lunch break's over," she said while knotting her apron trusting her fingers to complete the task.
"How did you know that?" he asked curiosity peeking over his question.
"While you were moping around on who-ditched-who on Instagram, I was observant enough to notice their lunch break ending at late afternoon," she informed with a profound sense of pride.
"Yes, I agree you were nosey enough," Gavin countered. Belle was too preoccupied with the knot in her apron to counter back and ended up tying her forefinger along with the countless number of knots.
"My finger," she tried pulling her finger to no avail. Unfortunate was Belle to have her forefinger superglued to her apron.
"Let me see," Gavin offered. Rounding around the table, he had swiftly made it behind Belle and was already at work.
"Do you think Elias and Martha are...? You know," she ended up saying nothing, leaving it to Gavin to interpret her sentence.
"Dating?" he asked untying the fifth knot. "I don't know but it seems to me it could be more than that. Or perhaps less than that."
"More or less than what?" she questioned.
He stood quiet. "There," he said untying the fifteenth and the last knot freeing Belle's finger. She brought it to her vision, the finger was ringed with angry red lines, she doubted would leave soon.
"Thank you."
He grabbed her by the wrist before she had enough time to cover it. "Care to explain what this is?" he pointed at the deep angry scars that bored onto her wrist.
She stiffened, a brief sense of horror flitting over her face before she expertly quilled it with a tight lipped smile. "Brute scraped me the other day I refused to feed her."
Brute was her landlord's pet cat. The feline was monumental in conspiring against Belle's sparse cartons of milk. And one time she refused to feed her, the cat had left a few scars just above her knee.
This posed a good complaint to conceal the truth of her 'scar'.
Unfortunate for Gavin, he couldn't see through her façade. She had made herself have it in frequent, now the façade seemed to be permanently etched over her prettily agonized face..
The back door that led to the alley behind the coffee shop slammed open with a whiff of cold air and an Elias who looked as if he was attacked by a vampire on his way back. Despite the cold, his face had no proof of blushed cheeks but his blonde hair was tousled by the winds and he appeared paper white in complexion.
"I courted Martha", he said quickly, in between trying to regain his breaths.
The frown on Belle's face replaced to an ear-to-ear grin. However, Gavin showed no signs of joy or bliss least the size of a mustard seed that Belle had.
"He means a proposal," she said quickly clearing away Gavin's confusion and added. "He has a knack for archaic language."
Gavin wasn't well aware of Elias as Belle did since the most times he'd work were mostly on weekends.
His face lit with recollection of a past study, "It was in one of those dopey novels of Shakespeare that my headmaster made me read infront of the whole class," he added the last bit of information to withsay what Belle's incessant smile told him.
"It's time for festivities then. Oh and congratulations for the both of you," Belle clapped but stopped when realizing no one joined her.
"Was it pre planned? Why didn't you say it beforehand, perhaps we could have had a hand in making sure your proposal was perfect," Gavin said. "Wouldn't we have, Bells?" She nodded in agreement.
Elias launched into the series of events that led him to his plight.
Of how he had lunch at the pizzeria with Martha like any casual day as the last five years, only this time he had the audacity to voice his feelings that had brewed in him since the day he had set his eyes upon her. Silence hummed the three people inside the kitchen, letting Belle and Gavin take the time to process the information Elias had shared with them.
"So...," Gavin dawdled. "You're saying, seeing her devour her devilled chicken pizza seasoned with jalapeños and pineapples and origami, as you said, had your impulse work on you to propose to her?"
"Gavin," Belle hissed, offended by Gavin's words even more than Elias did.
"I'm afraid it is a yes."
"Why do you look sulky then?" Belle prompted. "Did she say..?"
"No? Isn't it?" Gavin asked.
"Course not. Don't be rude Gavin," Belle scolded.
"I actually voiced your thoughts, Belle," Gavin said.
"No, I wasn't thinking that way."
Soon enough, the two were in a heated argument of Martha's answer.
"Yes," he said. "She said yes but she wants the engagement in two days."
Halting their banter, their heads snapped to Elias, "Two days?" both shrieked in unison.
Elias nodded. Gavin was the first to speak, "What, is she crazy? In the first place you wouldn't-"
"Have to worry," Belle finished smiling. "We're all here to help you. Share the burden with us."
Elias nodded grateful for Belle to perceive his cumbrous condition.
She added, "Gavin, you like to prove you're all arms and legs, now don't you? Do it for a cause for once then."
He nodded reluctantly, mentally weighing the possibilities of either staying and helping or excusing with the finals coming soon.
"You're staying," she said curtly reading his mind and got back to cleaning the mess he initially had made.
"Wait, where's Martha?" she asked resuming her work. Elias eyes widened, the colour re-draining him again, "I left her at the pizzeria."
Gavin shook his head patting the poor Elias who had abruptly left his fiancé the second after she accepted his proposal, "Dude, you've got a lotta learn about wooing a lady."
"To learn from you? That'd be a disaster," Belle snorted.
Elias coughed, trying to stifle his oncoming laughter, while Belle resumed her work leaving alone a sulking Gavin and a choking Elias.
Belle and the boys were too busy to notice the back door reopening and revealing a very flushed looking Martha.
Belle was stuck in between deciding if it was the cold or Elias' proposal that had her cheeks a rosy pink. She walked toward the charred cake and gleamed,
"It was considerate of you Gavin to make a black forest gateaux for us," she smiled.
Belle and Elias broke out into fit of laughter and Gavin huffed, crossing his arms leaving Martha in bewilderment. Elias clutched his stomach almost choking over his laughter, tears spilled over Belle's cheeks and at the end, a smile broke out from Gavin's rather reluctant face.
Amidst all the laughter, the thought of the report lying on the unadorned vanity cupboard, that she would see on the end of the day, would either seal or save her end.