The Eyes of Someone Blue

What's Going On?

2010-11-10T18:00:00.002+08:00

Hello, readers. I'm sorry for not updating my stories. I've lost interest and passion over the year and I am really disappointed in myself for not finishing what I had started. I've re-read all the chapters and think that my writing style is lame and well, it's not good enough (for me, at least). Also, every time I write, I'll always have to correct my work and I can never stop correcting.

I've thought about re-writing the whole deal again. I promise it'll be better this time. I just want a clean, fresh start all over. But I'm still having second thoughts. Tell me, what should I do?

Honestly, I don't think anyone would enjoy it because I feel that The Eyes of Someone Blue is very... amateurish, complicated, not very well thought out, and figurative. I hope I'm right and you give me another chance to prove myself. I'll try my best to put out the newer, better version of the story soon. Before I get started, I have to get inspired first. Chapter one, here I come! :)

Love,
Sandra Lau.

By the way, this is my new blog url. I forgot to change it the last time. Sorry!

TEOSB: Nine

2010-01-13T16:27:00.003+08:00

The Eyes of Someone Blue: Nine
“May the best man win”

DAY FOURTEEN

Marie Belle

I never asked for this. Only Satan himself would revel watching me suffer. Like hell, who could deny I’m a perfect match for it? Upon all agreements, I have no other talent than putting people on the verge of agony.

I wonder if one day, pain would be like a pinch on my arms and seconds later, it would disappear and I would feel nothing – because if I was to be numbed, I would have lost all my feelings and emotions. So without it, love of the last phase could seem nearly impossible to reach. And with it, the hope I have for the future could at least sound real to me.

I may seem crazy, or painfully shy,
And these scars wouldn't be so hidden,
If you would just look me in the eye,
I feel alone here and cold here,
Though I don't want to die,
But the only anesthetic that makes me feel anything kills inside.

I'm not a stranger, no, I am yours,
With crippled anger, and tears that still drip sore,
But I do not want to be afraid,
I do not want to die inside just to breathe in,
I'm tired of feeling so numb,
Relief exists I found it when I was cut.

– Cut, Plumb

But having to break away from drama for one second was certainly not wise of me, I mean – David and Chase – they are a part of me, and I actually like who I am now. My duty is just to realize that snapping my fingers won’t do the trick.

Put yourself in my shoes, and you would know how a child fighting against a world’s army felt like. It’s just unimaginable. But I keep forgetting. I’m not a child anymore. A girl such as me who has consumed so much confusion and heartsick events should know better. With all the fully-equipped armor and preparation, I am strong enough, believe it or not.

I’ve thought about things carefully then. Chase did ruin everything – our non-existent friendship and David – but without his belief in me, I would have never survived my mother’s death. I believe everyone has an expiry date stapled on their foreheads and we just don’t know when it happens. But I wish I knew; so that I did not have to carry this undying anger to see her again – to say a goodbye, at the very least.

But death is permanent. Wounds may heal overtime but scars are forever. But it was days back when Chase said that 'Scars do not define who we are. It is what we make of them that could change the world around you'. I did was I was told and yes, miracles do happen when you are in need of one.

And when it comes to Dave, his love keeps me alive. It awakens me from the blindness I was veiled under. Like always, I have never felt more secure in anyone’s arms before. He just won’t let go of anything I hold.

Hey, all’s fair in love and war. If one of them drops out of the battle, there would be anything left worth fighting for. No prize, no victory, just more losses to weep over. Now all I have to do is wait, even if they don’t come back.

Thus, am I falling for both of them? Oh, god.

- - -

Chase Anderson

What in hell was I thinking? Is it me or have my decisions been getting a little overrated lately? But it wasn’t entirely my fault – she did kiss me back – so she has to take part of the guilt too, right? Okay, scratch that. I’m the one responsible. And so shall be it.

Before I went crazy in my thoughts, I raced after David back home – his home. He never looked this tattered.

My car was right behind his as I followed him tightly without him noticing the furtiveness. David parked at his front porch, while I quickly got out of my Porsche and paced towards his Lamborghini. He laid on the driving wheel whilst striking some furious blows on it. I never thought I would see him squeeze out tears over a girl – not after Lennea Parkers.

Who is she, you might ask? Don’t fret, you’ll find out soon enough.

It wasn’t long till he sighted of me and thrust through the door of his front porch. Then was when I figured following him was not a brilliant idea after all.

“You can hate me, Dave, but don’t hate her. She had nothing to do with what I intended, I swear –” I told him. Then, David turned around and faced me.

“You can have her, Chase, for all I care. I just want you to butt out of my life,” he warned furiously, “– because I can’t live with you in it. Please, please, would you leave?!” David pleaded.

Yes, I admit – I can be a little like The Terminator who does nothing but destroys though Arnold Schwarzenegger is nothing like me physically. I am of a better quality, deal with it, Arnold. Okay, forget that thought, Chase. This is way more important. Now pull off a straight face. I was good at obeying my own mind, so this certain instruction was not at all a problem.

“So you’re gonna give her up like what you did to Lennea?” I mentioned her name and his face muscles tighten. He must have never heard it for years. Well, he didn’t have the guts to say it even once. No one did. After all, she was the main reason he was mentally depressed before Marie filled the holes in his heart.

“What are you talking about?” he choked after a pause.

“You know what I mean, Dave. Don’t pretend like she meant nothing to you,” I pushed.

“This has nothing to do with her. And no, I did not give her up. You took her away from me. And everyone who I have ever loved.”

“For God’s sake, Lennea died in her apartment in which you help her cause a fire,” David was ready to punch my pretty – I could not believe my ego still did not wear off even at a time like this – face, but he refrained from doing so, and I don’t know why.

“Don’t talk about her like that. She means more to me than you’ll ever know, Chase. And that’s because you’re reluctant to face the fact that you will never find love, because you’re just as fake and selfish as Dad!” his rage made me flinch. “Why can’t you just admit that you like seeing me like this; to see me unhappy, for the most part?”

Why bring Dad up? He raised us up well, considering we did not have to lift a finger for almost two decades now. But on the other side of the hill, I have to agree. He wasn’t a great father. We were never good enough to please him. And that sort of urged him to be on the look out for other artists he could make contracts with. Though David and I possess many, Dad will never see anything good in us. Let the curtains down – it’s end of story for the Anderson men.

Easily as it seems, it was the hardest thing I had to do by far. I was done fighting. Lies are just way too complicated to be kept as a secret. So here it is now.

I need another story,
Something to get off my chest,
My life is getting kind of boring,
Need something that I can confess,
Till all my sleeves are stained red,
From all the truth that I've said,
Come by it honestly I swear,
Thought you saw a wink, no,
I've been on the brink, so . . .

Tell me what you want to hear,
Something that were like those years,
Sick of all the insincere,
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away,
This time, don't need another perfect lie,
Don't care if the critics never jump in line,
I'm gonna give all my secrets away.

– Secrets, One Republic

“How can I admit that I can’t live one day without being jealous of you? How can I admit that I’ve always dreamed of living your life for a change?” it was my turn to pour out my emotions – and yes, I have emotions, “– because you don’t have to do anything, Dave. You don’t have to, because in the end, you’ll get everything I wished for, and that comes without effort.”

“That’s not true, Chase,” he stated, “You never said anything.”

“You expect me to come up to you and say ‘Hi, I envy you?’ Don’t be foolish, Dave, you out of all people should know I have more self-respect than that,” I glanced up to scan his expression and David was grabbing onto my every word, “All I could do was play tricks on people.”

“I don’t get it. Who are you trying to fool?”

“Myself, in particularly. In middle school – even back then, popularity was no exception to me, or to everyone – as a matter of fact. I was scared that my life would be ruined if didn’t do what I did. So I started off by getting the prettiest girl in class, a spot in the football team, bringing up our family name, but I was never fully satisfied. Call it perfect but it’s . . . not. I was living a lie for almost half my entire life. It’s about time things started to change.”

“That’s quite a speech there, Chase. Are you sure you’re not making empty promises?” David tried to reassure himself.

“No,” I said dryly. And I finally told him why, “I give you my word for that.”

“I’m sorry I judged you,” David let out a sigh. That was fast. He forgave me in less than thirty minutes. What a record.

“I’m sorry I gave you a reason to,” I retorted; glad that I was finally given a chance to smirk again, “And before you say anything else, I want you to know that falling for Lennea and Marie was nothing but a coincidence.”

“A coincidence, really?” he teased.

“C’mon, don’t do this to me, Dave. I just told you my deepest, darkest secret, and this is how you repay me?” a wide grin came after a giggle.

“I was joking, Chase. Anyway, it just shows we have extremely good taste.”

We punched our knuckles together like we used to. Normally, it follows after achieving some sort of success, and this absolutely is our greatest one – being able to trust each other again. “Thanks for listening.”

“Great to have the old, humble you back,” David acted a servant’s bow, “And it is my pleasure, your highness. So where could the egoistical, self-centered beast be?”

“Ouch. Oh, don’t worry, Dave. I haven’t lost him yet. Wait and see,” I simpered.

David Anderson

He just did it – the Chassell F. Anderson trademark smile. I guess the real deal didn’t go missing after all. He remained like the usual self, but this time I did not judge, because for once, I know who he is. I get that now. No matter how hard he’s trying to be The Next Big Thing, Chase will always be Chase – my selfish brother.

“Now would you do me the honours of trying to snatch Marie away from me? It’s about time you return to her and make things right again. She needs you,” Chase made a strict demand I doubt I could follow.

I shook my head faint-heartedly, “I don’t know, Chase. She hates me. It would take awhile for her to forgive me.”

He tittered, “Hate you? Why would she hate you? In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Tell her you still love her, Dave. She needs to hear it.”

“So, what are you gonna do next?” I asked hesitantly.

“Fight until the very end and I shall spare you no mercy,” Chase flashed a wide grin.

“May the best man win,” I reached out for a hand, and he shook it.

TEOSB: Eight

2009-11-16T11:59:00.019+08:00

The Eyes of Someone Blue: Eight
“A Cure for Anguish”

I felt that night, on the stage, incredibly close to everything in the universe, but also extremely alone. I wondered, for the first time in my life, if life was worth all the work it took to live. What exactly made it worth it? What’s so horrible about being dead forever, and not feeling anything, and not even dreaming? What’s so great about feeling and dreaming? — Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

DAY SIXTEEN: TUESDAY

Marie Belle

Our noses bumped into each other; feeling his heavy breath lingering on my temple. I glanced at him docilely because I didn’t manage to hear his whisper. Instead, I caught his lips and kissed it. I was too weak to curb myself. As confused as Chase was at first, he went along with it after. My mind commanded myself to pull away but my body won’t let me. All the kisses I osculated, Chase did the same.

He pinned me down on the bed and kissed me fiercely as if he’s trying to show how it’s done. What am I doing? Get the hell off him! And then, there was a will that pleaded me to halt. Hence, my hand quickly crept up to his chest and gripped onto his plain grey shirt. At last, everything came to a pause.

“You have to leave,” I said indignantly with a wrinkled forehead.

Clearly, I am as puzzled as he is. Chase sent himself out and as he looked back at me, I was puckering my lips to block the tears from being tasted.

At a time like this, who knows what will happen next?

- - -

Chase Anderson

I didn't grasp the meaning of that enigmatic comment until much later. But she kissed me. I don’t why I say it like it’s a bad thing when it's not. At least, it helped me apprehend.

David’s right. She’s not a girl who would wait in line to marry me. All those fans, I will never know the genuine reason why they do. I may be rich, famous, good looking but when I look in the mirror, I see nothing. As much as it kills me to say that Marie is not mine, but she will be.

You'll think I sound confident but honestly, I'm as scared as a pipsqueak. It's a first when I’m not sure what will happen exactly, and that's why this should get interesting. Though I am sorry to jump into David's life and steal his properties, but heck, he needs a challenge anyway. Nothing comes easy, and Marie isn't going to be any different. I didn’t care if I hurt my brother – all I wanted was to have her.

You might think I'm an evil troll who enjoys browbeating Dave, which obviously, it's just for the fun of it. But in this case, it's a totally different situation. I never had the intention of destroying him.

That brings me back to middle school, since our mother discouraged home school education, Dave and I gave it a go at normal schools where textbooks exist and recesses were all about getting yourself dirty. I had the most pretty and popular girls, and I played with them like toys. I always competed with him but he never seemed to bother. He lived without any attempt of achieving something, and he often got what the presents I wished for.

In fact, I was so jealous of him I couldn't bear to let him have the things I wanted, and I still am. There, I've said it. The truth - it was so painful, I just had to bury it.

- - -

The city lights – I shielded my eyes from its glimmer. My hands were tucked in the pockets, still walking blindly as I contemplated about her. I half-smiled to myself - ignoring the silent squeals as the face of Marie Belle flooded my mind. I figured I couldn't live with myself if she was to weep upon her mother's death alone.

My concern for her has pumped adrenaline twice the speed in my veins. I ran with full force while I beat myself up in the head. For being such a fool, I hated that I listened to her because I'm sure me-leaving-her-side was not what she truly desired.

- - -

Soaking wet, I knocked on the door courteously but in an urgent manner.

“David!” Sarah and Mr. Belle yelled in unison. Oh, right. That reminds me. I haven't told who I am yet. They seemed elated for a moment there as if my advent was some kind of a momentous parade.

Nevertheless, I seek to be pertained to their operation as well, so I must return their hospitality with my help. Wait, forget about hospitality. They didn't even show me any! Don't they see that I could barely handle the temperature?

“I'm not exactly who you think I am. I am not David,” I assured. Both of them raised their eyebrows while I let out a heavy sigh.

“Is this some kind of an inside joke? I have no time for silly games, Mister,” Mr. Belle said sternly, “If you think this is funny, I believe what’s best is for you to leave.”

“I’m his twin brother – Chassell Fray Anderson. Just call me Chase,” I revealed before he could yell at me further. It wasn't the best time to expose my identity, and I soon realized it made things even more perplexed than it already is.

“Hey!” Sarah snapped a finger which drew our attention to her, “You can explain about that later. I find Marie’s situation more important to deal with.”

Wow, I never thought the chestnut auburn my brother despised of was this . . . intriguing. She cast a I-could-hardly-care-less-about-you look at me. How pleasant.

“First of all, how did Marie end up in a worst state than we last saw her? It was when you left, it seems like life has left her. She must hate you,” Sarah pointed out impulsively. Okay, I have little tolerance - I know that - and Sarah is getting on my nerves.

“Or it could be the other way around,” I grinned.

“Bullshit. She’s with Dav –” suddenly, her expression shifted to aghast as she covered her mouth, “Oh my god. She switched from David to . . . you?”

I sighed, "It doesn't matter who she's with. I just hope she's okay."

"Well, she's not," Mr. Belle said discouragingly as he peeked into the translucent inner-windows of Marie's room. I don't usually experience this, but it was depressing to see a father give up like that.

"What makes you so sure of it?" I savvied. Even Sarah was curious to hear his answer.

"Because I'm her father, and I know things!" he yelled fiercely. Though he sounded angry, it was more towards sad, "She's never gonna heal after what I did to her."

"You know, you should be sorry. But it doesn't matter. What does is her," I took a glance through the window and mused, "If her own father doesn't believe in her, who does?"

I turned back to face him. First, he looked really impressed - shocked, mostly. I heard his mutter to Sarah, "That man is spectacular."

Hey, I did nothing. But don't you know every man needs to brag once in a while?

Without wasting any more time, I paced into Marie's room. Accidentally, I cracked the silence when I opened the door.

"Didn't I make it clear that I never want to see any of you again?!" she screamed before she saw me. But when she did, she wasn’t prepared to speak to me.

“What are you doing here?” her swollen eyes were pouring, “You won’t find the attention you need.”

"I'm not looking for attention. I'm not asking you for any special treatment either. I know I don't deserve it, but you do,” I took few steps closer, “You know it’s not about me, it's you . . . that means the world to me,” my distressed eyes looked way too concern.

Marie believed it at first, but she snapped out of it and made it seem like I’ve never said it, “Kill me if you have to, I just want the pain to end.”

"Then who's stopping you?" I replied, "David?"

After I managed to calm her a bit, I had her give me some space beside her on the bed. "See? I mean you no harm," I half-smiled. Marie went speechless after that, and that was when the awkward silence started. Before long, she fell asleep on my chest. At least, I thought she did.

- - -

Marie Belle

The sounds of his beating heart were so soothing to the ears. His strawberry aroma were so sweet-scented, it cleared up my nose that was caused by all of the crying. I sniffed in deeply, trying to sedate myself. How can he look so calm even at a time like this?

"Stop it," Chase said, "Stop whatever you are doing." I stared at him, figuring out what he meant by that. "You're trying to calm yourself down when you know you can't."

"Is that so wrong?" I questioned with a bad migraine banging in my head, causing more tears to flush down.

"Yes, it is," Chase confronted.

"It won't work, Chase," I muttered, finally giving in to his theory, "Have you seen the look on their faces? It's like they don't even give a damn. Then how can I . . . how can I expect myself to be alright again? To even give an inch of trust to somebody, to hope for the better . . ."

"You don't have to," I told her, "- because it's okay to feel insecure. It's okay to feel that no one loves you. At least, if you're not lying to yourself, you can prove to them that you're fine with being messed up. Maybe if you give yourself time, you can soon forget who have hurt you and why you have been."

By the time he reached the last word, I dosed off to sleep. Though I have heard everything, my mind was begging me to rest. Like what Chase said, only time can heal me. For now, let's just pray I can keep up the good work.

- - -

DAY SEVENTEEN: WEDNESDAY

Early sunshine and rise, the bed wasn't comfy enough to scare the depression away. As though I haven't slept at all, I wiped my slumberous eyes, feeling the deep, dark eye bags. The glance in the mirror was horrid. I never looked this terrible before, especially with the track of my tears still sighted clearly. It was like a scar - a scar so deep, the stains of tears lining under my eyes could stay there forever.

There were loud, ugly noises outside.

- - -

"No, you can't see her," Chase argued. I’ve never seen him this serious before.

"I need to apologize," a man fuddled, "I need to tell her!"

"Mr. Belle! You're just gonna make it worst!" Chase tried to cease. Oh, I see. It's the beast. This just proves one of my theories right - wherever he goes, he brings heartache. And this time, I'm pointing to Dad, not Chase.

"Wait," I blocked Chase with my arm as I crept from behind, "I want to listen to what he has to say."

Dad looked like he could clobber all of us with one blow when his drunken face lit up. I was interested to see what act he has put up this time. Before any of that, I slapped him on his left cheek first while he balanced himself.

“Don’t you think I would find out sooner or later?!”

Chase grabbed hold of me just in case I awake the monster inside of me.

“Do you think you could handle your mother’s death when you were in a position to die?! As a father, I had no choice but to hide it from you!”

“That's not good enough," I muffled my cry, "I don’t care about you anymore! Because to me, my father’s already dead, so don’t you dare lie to me again. Don't bother,” I maundered lifelessly.

As impressed as I was to see him ruined, there was sensational pain flooding the entire room. So silent, the atmosphere was. Just me staring blankly at him as the tears kept pelting. If there were boulders, I would lapidate him.

"I don't want to see you again . . . ever," he was petrified - everyone were, actually, "I said leave!" I held onto Chase's arm to not let my anger run wild. I tried to control it with everything I have left – to stand there with no sign of weaknesses, to suppress down deeply all the cuts and scars – even though Chase told me not to, I still did . . . because I wanted to make sure my father saw how much I despised of him.

The door shut right before my eyes. Instantly, I lost it – the control, and there you have it – a powerless, fragile soul. Chase’s lulling was useless now, because everything was focused on one panorama: my father left me.

- - -

DAY TWENTY: SATURDAY

Well, when you go,
Don't ever think I'll make you try to stay,
And maybe when you get back,
I'll be off to find another way.

And after all this time that you still owe,
You're still the good-for-nothing I don't know,
So take your gloves and get out,
Better get out while you can.

When you go, would you even turn to say
"I don't love you like I did yesterday,"?

Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading,
So sick and tired of all the needless beating,
But baby, where they knock you down and out,
Is where you oughta stay.

My Chemical Romance's 'I Don't Love You'

Chase’s shoulder was a comfortable pillow to rest on. Basically, I was just trying to figure out why I was always the one to lose. The past three days, moping around became a habit of mine, even worst – tormenting myself somehow felt satisfying for a change. Meanwhile, I tried my best to push away what I don’t want and what I don’t need.

At least, the physiological doctors Chase brought in the house yesterday gave some words of encouragement, “She'll be fine as long as she keeps her mood above average."

Above average? Okay, I have failed. I don't think I have a word for my mood level now. But it's somewhere across the negative point.

“Don’t stay with me all day, Chase. You have a life outside this house. You don't have to do this if you do want to -”

“Trust me, I need to,” he grinned crookedly. Normally, I only fall for Dave's but there is no difference when Chase does it too. I guess I'm a sucker for both. Now Chase would think I am so madly in love with him.

Chase didn't hesitate to have his lips touch mine. And it gave my senses a tingling sensation. This time, I pulled away immediately.

"You know I can't," I uttered without having to meet his gaze.

"But that night -" Chase jumped into conclusions.

"That night . . . was merely because I was vulnerable. And I was gullible enough to let you take advantage of me," I answered back before he could finish his sentence. Look at me, I deserve an award for making excuses one after another.

"That's not true and you know it."

Chase was neither right or wrong. He didn't misunderstand either. I was the one who needs to face realism. But Chase knows how puzzled I am about my feelings. He knows that. But why can't he give me the time I need to sit down and think. I guess he's just tired of seeing me mooning about and revolve myself around lies.

It was the best time to switch topics before he could harass me even more.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm going back to bed. The doctors were right. This depression's really exhausting -" I even faked a laugh as I marched by the hallway. Slowly, tears run down one after the other.

When am I going to stop this?

But I would have never guessed Chase would climb another step higher, exceeding all boundaries when I was helplessly paralyzed against the wall when my arms were fastened tightly.

"That night, you told me to leave, but you didn't want that, now did you? And it took me awhile to figure that out," his eyes searching for answers, "Why is it so hard for you to admit that you actually love me?"

"Because I don't!" I shout back fiercely.

"I'm not convinced," his breath lingered on the peak of my nose as he crept closer, "If you don't, then push me away," Chase grabbed my left hand to his chest, "Push me far."

I gripped onto his shirt, "I can't," impotently saying the words he wanted to hear.

"Then don't," his velvet voice drew me in. Chase forced my hands to the side and planted an emphatic kiss to my lips. Chase lunged towards me and inhaled deeply before our mouths were moving together.

Then, I heard something drop onto the wooden floor. My eyes couldn't believe it. It was too lurid for me to handle. David stood there - dismayed, and utterly weakened. He saw everything there was to see. I wasn't focused on the bouquet of freshly picked daisies scattered on the ground, because David's expression said it all. I could see it in his wateryeyes - he hated me.

"David . . . it's not what it looks like," I told him.

His raging eyes were furious as they got teary. David spat out, "You know, I would kiss you right now if you weren't Chase's. But you are . . . so I won't," in disbelief, he was painfully muttering every word. David ended with a scary yet defeated look at Chase and I. Another loud bang which came from the door filled across the room.

Everyone flinched. Chase tried to touch me, but I screamed at him, "Just fuck off, okay?!"

TEOSB: Seven

2009-11-08T13:41:00.014+08:00

The Eyes of Someone Blue: Seven
“One of too many falls.”

DAY FIFTEEN: MONDAY

In a dream where it starts off so beautifully, Dave would hug me with his arms stroking my back in soothing motions, and I would be absorbed into sedation and feel his utmost ardor. We would embark on a kiss so powerful, that every war will fall beneath us because as a pair, our strength is mighty together like the stars hold the moon.

Lips that lingered on my temple snapped me out of my reverie.

“Dave?” my bleary-self spoke.

“Guess again,” he smirked. A wipe off my eyes gave a clearer vision of the dewy morning. Oh, it’s the arse.

“Chase, what are you doing here?” he frowned after I detected his identity.

I paused for a moment to get the drowsiness cast aside and said, “Ya’ know, after observing you guys with kid gloves, I find you two are nothing alike.”

“And you just figured that out?” Chase simpered.

“Yeah, and you’re the eccentric one,” I tantalized with jest as his forehead crinkled. As I rise up from bed, there was a golden tray of food placed carefully on my lap.

“Acting like a servant doesn’t obliterate the fact that you’re still an anomaly,” I spited for the pun of it. In the meantime, a quick look at the scrummy food served before me had my stomach growling fiercely. There were butter cookies, a bowl of Mac N’ Cheese, and a glass of tropical fruit juice – the classic delights.

“I know,” he smiled kindly. That was impressive – Chase agreeing to an insult. I thought he would be the first one to erupt when affronted.

Ah, breakfast in bed is definitely a prior activity when I become rich and famous. Though that is only limited to my personal dream world, there is nothing wrong in feeling overly ambitious.

As I picked up a piece of cookie, I wouldn’t have expected Chase would do something this inappropriate to his brother’s girlfriend. He held the tip of it, lifted my chin, and tilted my head so he could bite the same cookie which half of it was in my mouth.

Oh god. My reddened face gave him something to laugh about. I kicked the blanket off my feet and propelled to rally my belongings. Like a mad lady, I got the hell out of the room before he could toy with me any further.

Chase – he who was satisfied – did a furtive, diabolic fleer. And that got me ruffling through my hair angrily, while I descended the stairs with loud, stomping steps. That arse. How can I be so foolish to keep falling for his devilish schemes? I am not one who will endure such behavior, so Chase Anderson – prepare to meet your worst nightmare.

Well, that is I think I can pull off the acts of an amateur witch.

- - -

Oh, here comes arse number two.

“Good morning, Lily,” I droned with an I-hate-you-but-I’m-forced-to-respect-you tone in my voice.

Lily’s response was as grim as mine, “Likewise,” she poised at the scenic sunrise and pored, “Friday mornings are most splendid of the week. And I wonder why I’m such in a bad mood,” she turned to me and forced a grin which I translated it into, “Vanish from my sight.”

Tolerating her was hopeless, thus, I was happy enough to not watch her play queen regnant of the house and went upstairs to get dressed instead.

But where should I go? David suggested I should let Parkman do the honors and bring me someplace beauteous. All I know is I can’t stay here. Not when I’m stuck with two of the most hated people in my life.

My eyes couldn’t believe the amount of female clothing wear in a room beside David’s. I hope it’s not Lily’s, but who else could they belong to besides her? Okay, enough with the shock. It’s not like I’m stealing them or anything; I’m just borrowing it so I can go on my errand.

I appareled myself in a patterned shirt with a retro-looking skirt wrapped around my waist. As I walked out, a whisper tickled my ear, “Where are you going dressed like that?”

“Nowhere,” I made a hasty exit.

“If you’re planning to stay here with me, I’ll serenade you all day,” Chase gave a pleading smile.

The thought of it made me shiver.

“Bye, Chase,” I bid a wave at him and walked into the car.

“Hey, wait up!” Chase yelled from behind, and the next thing I knew . . . he was beside me at the back seat. With my arms folded, my face was sulking, my eyes were glaring, and Parkman became one heck of a gritty man to allow Chase to enter without my consent.

“I hate you,” I faced Chase, and I was happy that he looked pretty torn up by that particular comment.

“Why so?” he pushed himself closer to me, leaving myself squeezed.

“You’re snobby, gross, and infantile,” I affronted while Chase expressed an ‘ouch’ face, “Most of all, you’re the cause of my melancholy.”

“Nice speech,” he pretended to clap, “For some girls, this torture is their way of expressing oh-my-god-Chase-Anderson-is-crushing-on-me, so I assume you are no different,” Chase explained with an egoistical smile.

Fuck the heck out of him. Why can’t he just flee off when I tell him to? Instead, Chase would rather stick to me as if he splashed both of us in super glue.

“I don’t give a shit if you don’t believe me. I still hate you,” I said sternly, “And why are you an inch near me? Go further.”

Then, I gave myself a smug glow of self-congratulation after I injured his pride.

- - -

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Chase questioned as he stood in front of me after Parkman dropped us.

“No,” I replied, “I don’t need to know. As long as you keep your distance away from me, I’m gratified.”

“Sorry, but that isn’t going to happen. I’m not letting you disappear from my sight,” Chase held my wrist and hauled me to a night bar called Starlight, “I’m going to sing for you.”

Why isn’t the stupid head distancing from me? Why isn’t he afraid of me? And did he just mention the word sing? Okay, this should go well.

And it pretty much did.

Chase pranced up on the small stage and took hold of the microphone as if he was challenging it. He sang a short prelude to celebrate Starlight’s opening ceremony with pomp. The song was called, Hero.

“This song is something I wrote for a lady – a lady who meets beyond of all my circumstances; she who have yet to love me for who I am, and not who I portray to be. She’s the one who I have to prove, that I’m her hero.”

And that led to a series of ‘I-love-you’ and ‘Would-you-marry-me?’ from the corner where the female inhabitants went gaga over Chase. But he discounted those girls, and I was the only one who he gave to spotlight to.

I didn’t even understand a word of his fucking speech. And why does he think that I will love him? That isn’t going to happen even if I was about to die from poison and he would be the only potion of antidote. Although I’m pretty sure he’s nothing but a nutcase, I stopped cursing him and listened. As Chase glowered at me, he started singing.

Would you dance, if I asked you to dance?
Or would you run and have nothing to look back?
Would you cry, if you saw me crying?
Would you save my soul tonight?

Would you tremble, if I touched your lips?
Or would you laugh, oh, please tell me this.
Now, would you die, for the one you love?
Hold me in your arms tonight.

I can be your hero, baby.
I can kiss away the pain.
I will stand by you forever.
You can take my breath away.
- Enrique Iglesias' "Hero"

I am utterly bewitched by him. He put me under a spell I couldn’t break, and that makes me feel so uncomfortable.

What am I saying? I better to leave before I actually do fall in love with him.

I rippled my hair with frustration and bolted off from the bar. Just as I sallied for the door, Chase went lightning speed to have grabbed my arm in time.

“Marie,” Chase pronounced it as if he was about to confess his undying love for me.

One day, he’ll be the asshole who bugs me around the house and flirts with me like I’m some kind of bimbo bee. And the next day, he’ll turn into a dream. A dream I can’t never fall for because my heart belongs to another.

“Look, I can’t do this - especially not you, because I’ll never know if you’re fooling me or not,” I told him.

And then, his hands crawled behind my neck and pushed me towards him so that he could plant a forceful kiss on my lips. It was too mighty to fight against and the passion of the kiss was beating my own strength. Chase finally freed me, and we pulled away immediately to catch our breath.

I have just shamed my own dignity by letting him do that to me.

“I’m not fooling you,” he said breathlessly, “Out of all those times you thought I was joking, I probably was. But believe me now, because I never meant anything this much before.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I muffled my cry.

I was glad he cut me loose because it was the one time he didn’t chase after me.

- - -

That night, I laid myself on the bed; ceaselessly hoping my prayers will search for Dave and bring him home so I didn’t need to live another day with his brother in picture.

David has been working straight for seven days, and I feared becoming lonesome like I was before I got here.

My vows for the moment – I will stay loyal to Dave. I will not love anyone but him – even if the opponent has what it takes to capture my heart.

But after a long, deep thought, I made a decision that could change almost everything that has been going on. And when I did make up my mind, David returned. Why is there always such irony haunting me from day to day?

Gazing upon his glistening eyes and lustrous ash brown hair made my heart shudder. Either it was from all the excitement or from the guilt of almost betraying our relationship.

“Welcome home,” I smiled.

I ran to his arms that grasped tightly onto me, and this feeling I craved so badly have returned right where they belong. David kissed my hair as he secured me with a hug.

As much as I want to stay, I can’t. But I won’t bail on my vows either.

“Why are you crying?” he assumed I let out these tears because of I was too happy during his arrival.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” I started off slowly in a way the good news comes first.

“Believe it,” he pressed his lips on my neck while we were in his room.

“David,” I sniffed in between a giggle, “I want to go back home – my home.”

“Don’t you like living here?”

“No, it’s not like that,” my forehead furrowed, “It's just that we’re moving rather quick, don’t you think so? It’s been two weeks since we met and now we’re all lovey dovey with each other? It doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“So you’re saying you don’t want to?”

“Of course I want to. But since it doesn’t matter where we are because we still love each other, Utah wants me back. I miss my family, Dave, and I need them.”

“And you’re crying because of that?” David laughed, “Silly, of course I’ll let you.”

“Really?” I grinned and cupped his face.

“Yes, really.”

“Oh, and can you come too? You can live at my house. But there’s no guarantee you’re gonna love living in a pathetic home where you have an exquisite one here.”

“It doesn’t matter. And I would love to go,” he enlightened me, “– but the contract with my father on the show and the tour only ends next week,” then caressed my cheek, “I am so sorry.” David explained that he and his cohort are on national tour so he can’t flee with me.

Yes, I’ve experienced heartbreak. Although this is far behind sadness, I have to admit, I was pretty somber after that. Well, at least by doing this, I get to escape Chase’s torments and stay true to David. So, I’m killing two birds with one stone.

Saves a hell lot of energy, don’t you think?

- - -

DAY SIXTEEN: TUESDAY

“Goodbye,” I beamed, trying to pull away from his tender lips.

“Goodbye,” David said, but he still did not let go of me.

“I’m gonna miss the plane if you won’t stop –” he interrupted me with another I-have-to-kiss-you-a-thousand-times-before-you-leave.

“Tell me why I can’t get enough of you,” he questioned with a wide, irritable smile.

“Because you’re gonna miss me so terribly bad that you can’t sing properly on tour?” I played with him like a toy.

“Then tell me why you are so smart?”

“Because I am, and you’re so dumb,” I laughed, “Take a look at the time now.”

While he took a glance at his watch, I took the opportunity to leave. I didn’t run – of course, I didn’t – instead, I ran full pelt towards the exit; hoping he’ll be alright on his own.

It’s kind of sad actually – okay, who am I kidding? – I meant, really depressing. To part from someone you love, and thinking you won’t ever see him again? It’s a damn good thing I made him swear that we’re not officially leaving and it’s only going to be a period of time before we can see each other again.

- - -

“Passengers of Flight BA135, you can leave the plane in an orderly manner but first, gather your belongings. We will not be held responsible for your lost. We have arrived safely in Salt Lake City, Utah, so join us next time. Till then, have a nice day,” the pilot announced after the landing.

Sitting in the aircraft for solid twelve hours was a pain in the ass, and I remembered myself repeatedly moaning in my mind about how slow aircrafts fly when they are named the fastest mode of transport. Such lies.

Sarah’s so gonna torture me with, “Where are you two getting married?” or “Are you gonna name your kids after me?”

Oh boy. But isn’t this why I love this place?

- - -

Standing right at the porch of my home, I peeked through the translucent windows on the door. It looked pretty empty so I went ahead and entered without knocking.

“Mom? Dad?” I turned left and right with a broad smile on my face, “. . . Sarah?” I called out. But there was no answer. So I assumed Sarah’s attending the first week of our school’s last semester. And Dad should be working at some architectural site, but Mom – I couldn’t think of a place she would rather be than home.

As disappointed as I am to see this place evacuated, I dropped myself onto the couch and planned to wait for their return. But a restless person like me who can’t hold still shouldn’t be, so I roamed around the living room instead.

I picked up plastic bottles, college application forms, work documents that were cluttered everywhere. It was rude of them to litter. I guess they can’t live without me after all.

My eyes caught hold of something. One of the documentary papers lying on the coffee table. And it was queer to find ‘Ivory Road Ceremonial’ bold and centered in it.

Isn’t Ivory Road near my place?

Since I was too jobless, I took a spin around Ivory Road to check out what ceremony I was missing on. Maybe I’ll find them there. Who knows? I just hope it isn’t some Welcome Home prank or some kind of a mishap.

- - -

People dressed in formal black crowded the ceremonial grounds adorned in bouquets of white daisies.

“I think I’m the wrong place,” I muttered to myself, feeling queasy. But I wasn’t. It perfectly stated on the wooden stand of ‘Ivory Road Ceremonial’ in front of the entrance gates.

Immediately after the sullen and slate-grey sky poured down heavy droplets, I regretted my hypothesis. My old car let out noises which probably meant it can’t function anymore.

Then, a few heads started glowering at me after the noise attracted their attention. I stepped down of the car, having the intention to apologize to whoever I bothered. But their faces didn’t seem annoyed or displeased at all. They looked more aghast.

As I paced forward to send my deepest condolences to who might have passed away, I noticed the familiar faces which were saturnine and swarthy. And then I saw Dad and Sarah – both in formal attire – leading the group.

Everyone was shedding a non-stop flow of tears. And then I knew. At least, I thought I knew what was going on.

No . . . it couldn’t be.

My heart sank when my eyes hung onto the wordings engraved on the gravestone.

Clara Belle – a loyal wife and loving mother – died on July third this year. May the angels watch over her.

This is just too much. If this was a nightmare, I would beg myself to wake up. But it wouldn’t work even if I did try. Dad and everyone who knew lied to me. It was all played out so successfully so that I wouldn’t know Mom had died two months ago.

“Mother?” I murmured in horror, and bawled after, “She’s not here?”

She can’t hear me, can she? No matter how loud I scream, she won’t be able to hear because she’s dead. There, I’ve finally said it.

But why can’t I believe it?

All this time, after I willing agreed to be sent away with Dave, I thought I could change and my life would get better. But to know that it was for Dad to plan out a burial ceremony for Mom, it gave me endless reasons why I should join her. I had never felt so close to death before. And I wanted to, so willingly too.

“Marie,” Dad was aghast, “No . . .” he breathed heavily, “You’re not supposed to see all this – you shouldn’t be here!”

Appalled as I was, I fought the outraged disbelief.

I took another glance at the grave, and then my eyes couldn’t take it. They grew so heavy putting up gallons of tears. The bond tied between us had been cut off, and she had let go because I didn’t pull hard enough. I have been holding onto her long enough, and it’s time for me to realize I was grasping onto nothing all along – just the lies I couldn’t believe.

She’s . . . gone.

“You’re a disgrace – all of you!” I yelled.

Chase was in front of me when I turned back to run. I halted for a moment, but I didn’t look at him. Not before long, I exit the ceremonial grounds and bombarded out of there.

They had been deluding my mind. And for what?

My soul – this fragile piece of life – it will always be absent in mind. I hastened into the house, and sprawled myself onto the cold marble floors of my room.

Tears may shed, but memories don’t. Wounds can heal, but scars are forever.

And this is certainly the largest one.

- - -

“Why the hell are you here?! If Dad and Sarah sent you here to check on me, you better just fuck off!” I threw a pillow at Chase but he dodged.

“I didn’t come here for them! For your sake, I came here because I care about you and I thought you needed a shoulder, but seeing how much you despise of me, yeah, I’ll fuck off!” Chase bellowed, “– if that’s what you want.”

But no matter how much he gives in himself to me, he can never fully undergo the same situation I’m going through.

Anyhow, I considered his thought and it was literal. What I really needed was someone to sooth in the pain.

“Wait!” I called out before he stepped out. I invited him to the bed, so I could use his shirt as a mop to suck in all the water.

“I don’t hate you, Chase. Maybe I do - a little - but I didn’t really mean it,” I sobered, “In fact, I hate myself more than I hate you,” I did a fake chuckle, “I don’t even know if I’m the one who screwed up – I don’t even know why things like this always happen to me; it’s as if everyone has a thirst for my grief. But hey, they got what they wanted, didn’t they? But now, it can’t be fixed. Not even you or David can be my first aid kit.”

“I lost a mother. And to think she died two months ago with me totally unaware of it – it’s killing me,” I muttered and cried at the same time.

Divorce – I can handle that. They can stay apart for centuries and I wouldn’t mind. But death isn’t an option – I get that – but it was Dad’s opt to hide it from me.

I know Mom would say, “It’s God’s will.” But why did He have to choose her?

“And I’m tired of people asking me the same question – whether I’m alright – because I’m not; I’m not okay, Chase.”

“I know,” Chase comforted as he toyed with strands of my hair, “Believe me, I know.”

I didn’t even care that he kissed my hair.

Whenever I get pushed down a cliff, David and Chase would be the first to throw a rope for me to hold onto. But that’s not what concerns me. I didn’t care whose rope I would catch first, because all I needed was to know I’m safe.

Chase’s chest was where I rested my head on. He smelt of raspberries – always. For evermore, I will love his scent, and the way it never fails to calm me. Straight in the eyes, I looked at him with much desire. I glanced at him docilely because I didn’t manage to hear his whisper.

Instead, I caught his lips and kissed it.

TEOSB: Six

2009-11-01T13:29:00.004+08:00

The Eyes of Someone Blue: Six
“Meet the Andersons”

DAY EIGHT: MONDAY

How sweet the dreams were, but Mom weren’t in any of them. Why doesn’t she have the courage to tell me the truth? It would have made it all easier. And so, I woke up with a sudden, shaky rise. All covered in sweat, I assumed those dreams weren’t as pretty as I thought they were.

But what was worst was the fact no one was beside me in the bed. I hated that – waking up alone. What am I talking about? We’re born alone, and we die alone, so why does this make such a big difference to me?

I looked left and right. And David was gone. There was a black suited bag hanged beside the white satiny curtains. Then, as I zipped it down, I pulled out a floral dress adorned with patterns of colours cream and sapphire.

The dress graced down to the ground; did David call his friend Donatella to send over one of her pieces again? I hope not. I don’t wanna be his little treasure who he spends millions of dollars on. People will think I’m just hungry for his money, and not his love. But considering I don’t have any proper clothes to wear besides a wet shirt and jeans which clung on my skin, I put it on.

The girl in the reflection – she appeared to look way different than the girl I used to know. Her pale skin like Snow White’s, and her rosy cheeks looked like they were blushing thoroughly. The waves in her dark mocha coloured hair seem to be slightly more defined. Her lips swelled a little, and that pretty much made me realize David and I should cut down on physical touch. And by that, I did not mean anything inappropriate.

“The dress looks good on you,” Lily stood by the door and smiled. I know that smile – it’s the trying-to-look-like-I-am-the-sincere kind. I blenched a little and paused.

“It’s yours?”

“Used to be. My son gave it to you, didn’t he?” she giggled in a sign of making a caustic remark, “He sure knows how to treats the ladies.”

Okay, she’s not helping me through my psychotic mood swing, so I don’t think it’s gonna work at all.

“Excuse me, but that son of yours, happens to know a lot better than you do. So if you don’t mind, can I have a little more privacy?”

I thought she would have exploded or something. But then again, someone saved me from the horrific mother-beast. She let out a snort while Damon pulled her back, “Hey, Lily dear, there’s no need to argue so early in the morning,” he slid a hand onto her arm and led her out. After, Mr. Anderson popped his head in and smiled politely.

It just makes me wonder why Damon would want to marry such an evil head lady when there could be millions of better replacements for this filthy rich family. But then again, David would have been alive if she didn't make the cut.

In the end, she actually gave up, and then came the lull moment. Few minutes later, I walked out with robotic motions and tried to run as quickly as I could before someone catches me.

But Lily had to call me and tag me along with her useless shit. Again, with a scornful tone in her voice, she offered me breakfast. And I really don’t want to create as much trouble as I already did for Dave, so I agreed.

Her expression was hilarious. She didn’t think I would accept it, but I did. So deal with it, lady. And I couldn’t help but laugh at it later as I sat down and munched into the chocolate baked cookies placed in front of me.

“Is it always this quiet? I mean, this place – the house, breakfast, your son,” I put care into the question, “Speaking about David, where is he?”

“It is, isn’t it?” Damon replied with a grin, while Lily didn’t bother to answer it and sipped through her cup of English breakfast tea, “We’re sort of used to it. Like they say, as old people age, so will their children. And my children happen to be fully grown up boys who have their own lives to worry about. Plus, it’s rare to see David around here. I was surprised to find him with a girl last night. It was as if he wanted to introduce you to us. And about David, I think he had to cover for a friend. He has shifts once in a while.”

Oh my god.

Just when I thought of it, this was his master plan, wasn’t it? To have me try and settle between his not-so lovely mother and charming father. I tried hard not to choke on my coffee, and swooned instead.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

I nodded. Then Lily interrupted, “I can’t believe David isn’t wise enough to make choices like this on his own. It’s clear that he didn’t open his eyes wide enough,” she added a saturnine laugh to go along with it.

That ended my time with the Andersons. Seeing her face, listening to her voice, makes me wonder how she gave birth to David. Simply no connections, I find. I had enough of that woman.

- - -

Outside the veranda, Parkman arrived after I gave him a quick call of ‘come save me!’

“Miss Belle,” he greeted while I raised an eyebrow, “I mean Marie,” Parkman let out an easygoing laugh, “You have a lunch date with Mr. Anderson. Would you like to go now?”

“Sure,” a smile lit up on my face, “Get me out of here.”

- - -

Sitting down on the soft sand was a tedious activity to do alone, but I kept my patience in waiting as I drift among the waves of the shore.

Not long after that, a tap on my shoulder startled me. It was David. But his hair was no longer ash brown. It was highlighted with honey strands and they seem to get shorter all of a sudden.

“Why is your hair like that?”

He stammered a little, “Uh . . . the hairstylist wanted a lighter shade on me.”

My eyes broaden. His voice is had gotten deeper overnight. I assumed he got a cold from last night’s terrible weather.

“So . . . you’re done working?” I asked questions that had him falter.

“Yeah,” he answered hesitantly. Still, I believed him even though he’s such a lousy liar.

“Oh,” I bit my lip, “And about last night, thanks for letting me stay.”

Our noses bumped onto each other and our eyes met. His eyes were so shiny, but it was a little darker from Celadon, almost like jade. But I did not want to ask about the many new changes and thought of a logical fact to keep my doubts in company because it could either be my poor vision last night, or he bought contact lenses. Right?

Remember when I said David and I should reduce on physical touch? I think I’ll take that back. Control was a hard thing to do, especially when a temptation like this was impossible to resist.

I was in the moment of planting a kiss on his lips. Somehow, he looked sort of puzzled at first but then he threw his bewilderment away and was amused at the end of it. I blushed before I could speak.

But I had to snap out of the talking-after-a-kiss-spoils-the-romantic-moment and said, “Sorry if I caused trouble over the week,” I giggled.

David laughed, “Believe me, you were no trouble at all.”

- - -

(?)

I came back home with a wide smile plastered on my face. Thinking about her soft, luscious lips, makes me all up for a merry-go-round – or a roller coaster, even.

The night sky’s shift arrived, sucking all sunlight and coating the house with the dark. Just before I could rest and enjoy the rewind of today, David bashed in the door without a knock.

“What did you do?” his voice full of curiosity and choler.

“What the hell are you talking about, Dave? I didn’t do anything besides going downtown for a thrill ride,” I lied with a smirk.

“It’s not funny. Parkman told me everything. You set yourself up to meet her, didn’t you?” he glared.

“What’s wrong about that? I just wanted to see the lucky girl who's making you so freaking happy,” I chuckled loudly at him for a tease.

“Tash Grover, Betsy Theodore, Carla Roslyn, Sasha –” I stopped him before he went on preaching the list of my past girlfriends.

I laughed, “Are you jealous?”

“No!” David yelled at me, “I’m trying to make a point here – that you’re not serious about relationships, and I’m pretty sure you’re gonna mess up mine because . . . you want her!”

“Woah, lil’ bro, chill,” I portray a shocked expression, “Wait, it is partially true that I want her. I mean, who doesn’t? But what kind of brother would I be if I did that?” asking with a cheesy grin, “And I didn’t screw anything up for you. The only thing that she doesn’t know is that I’m your twin brother. See? I’m such a good person.”

I had to fit in a lie when I reached the last part. If I was a good person, Satan could be a better God.

Not before long, his jaw dropped and his legs started racing for the telephone.

- - -

David Anderson

That little bastard! Now, tell me. How in hell am I going to explain to Marie that the man who’s she’s been seeing today looks exactly like me but isn’t me? Okay, even I think that sounds insane.

I picked up the phone and dialed her number.

Chase threw himself onto the sofa and turned on the television to watch the premiere of ‘90210’. Guess what? He’s guest starring on the show to get the female cast fall in love with him, and me? Not interested.

Then, Chase crept up from behind and laughed while listening to my farcical explanation. And it was so hard to put the words together since it’s all jumbled up.

“Hey, Marie, um . . . I need to talk you about today,” I started off fine, but by the time I finished saying the first line, Chase was already in tears - tears of oh-my-god-I-just-made-my-brother-tell-his-girlfriend-that-himself-from-today-is-his-twin-brother.

I would feed my fist down his throat right now, but before I do that, I need to finish talking. I’ve got some serious explaining to do.

“Is there anything wrong?”

“Okay . . .” I took a deep breath, “The man who you thought was me today wasn’t me.”

“Can you say that again? Is it just my lousy phone reception or did you just say that the only David Anderson who I spent my afternoon with is not David?”

“Something like that,” my heart trembled, while Chase was practically biting his tongue to stifle a laugh.

“If the man isn’t you, or a stranger who has done plastic surgery . . . hey, wait, that’s a possibility,” she said sarcastically.

“I’m serious.”

“You are? I’m so sorry,” Marie laughed again, “Who is it then?”

“He’s . . . he’s my . . .” I stuttered, “He’s my identical twin brother.”

And there was complete silence after that. I repeat, complete.

“Marie?” I called for her after a minute’s pause.

“Yes?” Marie sounded astonished.

“Do you mind coming over?”

“Um . . . are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I hope so. It’s time you meet my family – all of them.”

- - -

Marie Belle

Is there any downright explanation to elaborate how I feel right now? And what’s up with the ‘It’s time you meet my family – all of them’ speech? I’m not an idiot because even my stupidity would be smart enough to understand the part where he breaks the silence and tells me about his twin brother, but I should have figured it out earlier.

- - -

Parkman who was fatigued of driving all day long, proclaimed, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you it was Mr. Chase Anderson who wanted to have a lunch date with you. Please forgive me. After all, all Chase wanted was to meet the first girl who captured David’s heart,” he faced me with a teasing smile.

“It’s abnormal that I’m not flushed in crimson red at this very moment, but I can’t think straight. He fooled me, Parkman. And I was stupid enough to fall for it,” I told the truth, but I didn’t mention the details on what exactly happened.

“Well, Chase didn’t do anything inappropriate to you, did he?” he asked.

Immediately, I responded a huge ‘NO’. Obviously, it was a lie. The answer should have been: “Chase didn’t do anything. I DID. I kissed him! And he was so thoroughly amused!” But I don’t think anyone deserves the real truth. I mean, David isn't supposed to know.

I took five steps to reach the entrance. They had been waiting for me, as I expected. But now, there wasn’t one man at the door. There were two.

Side by side, I see the full picture. Identical twins, huh? Normally, I can tell twins apart by their appearances, but this pair seems to not have any differences physically at all.

“So, which twin is which?” I scan through them.

I’m not sure who spoke but I’m pretty sure it was Chase – who had a deeper, huskier voice – “Can you tell us apart?” So he’s the mischievous one, eh?

While David on the other hand, got tired of playing games, “It’s me, Dave.”

David was in a Persian green collar shirt, and Chase was in a buttoned down black shirt with its sleeves folded up. It was as if he dressed himself formally for me, you know what I mean?

“I don’t intend to be rude or anything but nothing unfitting happened between you two, right?”

“Oh, I won’t say it’s nothing,” Chase beamed at me. What an arse.

“Absolutely nothing at all!” I quickly shouted, and had David sighed of relief. Good thing he has way more belief in me than the snob beside him.

Chase’s disappointment brought him crawling to the hallway where Lily was eyeing me.

“Uh, I can’t stay much longer. Your mom and I have complications, and –” I said and frowned when his face turned sour, “Wait, scratch that. I mean, your mom has complications, not me. So I better leave before she kicks me out of the house.”

Before I could head back into Parkman’s car, David grabbed my arm. “Stay – for me, please?” his adorable puppy eyes were practically begging me, “I’ll protect you from her.”

There was a snicker heard from Chase which really miffed me.

“I say . . . yes,” and cast a grin behind my back all the way to the little prig.

Instantly, David was elated again, “Don’t worry about the clothes, food, your needs, wants – I’ll treat you like a queen.”

Okay. That pick-up line was real cheesy. Chase must have given him some speech rehearsal or something since he thought it was funny to pull off kindergarten pranks like this.

Speaking of the devil, when I passed by down the hallway, he was in a pose where his right leg was bended back, leaning against the wall while his left kept his position still. And then I knew. I sensed something downright dirty up his sleeves as he shot me his never-earnest-never-clean-and-always-dirty grimace.

While David went to deal with his mother upstairs, I wanted to warn Chase to fuck off and give me some slack. I stomped up to him with a bad-ass I-am-gonna-hurt-you-if-you-don't-listen-to-me look.

“Do you even have the guts to hit this face?” Chase stated, “I know it’s a better version of my brother’s. And that makes it even harder to deal with the fact you’re gonna love me,” he simpered.

The first part was agreeable but the second was completely impractical.

I made myself be taken seriously with shuddery tone in my voice, “Listen to me, Chase. Nothing happened between us – and what did – it’s between you and me and it’s gonna stay that way.”

Then, Chase pushed me and glued my arms to the wall.

“What if I don’t follow the rules?” he said impishly; his warm breath trickling on my neck.

“If you dare to open your mouth and uncover our little secret, you’ll never see the daylight again.”

“Oh god, I can feel the chills on my spines,” he mocked.

“Can you stop acting like a brat for one second?”

“But I like being naughty . . .” Chase said flirtatiously. He wanted to reach for my lips, but before he got there, my fist arrived first.

“Ow! You didn’t have to hit me that hard!”

“Oh who cares, get over yourself. I can’t name anyone else who deserved a blow more than you. Thanks for all the lies you’ve told today,” I leaped happily around the room.

All of a sudden, he put on this flattering gentleman act and stopped me from leaving, “I didn’t mean to lie to you. It’s just that when I saw you as you lay your feet in the water, and how your hair lingered upon the soft sand –” his eyes were glinting now, “– you just seem so different from the people I know. And I like different.”

I stared and stared and fascinated as I was, Chase and I ruptured out of the scene when we heard footsteps. Immediately, I ran to Dave who I jumped on.

As he kissed my forehead, I turned back to look at Chase’s doleful expression, and wondered . . . how in hell did I end up here?

TEOSB: Five

2009-10-22T10:54:00.014+08:00

The Eyes of Someone Blue: Five
“I’ll look after you.”

DAY THREE: WEDNESDAY

The passion nearly killed me. Please stop. I pleaded in my thoughts, but no one could read me. Me-wanting-to-shove-him-away was impossible. His lips were too forceful on mine, and it took all my strength and focus away to do so.

I pulled away, leaving both of us panting. His warm breath lingered on my skin as my mind tried to snap out of all that just happened. Now, everything went robotic and hesitant. My hands still on his chest, feeling his thunder-like heart beats striking me. Once again, my eyes went on glow mode, releasing tear after tear as he glanced at me.

I need to run. And hide from all of this. It’s a whole big chunk of mess. He watched me flee. It’s an honour to be the first girl who ran away, not towards him.

I call it the great escape.

- - -

I leaned my back onto the room door I locked, putting the confusion aside. While panting, I rest my hand on the heartbeats, feeling them as they beat. So loud. So rapid. Too fast, it was for my system. I’m dying here. Why won’t anyone help me?

Nothing I did would erase it off my mind. So I picked my guitar, and rested it on my lap. Playing a song, no one but me understands, helped sooth my nostalgic mind – well, just a little.

I shut my eyes and let my soul go into closure, I started singing the words I wanted to speak, the feelings I needed to preach.

“Someone like you and all you know and how you speak, countless lovers under cover of the street, you know that I could use somebody, someone like you.”

Please go away, I conjured, but he wouldn’t listen. The vision was set on replay, like an auto-control remote that’s forcing me to watch it, until I languish, I can’t get it out of my head.

“Off in the night while you live it up I'm off to sleep, waging wars to shake the poet and the beat, I hope it's gonna make you notice, it’s gonna make you notice someone like me.”

This feeling was most frightening – I couldn’t even describe it. At least, others fade overtime, but this is like a scar, and scars are forever. So this is what love does to you. Well, I’m sure this isn’t what I wished for.

I think.

- - -

DAY FOUR: THURSDAY

No one bothered to give me a morning call. That was pleasing, actually. Since there was no one to wake me up from sleep, I gave myself an opportunity to slack and relax.

The sun rises, the sun sets, I’m still in bed. Just waiting, and waiting as I go. Although I should be knocking on David’s door by now, I guess it wouldn’t hurt if I don’t. Plans for today: Off bed. Walk several steps towards North. Step backwards. In bed. Tomorrow morning arrives.

Interesting, no? I hope it’s not too short.

Funny how it seems, when you’re busy walking on the grounds of another world, this current place we live in doesn’t move at all. It has to move on without me. No one can shove me in front because everyone knows I’m a slow runner. But nobody knows the reason why I’m always left behind. Either I love portraying a slug, or I choose not to step forward.

Could it be the fear that runs inside of me? Is it the feeling that has been pulling me back so I can’t receive what I deserve? A better life is all I want. Instead, I get what I don’t want – complication, drama, silly feelings, confusion, and everything else that put me on the running of the next Lady Gaga.

Now, my yearnings can’t be fulfilled. Not with David Anderson trying to get in the way. I was so close but he just had to block me. With that kiss. Tell me; in what possible way can he do to snap me out of this depression? Wait, don’t answer that. ‘Cause every one of you will scream the word in my ears.

LOVE!

- - -

DAY SEVEN: SUNDAY

(Original lyrics: Hear me)

I need to gather a crowd,
I need a sun and a cloud,
To rain down a man who would hear me.
I don’t want to know, how much it hurts,
To shout so loud, and not get heard.
My screams of help me, they don’t exist,
I hope no pity lies, in the way you kiss.

When I’m screaming so loud,
And you’re running about,
Why won’t you hear me?
Hear me, hear me out.

Two knocks applied on the door. “Oh shut up, will you? I don’t want any room service!” I yelled at the knock, assuming it was the bell boy.

“Marie,” the voice said. My eyes enlarged.

“Let me in,” David pleaded. And I obeyed because there was something earnest about the way he spoke.

“How long do you plan on avoiding me?” David had an angry tone hiding beneath his charm.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” I said, making no eye contact.

David paced inside, allowing my arms that halted him to break.

“What are you doing here? Eavesdropping on me?” I questioned, acting as normal as possible.

“No, I mean yes, wait . . . no. I just happened to hear you say that you need me,” David muttered, pressing his hands on me, “So I’m listening, Marie. So what do you want me to hear?” His face was an inch away – so close that our noses leaned on each other.

His grip pinned me tightly against the door, and had my back hit on it. I stared at his face as it remained serious. It was as if he was trying to pursue something out of me while I pummeled his chest.

“You can’t escape me. I won’t let you,” his breathing heaved on me.

“Don’t do this,” I repeated myself over and over and over again. But they seem to go into the waste basket. I stopped the pummel when David held my chin. Now, I was forced to face him directly.

“Can you stop pretending as if that night was nothing?” David urged.

“It was,” I hollered and pressed the left part of my face on the door, trying to back away from him.

“Stop lying to yourself!” David shouted, “We both know it, and you know how it feels,” our eyes met now, and it was so difficult for me to retrieve his words since it was too hard to handle, not because it was indistinct, “I’ve thought for days about this. About you. And I’m not gonna ignore it like you did.”

“You’re crazy,” I let out and tried to hold in the bucket of tears that was coming to fall.

Down in a local bar, out on the boulevard,
The sound of an old guitar, is saving you from sinking,
It's a long way down, it's a long way,
Back like you never broke, you tell a dirty joke,
He touches your leg and thinks he's getting close,
For now you let him just this once, just for now,
And just like that - it's over.

Don't turn away,
Dry your eyes, dry your eyes,
Don't be afraid,
Keep it all inside, all inside,
When you fall apart,
Dry your eyes, dry your eyes,
Life is always hard for the belle of the boulevard.

In all your silver rings, and all your silken things,
That song you softly sing - is keeping you from breaking,
It's a long way down, it's a long way,
Back here you never loved, you've shaked the shivers off,
You take a drink to get your courage up,
Can you believe it?
Just this once, just for now, and just like that, it's over

Please hold on, it's alright.
- Belle of the Boulevard, Dashboard Confessional

“You’re afraid, aren’t you? To let someone in your life,” David pushed me again, but this time, he dug deep. I hear it in the background. As if he’s saying the words of a song.

If I don't say this now I will surely break, as I'm leaving the one I want to take, forgive the urgency but hurry up and wait, my heart has started to separate. I’ll look after you.

I had to say it.

“You’re right, I am afraid. I’m afraid to love you. Look what you’ve done to me. I feel so powerless, as if you’re controlling every movement of mine, and now –” the tears interrupted, “I’m afraid that everyone I love will end up hating me, and I can’t bear to lose them, all of them, even you. And I just won’t allow myself to take such big risks, because I know I can’t hold onto you.”

David placed a finger on my lips, hushing me, and brushing them gently. He half-grinned, cupping my face with his hands, while his fingers creased my cheeks.

Everything about him was a solace. And boy, it never felt better.

There now, steady love, so few come and don't go, will you won't you, be the one I always know, when I'm losing my control, the city spins around, you're the only one who knows, you slow it down. I’ll look after you.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” David consoled, growing closer to reach for my lips. And then, he showered me with kisses I fell for. My hands crept behind his neck, raking down his ash brown hair.

- - -

Through the lobby, it looked as if David was performing a chassé step in ballet – leading me out the entrance door. We laughed and ran every five seconds. I didn’t know where we were heading, but as he pulled my hands, I never had so much faith for someone.

Dave guided a way to a beach near the hotel. We hold on tight to each other, breathing love that sinks into air. The wind blew a breeze in the waves, and made it seemed as if our hair were flying like the bristling leaves that swayed above us.

If ever there was a doubt, my love she leans into me, this most assuredly counts, she says most assuredly. I'll look after you.

David faced me with a heartwarming smile.

It's always have and never hold, you've begun to feel like home, what's mine is yours to leave or take, what's mine is yours to make your own.

“I’ll look after you,” he said.

Definitely, my heart melted. Picture it. An ice cream cone stuck on an Egyptian desert ground, beside a hill, it melts for the sun.

Sorrow ends tonight, because this feeling’s winding me up. We lay down onto the soft sand, along with dozens of couples, gazing at the moon above us. Because I believe. Then, nothing can go wrong. Tonight, the stars have witnessed it.

I promised to hope for the better because wrongs are for you to do it right the next time. My wounds may be painful but they'll heal overtime.

- - -

This mesmerizing night was a surreal one. I remember the days when I dream of today, and now, I’m living it. If only I could stop time so we could stay like this forever. Sudden raindrops struck down the ground and stung my eyes. He instructed, “We better leave. I don’t want you getting sick.”

My eyes pleaded at him with sulk.

“What?” David asked, and laughed.

“Nothing,” I shook my head, “I just don’t want tonight to end this quick.”

“Me neither, but –” David replied.

“Tell me, tell me that I’m not dreaming,” I urged him, “Say it.”

“Do you need me to pinch you?” he chuckled at me.

I was looking for the three word answer. And it’s very cliché, often said without knowing its true meaning. So he’s either not prepared or he’s too stupid to realize what I was going for.

“I guess not,” I sighed and pushed myself into the backseat.

- - -

All soaked, we were bundled up in towels.

“Here,” David wrapped me up a shed and rolled his arms around me. His warmth helped my temperature rise up a bit after the chill froze me.

Don’t know why I couldn’t stop apologizing to his parents. Parents were always a fear of mine. That applies to this situation too. Well, his mom. His mother hates me. It’s so obvious even a blind man could see it. David’s father, Damon Anderson was kind enough to spare us thick blankets, but Lily, on the other hand, did nothing but snort.

David dragged me into his room and slammed the door.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked.

“No, I’m mad at her. How can she be so pathetic?”

“She has a reason to be,” I lay on his bed, while he joined me after, “your parents – at least they don’t, you know, interrogate. They didn’t even ask you what happened, or who I am!” I said boisterously.

But David wasn’t too happy about it. And I actually feel guilty because it was as if I was the only person he cared for.

“It’s pitch black outside. Do you mind staying overnight?”

I didn’t want to disappoint, so I agreed.

- - -

Celadon was my favorite shade of green and the color was so pleasing to look at. Unlike mine, turquoise blue shines way too bright for humans to view. But I guess David doesn’t mind it at all.

“My heart’s racing thunderstorms,” I told him. My pulse rate could reach the speed of lightning considering the way he looks at me.

He giggled and fondled my face with much compassion. David pulled me by my waist and closer to his chest.

“How about now?” he smiled.

“Even faster . . .” I expressed.

He shoved himself closer and tilted his head. But I pulled away in time.

“What’s wrong?” David asked.

I replied, “I’m sick and I don’t want you getting a cold too.”

Then, I was pissed that he giggled.

“Do you think I would mind if that happened?”

“Are you sure?” I explained.

“Very sure,” David confirmed.

All night, he kissed me thoroughly. David would caress my lips with his fingers and slowly, replaced them with his lips all over again.

“You’re like the only thing in colour, when everything here is in black and white. That’s how visible you are,” David mentioned. He, not even one second, looked away. I could hear the butterflies growling along with my empty stomach.

“That’s not true, now is it? You’re just being sarcastic.”

“Am I?” David shot a pretty sweet beam.

His arms wrapped me and spared me the warmth I needed. I didn’t feel the frost anymore. I was too busy concentrating on the fact I’m in bed with a man I barely knew. But that didn’t matter. Slowly, listening to the sound of his heartbeats put me off to sleep.

Tonight, I surrender myself to him. Putting him on a level no one can reach, but me.

TEOSB: Four

2009-10-15T12:38:00.023+08:00

The eyes of someone blue: Four
"Taking chances.”

DAY TWO: TUESDAY.

“Oh my god,” I declared in utter disbelief, crumpling up the paper.

“What’s wrong?” David questioned with jejune.

“Everything,” I stepped down from the comfy bed and towards the exit door as he stood up from the chair.

I turned around before he could accompany me, “Don’t even try, Dave. I don’t need any part of you to comfort me. It’ll only get worst,” I cast a livid glare with my finger pointing a don’t-you-dare warning.

David allowed me to fend for myself as he gave no motion to his legs. Finally, someone listened to me. I was grateful for it so I at least showed him my appreciation through an angry Thank you before I left.

I bang the door, trying to relief anger. I gazed at the huge open window at the end of the hallway, and caught sight of plenty of things to do.

As I inhale, I reached the lobby and got hold of Mr. Parkman, my personal driver David hired for me, so that he could bring me somewhere that involves forgetting the shit that has been happening to me lately.

“Yes, miss? Where to?” Mr. Parkman asked.

“Anywhere, as long its not here.”

He sighed and paused for seconds.

“Okay, I got a place, Miss Belle,” Mr. Parkman insisted.

“Great, let’s go then,” I sounded glad.

Mr. Parkman was most lovely compared to the rest. During the car ride, he told me everything about him. Two kids, beautiful wife, amazing career. He does seem a little too happy for a moody psycho like me.

“– if I only could repay back David’s kindness. If it weren’t for him, I guess I would be living on the streets right now,” Mr. Parkman exhibited felicitously, “And there is no joke to that.”

I gasped. “So you’re telling me you used to be a homeless beggar, and now you’re some fancy driver working for the rich guy?”

“Yeah. It’s a miracle, isn’t it?” he answered with a wide grin, “So, how has David helped you? I mean, what brings you here?” Parkman questioned.

“He says he can help me. Everyone believes in him, but I don’t,” I put a bet on it.

“What do you find so hard to believe? Everyone deserves to be happy.”

“I just wish life works out that way. Simple but strong, you know what I mean? But the last time I checked, not everyone gets their fairytale endings like you do,” I responded truthfully.

“Why not? It’s your decision that changes things, not anything else.”

“But everything I do won’t get things into place. I keep making mistakes I can’t undo. Unlike you, people actually have normal, stinky lives.”

“Wrongs are for you to do them right the next time. Anyway, it won’t hurt to try again,” he felt slightly affronted, “But if you think you’re not going to make it, then why are you here? I'm sure there's an inch of hope left inside of you.”

“Hope? Probably not. I have been let down too many times to do that," I add in a sarcastic chuckle, "All my life I’ve been sparing chances for people who think they can prove me wrong. Cause so far, I’ve been so totally spot on.”

“Well, I’m sure David will manifest you soon. You’re gonna losing this game, Miss Belle,” Mr. Parkman smiled with satisfaction to his words.

“It’s Marie. Only idiots call me Miss Belle.” I flashed a wide spread of white, Colgate teeth.

Parkman smiled and nodded.

I valued the stunning overpopulated area around me. The people who rush to work with a plastic cup of latte in their hands, the moms who bind their children’s hands together to get across the street, the flaunty girls who wear shirts as dresses . . .

Everyone seemed to revolve around me. They all had an objective – a reason to live every day. I just wish I have that strive in me, you know? It’s like I’m the one who’s stopping the world from enduring, because I can’t move ahead, tag along, or go with the flow. With my two feet stuck to the ground, no one can help me get out of the black hole I’m sucked into.

“Right, we’re here. You don’t have to send me back to the hotel later. I’ll find my own way home,” I turned left and right, feeling like a needle in a haystack.

I had to act all smarty pants and put others on top of the ladder first, “You would probably need to go home to your family by then. I’ll be really late when I’m done.”

“Um, actually, I do have to drive you. Mr. Anderson wants you back by seven. He’s taking you out to dinner,” Mr. Parkman pointed out.

I sighed bitterly, “Don’t you do anything besides obeying his orders?!”

He shook his head.

“Okay,” I had blood-thirsty sarcasm flowing in my veins. To alter it into a more serious situation, I raised the volume to full, “Just tell Mr. Anderson to fuck off!” I shut the door loudly. My face turned sour when Parkman flinched.

Where am I? I’m in a land with a borderline that keeps me trapped in Anderson-ville.

I want out, and now.

- - -

I walked into every store in the Orange County shopping district. I hope for something that I could buy for Sarah with the fifteen hundred David pocketed in my striped cardigan. Since he doesn’t mind it, I’ll spend it however I wish.

I look so distinct with the dress I wore last night underneath. Good thing I keep a handy pair of scissors wherever I go. Funny how I like carrying sharp objects along with me. Now, it’s cut to my knee’s length. I’m just too smart for this country, am I not?

- - -

Oh, I see something rather fascinating.

“Hi there, here’s fifteen hundred,” I straightforwardly hand over the cash to an armless man leaning on the paths of the street walls. I cast a sinister, generous smile.

“Thank you, Miss,” the man hugged me tightly, squeezing out tears, “God bless you,” his grey hair brushed against my cheeks as he pulled away.

“You too,” I grinned. “I’m sorry I wasn’t sincere but –” I was apologizing for my evil plans I had in mind not too long ago. But he interfered.

“You don’t have to be sorry, my dear. Anyone who spares me fifteen hundred has thought of life in crap and dumpsters. You, my dear, were being considerate, but you’re way too considerate for me to accept this gift,” he rejected the generous offer so I had to find another gift.

I took noticed of his eyes that were resting on the guitar strapped onto my back, “You like music? I just picked it up from Roger’s. They say I can borrow it.”

The elderly man nodded. “Maybe a song or two would make my day,” he beamed.

I shrugged the strap off my shoulders and balanced it on my lap as we crossed our legs on the floor. I strummed a few notes of Minor A which caught the attention of the pedestrians of Wall Street.

I play songs based on how I feel, and Fergie’s ‘Big Girls Don’t Cry’ said it all.

“Da da da da da,” I hummed along with the melody.

“You're probably on your flight back to your home town, I need some shelter of my own protection baby, to be with myself and center, clarity, peace, serenity,” for Sarah.

“The path that I'm walking, I must go alone. I must take the baby steps 'til I'm full grown, full grown. Fairytales don't always have a happy ending, do they? And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay,” this particular verse displayed the conditions I was going through.

As my head tilted up to catch a glimpse of the crowd the song attracted, that was when I saw him in the middle. David had his hands in his pockets, looking calm and cool as always, plastering a half smile on his face.

I know he’s angry. It’s late and I made him miss hours of our dinner date.

My voice went down low when I reached the chorus.

David shut his eyes and breathed in deeply as it came to his turn now, “I hope you know, I hope you know that this has nothing to do with you, it's personal, myself and I, we've got some straightenin' out to do.”

Mother, “And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket, but I've got to get a move on with my life, it's time to be a big girl now, and big girls don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry,” the last strum brought out a slight tear in my eye.

The elderly man started the applause, and the rest followed after. The guitar casing filled of coins and dollar notes enlightened his face, I mean, our faces. Time to meet David’s gaze, and it's very overwhelming.

- -

The walk to Roger’s – should I say awkward? He tried several times to keep up with me because I was walking so fast, it literally seemed like I was racing to cross a line and he wanted to lead. And I wasn’t in a mood to be started a conversation with.

“You didn’t tell me you were musical,” David crossed his arms and leaned his back against the counter.

“You never asked.”

“Anyway, what did you do with the money? You don’t seem to be holding shopping bags anywhere, so I assume you’d rather throw it to a poor man’s bank account,” he piqued his curiosity and caused me to swell in nerves.

“A rich, handsome man like you underestimating the poor. Why am I not surprised? And for a matter of fact, it’s entirely up to me what I should do with the money,” I cash the fifteen hundred over to the cashier, and eyed David when I did, “Keep the change,” I hand over the whole amount and hugged the guitar casing safely.

I cast an ominous grin at him, boasting off my new guitar set.

“You think I’m handsome?” he smiled as he bragged. I can’t believe I said so much – mainly insults, and the only thing he took from me was the praise. I should have known. I finally found someone compatible and more irritating than Sarah.

“Whatever,” I said with a mild blush, “It’s unfair that now you know some truth about me and in return, I have no clue about you other than seeing people worshiping you like a God in this outré world you live in.”

“Want some juicy details? Join me for dinner. I’ll spill everything,” David grinned.

My instincts tell me this isn’t a good idea but for my body’s sake, I have no choice but to share a meal with this lunatic. Can’t blame me for hunger, can you?

- - -

Egg rolls and salad for early dressing. Main course, lamb shank. Dessert, multi-layered gelatin with champagne.

And my stomach rests at empty. Shockingly.

“Why are you not eating? I thought you liked food.”

“Yeah, I like it when you’re not cooking,” David’s forehead crinkled.

Oh, about that. Since it was ten and there weren’t any fancy diners open, he brought me home. His home. And trust me; his house was nothing like how I imagined it to be. He would live in this million-dollar medieval palace of his own. But it was nothing like that. Maybe I should lower my high expectations for the riches.

“Well, sorry if I poisoned you. So, will you take a bite now? I swear, it’s really not that bad,” he pleaded while my fork danced with the sweet slice of gelatin.

“Aren’t you hungry?” David asked again.

“Not really. I'm not in a mood for food,” I dropped the fork on the table and walked away.

“I’ll be going back to the hotel now,” I spoke hesitantly; his eyes scanning me for clues.

I took fast steps to the door, but I couldn’t manage to shake off the hand on my arm.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” David questioned.

“Yes, there is,” I turn around, my face pensive.

“What is it?” he urged.

I muttered, “This isn’t working out for me, David,” I said with my deepest sorry excuse.

He raised an eyebrow, watching me carefully. After that, all I hear was my adrenaline pumping in my veins, “Then what do you want me to do? You don’t like shopping, you don’t like my food, and you don’t enjoy anything I do for you. What do you want from me?”

“Nothing, I want nothing,” I let down a streaming line of tears, because the last chance of me reaching happiness is ruined. I don’t know why this is hurting so badly when I have always seen this coming like I knew it was déjà vu. Maybe hope exists then, but now, I’m positive there’s nothing at all.

“I just want to go home, that’s all,” I whispered.

David's stare was too heavy to meet so I didn’t look into those woeful eyes.

“I know you," saying like he really did know me, "- you don’t want that. You want me to help you, so let me,” both of his hands seized my shoulders with intensity. I was forced to face him.

God, he sounds so believable. I felt like bowing down before my knees to idolize him.

“Why should I? I’m not Parkman, or any of those people you dealt with before. I'm not like the others, Dave. What makes you think you can help me?” I even laughed at the how ludicrous it sounded when I challenged him.

“I have succeeded all of the time. So why should I stop now? Whatever it takes, I know I can do it. I mean, I know you can,” he convinced, "Besides, I'm not afraid of taking chances."

“Then prove it to me,” I repeat myself, “Prove it,” our eyes finally meet.

This feeling, I hate it. I feel like I'm utterly in his control. I thought everything went perfectly well. Until he kissed me. Our lips locked together, inseparable as they were, he released me, from the kiss, the black hole, the depression . . . everything.

He left me feeling all weak and helpless. At least when there’s emptiness, there’s space for something good to fill and flourish in.

David Anderson

Why can't I resist the temptations she sends me? There’s an urge that I fought hard against but perhaps, I was never strong enough to pull myself away from her.

Opportunities don’t just come by snapping your fingers. It comes when you risk yourself in taking chances.

TEOSB: Three

2009-10-09T10:43:00.017+08:00

The eyes of someone blue: Three
"I need protection."

The host smiled and announced, “Please enjoy your stay with Mr. Anderson. Now David, will you show her the way to the limousine?” David let out a huge sigh when the cameras turned off. I was more or less feeling, very, very, suicidal.

"This is preposterous!" I hollered.

“Uh huh,” he agreed. “I’m sorry but you're confusing me here," he raised an eyebrow, "Are you in hyper mode now that I can’t even tell apart whether you’re happy or just immensely depressed?”

“Impossible.”

Did Dad sell me to the show? I ran out the building hopelessly, finding a place to entomb my misery. But the press - the worst of all irritancy - stopped me.

“Marie, how does it feel being the winner of A.C.?”
“Marie, how are you gonna spend your week with Mr. Anderson?”
“Marie, it is possible for you to give an inside scoop on your plans this week?”

“Marie, please let us take a picture of you!” they begged. I protested. How dare they invade my privacy? The reporters zoomed into my face and blinded me with hundreds of flashes. Until David jostled himself as he pulled me along with him.

My heartbeat - I could hear them thudding in my ears loudly. "It's so loud," I said breathlessly with his arms supporting my body weight. He stared at me with a 'huh?' face. He couldn't hear them, so I had to speak louder, "It's so loud!" I repeated. He nodded awkwardly, and had a growling feature in his eyes that scared the reporters away.

Everything around me revolved like a slow-motion movie. He carried me into the limousine, and he urged the driver with much agitation, "Antoine Hospital – quick!" His eyes grew more anxious now. As if he truly cared. His hands in my locks were brushing them while he was comforting me with his 'It's okay's.

And I believed him.

- - -

The light sprung onto my vision. My eyes clicked several more times to get a still picture.

“It’s okay. No one will dare to harm you again,” it was Dad. He hugged me so tight I could barely breathe. The warmth was spreading to my cold, pale skin.

I finally could see now. And there was no David. Only a man full of anxiety, and sorrow. His face wrinkled as I brushed them gently. I made them. His wrinkles were entirely my fault, but I didn't feel guilty, not a single bit.

- - -

"Taxi!" I screamed for the vehicles that swift by me.

"Where are you going?!" Dad locked me down as he paced from behind.

"Home," I folded my arms - holding back the shiver.

"Why don't you just follow me? The car's right there," he advised. It was the worst advice ever. What makes him think I would want follow him?

"I'll take the taxi," I ignored, and quickly dumped my belongings into the taxi car that reached me. "31 West Street, next to Murray High," I demanded strictly, "Move."

I looked at the man holding his brown, leather coat. I got tired of his little frown on his forehead. He tried to help me. But I don't need any help. I just need some protection.

- - -

I unstrapped myself from my sling bag and threw it across the room - dumping myself onto the ground as I saw my telephone blinking.

I played the offline call. It was none other than Sarah.

"Hey, I'm sorry I got you into the show, but you need it, Marie. You will be better this way, I promise," she paused, "I guess I'll see you on Monday with David, your Dad says I should go along with you guys to make sure that you'll come home safe. Bye."

I sighed devastatingly. Some protection. This wasn't what I deserved. I deserved better than better. I guess safety comes with a price, doesn't it?

- - -

DAY ONE: MONDAY.

Morning came as if the rabbit finished the race. I tried to battle time and splinted at the alarm clock repeatedly. I lost. Time won. The sunshine showered through my cozy, violet room; finally leeching total darkness by 7 a.m.

My legs itself felt as if they were one hundred pounds. I barely had enough sleep to hide those glowing eyes of mine. The glowing eyes - those were in exchange of eye bags normal people have. Now, you should understand why I am not categorized under the group “normal”. Normal is just a comfort adjective that some bullshit people pull off to make me feel better. Too bad I’m nothing but a disgrace to them.

I stared into the mirror after I splashed my face to wipe off my morning slur. Falling deep into comatose, I believed there was nothing I could do to make myself look better.

The locks of my dark chocolate hair shaded were as wild as ever. They wouldn’t stay in place after my historic event of zero-hour sleep last night. Well, it became a necessity when I wished not to spend my time with Mr. Anderson. It did sound like a good idea ten hours ago, but seems like my mind wasn’t working well even then.

I’m such a dullard. And only a bore like me would rather stay home and stick their feet to the ground. Unless someone drags me to the door, ropes around my neck, and pulls me all the way to New York to meet David, maybe I’ll reconsider and make life much easier for Dad, and Sarah.

Actually, that’s a lie. I don’t give a damn.

“What in the world are you still doing here? You’re supposed to be in a plane with David right now!” Sarah budged in with added dramatic effect, surprised to see me in still snoozed. She, who looked good in the lavender halter-neck dress, looked at me in disgust.

Sarah shook her head and turned around to make an urgent call.

I shrieked out an intimidated face while I overheard her talking, “Anderson Residence? Can you put the lovely David on the phone, please? It’s an emergency.”

They talked and talked as I waited for her to finish so she could help me get my lazy butt off the bed.

“Great,” Sarah turned around with a wide grin plastered on her face, “He’s sending a private jet over in ten minutes, so I’ll have you ready by then.”

“Great,” I said in displease.

Sarah instructed me to leave my little island. Meanwhile, she readied some scrambled some eggs for breakfast. I managed to shove everything down my throat in five minutes, and the other five was for me to look as ravishing as possible. That was completely quoted by her, if you were wondering.

While I took a one minute shower, Sarah on the other hand, raided my closet and picked out a Brandeis Blue sleeveless blouse with a ruffled ribbon in front, a black denim skirt, and a pair of Jimmy Choo Brandeis Blue ballerina flats to go with it. Then, it was time for the primping.

“My, my. You did a splendid job, Sarah,” Dad patted her right shoulder.

“How does it even look satisfying? I look twice my age!” I argued.

“Don’t you know? Men like older women,” Dad whispered. Mom is in her late forties, while Dad’s not even near forty. That’s all I’m saying. I can spare no more T.H.S stories of men liking older women. It’s creepy.

“Oh, stop complaining already. You don’t look that bad. In fact, you look quite spectacular. You should wear skirts and dresses more often,” Sarah coughed, “Jeans and T’s don’t exactly suit you.”

I thought she was fawning me, but then, it isn’t actually fawning when she just insulted my personal style in which I owned since grade school.

“Since when was I forced to obey the fashion police?” I hissed.

Sarah sneered at me, turning my blood pressure on high as she walked like a prig out the door. Meanwhile, an accelerated fan-like movement was heard from where I was standing. Must be that one and only.

- - -

The perfect sight of Dad without me was easy to picture. Maybe this was meant to be after all – me away from home and off with another man. Can you believe it? I actually agreed to this nonsense. And the reason for it may have something to do forgiving Dad. Certainly, this forgiveness does not involve the feud between mother and him, but the one where he somehow sabotaged a programme to have me win and claim a worthless prize.

The posh family brought in a King Air 200 jet which landed on the front yard seconds later. That sure caught a lot of attention despite my warning of “PLEASE DO NOT BRING IN SOMETHING THAT WOULD GIVE THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD A HEART ATTACK. THANK YOU SO MUCH, MR. ANDERSON,” I added before Sarah ended the call. Didn’t know why I called him by his last name. He sounds less-attractive and older that way.

David was at the pilot’s seat, bidding farewell to the reporters. He can fly a plane? Bullshit. I bet it’s a requirement for exhibitionists. No kidding.

“I am not getting on this jet if he’s flying it,” I moaned while Sarah rattled when she saw how racy the interior was. I know. I sound like a spoiled brat.

“Don’t worry. I got my license last year. I aced it,” David wagged his eyebrows when he was trying to boast off his degree. I snorted.

“Your ace will be futile if you crash this damn jet, sucker,” I spoiled his crowing moment and regretted saying it after. Well, I did owe him an apology and a huge thank you signboard for yesterday. And for the car ride, and the settled medical bills, and the college funds Dad struggled with.

Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have said that. But I do want to enjoy this flight on a King Air 200. I bit my lip, having second thoughts minutes later.

“You don’t want to waste time now, do you? You’ve got to see New York, you’ll gonna love it,” David stretched out a hand and lifted me up to the seat next to him.

“Don’t touch me,” I warned, and shook off his grip on his arm. Fine, I admit it. I’m paranoid around the opposite sex, okay? I don’t like them touching me - not my arm, face, hands, not anywhere. Unless I’m allowed to file molestation reports, then I’m alright.

Sarah pulled my arm and had me bend over to listen to her murmur, “What are you doing? If he wants to touch you, let him. Don’t loose him, okay?!” I shot a series of disgusted looks at her.

“Okay, okay,” he raised his hands and surrendered; “I was just being nice,” David beefed and started steering.

- - -

The view was breathtaking. I could see everything from up here. The sky-high buildings, monuments, storehouses, libraries, museums, houses, schools, everything. I couldn’t help but grin, until David made me lose the optimism.

“I’m sorry to say this but, what on earth are you wearing? You look ridiculous,” he simpered, but he seemed to look serious at the same time, “You too, Sarah.”

Sarah had an ‘ouch’ expression while I shot a menacing glare at her.

“I didn’t pick out these clothes for me,” I muttered, trying to not distract him, “Guess who did.”

David giggled. “Her?” he stuttered a little.

“Excuse me, Mister. These shoes are worth fifty bucks, so don’t judge me,” Sarah attacked from behind, “And as a Utah citizen, these clothes are totally hot.”

“But not for New Yorkers,” he sneered, feeling Sarah’s wrath.

“Okay, is it just me, or are you feeling racism here?” I felt insulted by his discrimination. He can’t do that – not on my watch.

David raised an eyebrow. “What part of racism has got to do with this? We’re all white people – American white people,” he tried to settle it.

“Racist,” Sarah hummed and poised around the lobby.

David shook his head and shot a delightful smile at me, showing his perfect set of white teeth.

“You look tired. You should take a nap first,” he advised, “We’ll be arriving in twelve hours.”

- - -

"Ow!” I bumped my head on the car ceiling, and was distressed to find a large bruise on it.

“Morning, sunshine,” David greeted and simpered. I awake on his left shoulder. How did I end up in his limousine?

I pulled away immediately and swiveled around to scan for the girl with auburn hair.

“Sarah’s taking the taxi,” he said as if he read my mind, and my face changed from expression wary to aghast, “– if you don’t mind.” Can’t he get any more foolish? Of course I mind!

“Why did she leave me here?” I yelled at him, while he blenched.

“Cause there’s not enough space for three people,” David answered truthfully.

“It’s a limousine for God’s sake! LI-MOU-SINE!” I pronounced the word, syllable by syllable in squall manner, “Did you fit in some gorilla family?!” I looked what was behind and saw . . .

“Oh,” I expressed in an awkward tone.

“These boxes contain all kinds of cocktail dresses for the party tonight,” David announced, “I had my assistants collect them from Donatella Versace who happens to be a close family-friend. I was surprised she was willing enough to spare them."

His eyes started complimenting himself, “After all, I did mention they are for two lovely ladies.” David smiled.

I couldn’t resist it. To hate or to love him. I just couldn’t choose one.

“You’re unbelievable,” it was the nicest thing I could’ve said. And if you haven’t noticed yet, it’s a hard task for me to compliment. It’s not my thing, surely.

“Yeah, thanks. I get that a lot. But mostly in a bad way though,” David frowned.

I would have added, “But didn’t I just say that to offend you?” But I guess it’s better off if he thought it was a compliment. He better not piss me off.

“Oh, we’re here,” David – who wasn’t in glamour mode yet, and was still in his casual clothes. But for me, his casual is still very posh – missed the chance to open the door for me.

“I can help myself, you know,” I replied to his thoughtful actions, “It’s not like I don’t have the strength to do it.”

“Well, it’s a gentleman’s tradition to do tasks like this for a pretty young woman. It’s compulsory in our books,” he flattered, and traced my face for an expression which is: expression nothing.

“Whatever,” I took out my baggage from the boot and strode inside the palace-like hotel. Just what I expected. Fancy people, fancy stuff, all put together in this kingdom of little Blackberries, multifunctional iPods, Mac Books, and more.

“Um, I’ll see you later, okay?” David grinned, “And welcome to New York City.”

- - -

“So, which one should I choose? I’m tied between the amethyst and the silky lavender with the indigo strap,” Sarah walked out of the hotel rest room and held up to two pieces in front of me.

“I say this one,” I pulled out a metallic jade evening dress and handed it over, “You make the call,” I said gloomily.

“Oh my god, you just made it worst for me!” she complained, “Anyway, what are you wearing? I can’t believe you’re done!” Sarah was stunned.

“Uh, actually Sarah . . . I’m not going,” I fake-coughed while she shot me a sudden glare. “Look at me! I’m exhausted, I want sleep, and I need a bed.”

“Please. Don’t do this for me, do this for yourself. You know it’s good to have fun once in a while,” she persuaded. I was convinced.

“That’s a good-enough reason,” I said positively. Maybe this would help knock away depressed attitude after all. “I hope you’re right. Anyway, you owe me one,” I stood up from the sofa, “But there’s not enough time, David should be waiting for us in the lobby right now.”

There was a cough tickling my ear.

“I’m here. What is taking you girls so long?” David approached behind me.

How did he get here so fast? I didn’t hear him come in through the door! Apparently, we have been fooled. I'm sure he hoped for a peek of us changing into our dresses. Hah! No such luck. We’re not even dressed yet. His face turned sour when I mouthed the word pervert at him.

“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” David faced me now, while Sarah paced in the other room to fit into the metallic green gown I chose for her.

“Just give me a second.” I gave myself limited time to pick out the least attractive dress out of the humongous pile of designer gowns. “This one,” I grinned at the cerulean blue gown belted with ivory leather ribbon, “I’m sure it will look hideous on me. Just what I need – hideous.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, I thought most girls want to look beautiful at times like this. Or am I not in Earth anymore?” he added before I went into my room to change.

“Well, see? That’s your mistake. I’m not like most girls,” I pointed out while I sped to prim myself up.

“Okay, I’m done,” Sarah accomplished sucking in her stomach to fit in a runway size dress. “How do I look?” she searched for answers from David instead.

He simply beckoned and said, “You look just fine, Sarah, can’t we go now? The party’s –” David paused and stared at me with his glistening green eyes. Sarah turned around and smiled at me.

“I look really stupid, don’t I?” My reassurance was based on the silly faces they pulled at me. For god’s sake, I’m wearing a dress, no – even more, a gown. That must be the reason, right? I was certain that majority will win. But it didn’t.

“Are you kidding me? You look amazing!” Sarah squealed and inserted a lemon chiffon lilac flower pin into my coiffure hair. As surprised as I am, flattery benefits me nothing but flutters in the stomach.

“Yeah . . . amazing . . .” he agreed with a blush.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I quetched.

Got to love the team spirit, right?!

- - -

“Hi there, why do you look so familiar? Have we met before?” a voice startled me. My head shifted up from the view of the Martini glass to a face I was unknown of. Days ago if a stranger walked up to me and said hello, I would have scarpered and gained some paranoia. But from this day forward, nothing will be the same nevermore.

“No, we haven’t. Do you watch Amplified?” I asked with given clue. My fingers crossed for a no though. I didn’t need torture at one in the morning when my head is spinning like a killer roller coaster.

His jaw dropped. “You’re that girl, aren’t you? What are you doing here? Did David take you here?”

“You know what? I am that girl. And if you want a get-to-know-me session, too bad, the shop’s closed. Please do understand by all means necessary that you either stop the interrogating or leave me alone.”

He fled. Such a coward.

- - -

Here I am with my legs fully-stretched on the ceramic-tiled restroom floor and my breath smelling of every kind of alcohol all put together. I have to admit. I’ve grown from miserable valley girl to the pretty fucked up missy.

I tucked my hands in and found my cell phone to dial Mom’s number for the fifty seventh time. I need to hear her voice. A hello, at least, would do me great. The first beep - my heart trembled with excitement, then agitation. The second beep – tears shed on the spur of the moment. The third beep, and . . . nothing.

Everything else after that seemed to vertiginously affect me. Must be the alcohol. Thank God it's finally working. I don't know which one I'm closer to. Sleep, or, permanent sleep.

Can I opt for the second one?

- - -

David Anderson

It’s funny when she’s at peace. She looks so calm and beautiful. It’s almost hard to believe this is the same girl who loves to get out of hand all the time. The taste of freedom can hurt, huh? When she’s awake, she’ll be perfect at tossing up this bad-ass chick. Unlike now, I’ve never seen anyone this alluring.

She’s like a dream in the front of me. A dream I’m afraid to hold because when I do, she might disappear. Her hair was laid carefully to the pillow in which her dark ringlets were sprouting against them. I couldn’t resist running my hand down her pretty locks again and I was pretty tired to actually obey the restraining order.

This all happened before I had found her behind the club banana bar restroom. The guests had all crashed down in hotel rooms when the time struck three in the morning. And I was the loony one who’s half-asleep yelling her name out loud. I pulled the door handle and found Marie at ease on the floor. She leaned her head on her right arm, her face turning red by the effects of an O.D for alcohol consumption, according to what I have examined.

“Put me down . . .” Marie demanded groggily as I balanced her weight on my arms. After that, I guessed she fell asleep again. I watched her all night, and when I look at her, she was struggling and fighting back tears. But her face grew more intense and I couldn’t bear it, so I woke her up.

“Its okay, Marie. It’s just a dream,” I comforted her while she’s at her best trying to talk with her panting and sobbing that grew even louder.

“He took my mother away from me!” Marie said as if she was afraid.

“Who did?” I couldn’t help but ask. Then, I reached out a hand and placed it on the corner of her face. Surprisingly, she let me.

“My father . . . I have to stop him,” Marie explained as if she’s still in her bad dream.

“It’s alright. Don’t worry, I’ll be here all night,” I told her. Now, Marie has snapped out of her awkward state and knocked my hand off her face.

“No you’re not. Sarah is,” she replied, looking at me with suspicion.

“Um . . . about that. Sarah left,” I stammered and prepared for the scream. So I talked before she could, “She left you this note. Sarah told me to this hand over before she left searching for you at the party.”

Her face turned pale, literally.

- - -

Marie Belle

Dear Marie,

How pleased I am to see that you're back safely. You always seem to be killing yourself one night and the next day, you'll be in perfect shape. Like this situation, for an example. See how things work out when I'm not around? So, I shall let it stay that way. David told you that I'm leaving New York, didn't he? He was right. I know I've promised that I'll look after you, but seeing you and David, I have nothing else to do but sit here and wait for your return. You'll be just fine. I know you will. Okay, got to end here. The pen's running short on ink. Insert smiley here. P.S: Don’t worry about home; I’ve got it taken care of.

Love, Sarah Gabriels

My heart skipped a beat or two, maybe three, even.

She denoted her feelings clearly but I did not understand the least of what she meant by ‘Don’t worry about home; I’ve got it taken care of.’ How is she gonna do that? Hire a nanny to clean the mess I made? I hope she’s smarter than that.

I really hope so.

TEOSB: Two

2009-09-16T16:28:00.016+08:00

The eyes of someone blue: Two
"Destiny sucks."

I paused for minutes. Sarah snapped, "What happened? Did I miss anything?" I turned back to look at her, as she peeked above my shoulders.

"Don't bother," I said monotonously. And she stared at me awkwardly as if there was a huge mole on my face.

"Are you sure? You know, I'm right here if you need me," Sarah eased. Doesn't seem like she meant it; after all, the only thing she would talk about for the next few hours is about that stinking show.

And she glanced over to see if I looked interested. No such luck. Interested? Hell no. She turned away and frowned, while I hid a smile.

"Finally," I sighed, "you stopped talking." She shot one of her menacing glares, deepening the blue in her eyes.

Sarah had this creepy, serene charm as she folded her arms. And you don't wanna know how scary she can be, especially at a time like this. She looked like a cat with rabies.

- - -

Dad’s still inside.

Well, locking himself up won’t eliminate me and my grief. I better go check if he remained alive. Fingers crossed on that one. Glass shattering? Nope. Hidden knives in the room? Hell no.

Forget about knocking the door, I decided to test my stealth skills. I tweaked the door slightly, and saw . . . all of it. His back leaned on the wall, and his fingers wiped back and forth of a picture unframed. He picked it out of a chest-like wooden box. A memory box? I didn’t know men, even more, fathers, had these. He blew the dust away, and gazed into it. I tried to zoom in a little, so that I could catch it. His eyes watered, drips of it dribbling down. His sniff was so silent I could barely hear it. Harder, and harder, it was for me to watch.

The picture was of Mom, carrying her baby, in her secure, warm arms. Mom wore a tied up bronzed hair, leaving her curly waves flow at her back. I didn’t even have much hair back then, only inches of russet curls. My eyes, glowing out the picture, bright turquoise blue. Bold, and brassy, they were. Mom had a darker shade of turquoise, twinkling - valor, and believable, full with devotion, as she grinned at her baby.

Thump. I fell in, breaking the tear-drop silence. Oops, clumsy me. I was totally unaware, being forced into the picture made a sudden interpolate. He stifled, widening his eyes, feeling traumatized.

“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to see all of this,” he gathered the memory box that was left open. Dad snatched away the evidence so quickly, so I had to scan the room more. No sobs, no box, no picture, no nothing.

He forced me to do this, not me.

“Stop hiding, Dad. Stop lying to me,” urging him to reveal the unrevealed. I traced the hidden box under his bed, “What’s this? For God’s sake, I deserve to know. For once, please. Am I not your daughter?”

His mouth sealed, even after my long-worthy speech. “I know it wasn't your choice to make the divorce. The papers – you didn’t even sign them!” His face, anxious – worried that his secrets will be spilled.

“Did she elope or something? Did she have an affair? What happened to Mom, huh? ” I repeated, “I said, what happened to her?!”

And I didn’t even notice I raised my hand, ready to set target. Before I could do it, the anaconda barricaded itself. It looked like he was afraid of me. His feet on ground now, drifting past me, out the house, and there it goes again, the door slam.

Everyone hates me, I tell you. They do. Cause it’s clearly impossible to love me. Everything’s possible? Sorry, there's no Kim Possible in me.

Evening crashed and darkness spread the house with solitude. He wasn’t back yet. Half past eight, I quit the wait and prepared dinner. Cooking – not my thing, but, at least a meal of spaghetti wouldn’t hurt. Well, maybe it will. The onions were a pain, and so were tomatoes. Slicing them – or slicing me? I just couldn’t get them right.

Dad was back now as he closed the door gently. He pushed me aside off the kitchen table, and folded up his sleeves. “I’ll do it – you take a rest,” he offered.

Considering the fact the tomatoes are . . . (frankly speaking) partly wrecked, I won’t refuse that offer. I nodded and sat on the dining chair. There were only two left, one for me and the other for Dad.

I assumed he sent the third one to charity. It feels weird, you know, the empty feeling – it’s clouding my mind. It’s been like . . . what? A week since she said hello. To put the cherry on top, Dad’s not sparing me anything. Nothing. Not-a-thing. Not even a single word about her.

What I know: One – they are getting a divorce. But that doesn’t explain Mom’s recent behavior of anti-socializing. Two – they are not getting a divorce. I saw the unsigned papers. Three – why does it feel like she’s already gone? Gone, and by that I mean, absent in this world.

- - -

Dinner was horrible. Mainly because of – never mind. It doesn’t matter. It was the first muted dinner I’ve ever experienced. I twirled the noodles around my fork, over and over again, waiting for him to preach the ‘your-food-is-not-a-toy’ speech. The annoying, unbearable lecture he loves to give – I can’t believe I miss it. I actually do.

Rolling over the bed wasn’t fun anymore with the extra space unfilled. The skies above me were so dark and tense, I had to paint them. The streaks of white, covering the black, and it grew too bright; I had to open my eyes.

Darn, it was the daylight. As I reminisced, I titled yesterday as, 'Marie's Best Birthday'. Sarcasm much?

- - -

What a day. I clap my hands for this wonderful day. The day Marie has to accompany her little ‘best friend forever’ to a stupid show where stupid people go and watch stupid people sing. If you ask me, I'd say that nothing in previous lines were exaggerated.

Is Sarah coming? If she is, either she has to hurtle down here in a turbo jet to reach there on time. Speaking of the devil, there she was, panting. With her hands on her knees, she slid a message, “We . . . have . . . to . . . go . . . now . . .” catching breath in between every word.

Instead of channeling the inner-me and swear vigorously like I usually do, I sighed – it helps me to stay calm. My eyes enlarge as she looked like a swanky prostitute.

“Sarah, what in the world are you wearing?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Clothes,” she argued, “Can we go like, I don't know... now?!” Sarah was boasting off in her little black dress and red pump-toe. That made me look like a pile of shit. My head bowed down to view my clothing. I swear, my T, jeans and rusty sneakers, is crappy.

- - -

The miles of screaming girls had me intimidated. It stretched all the way from Sandy to Murray of Salt Lake City. We tossed ourselves into the front-line and passed the tickets to the guards. Why do they have to get giant-like bodyguards to scare us? Give me a break.

In we go, as Sarah and I got the permit. And Sarah's doing her own thing, swiveling her head - eying every cute guy in the building. So what shall I do? Take a seat, and enjoy the show? Sadly, yes.

Then, a prince charming went on stage. That was when the girls went wild. Like Lion King wild.

- - -

“Who’s that?” I asked childishly.

She drooled, “Don’t pretend you don’t know him.”

From where I was standing at, he wore a tousled shaggy hairstyle, dark chocolate in colour - his fringe perfectly swept to the corner of his right eye.

He was all suited up, in a white buttoned down shirt, overlaid in a formal black vest, increasing the fan-girl screaming volume with his every movement.

Saw you from a distance, saw you from the stage,
Something about the look in your eyes,
Something about your beautiful face.

In a sea of people, there is only you
I never knew what the song was about,
But suddenly now I do.

Trying to reach out to you, touch my hand,
Reach out as far as you can,
Only me, only you, and the band,
Trying to reach out to you, touch my hand.

Can’t let the music stop, can’t let this feeling end,,
Cause if I do it’ll all be over, I’ll never see you again,
Can’t let the music stop, until I touch your hand,
Cause if I do it’ll all be over, I’ll never get the chance again.

I see the sparkle of a million flashlights,
A wonderwall of stars,
But the one that’s shining out so bright is the one right where you are.
David Archuleta's 'Touch My Hand'

It was captivating - and I was too busy being mesmerized by his striking jade green eyes. My heart felt shaky - more likely, embarrassed, to be standing under something so beautiful. It brought buoyant to the audience, yet I felt saddened at the last verse.

He pulled away from the microphone and gave a crooked grin. Sarah was . . . can I say starstruck?

The host popped out of the blue, and poured an unfamiliar question, "Now, who's ready to win the Amplified’s companionship?" I wasn't paying much attention to the lady. My eyes were only drawn to the man beside her.

"Amplified’s companionship? What kind of shit is that?" I asked foolishly.

"Oh, wow. Don't you watch television at all?" Sarah replied.

"No, not at all," I bit my lip.

"Well, it’s something you need to get your life back.”

"Shut it. Like I need a life. I've already got one, and look where I'm standing at - some shitty show."

"Oh, too bad, honey. I've already registered both our names." She rose up to wait for the announcement, tapping her feet impatiently."

“And the winner is . . .” the drum rolls start. There was so much excitement. Sarah had her fingers crossed. I had my middle one ready to show the freaking world what I'm made of, "Ma-", my heart fainting, there could be thousands of Mary-s, Marie-s, Mandy-s, right? It couldn't be me. Hell to the no.

"Marie Belle."

Oh my god.

The spotlight hit me so I had to shield my eyes. Only after five minutes of audible gasps and sighs, there was applause.

“I think I heard wrongly. My ears are never dug!!! I’m sure that I’m sure, there’s gotta be a twin out there somewhere! IT IS NOT ME,” I screamed, as Sarah pushed me further. She was crying of laughter, or maybe she was faking the bitter disappointment that I won instead of her.

I refuse to accept. I tried to escape and wriggle myself free. The camera shot the brilliant struggle while little girls' mouths hung open. The host giggled nervously, "Okay, there seems to be some difficulty here," covering the microphone while she choked on her laugh, "Security," She called out strongly.

Once I was released from Sarah's overpowering strength, I got curbed again, now by brawny security that tied my hands to my back and pushed me forward.

“You planned this, didn’t you? You, Dad, everyone."

Sarah hesitated. “Well, it wasn’t really my idea, mostly your dad. He wanted you to be happy, so please, bear in mind. He’s watching you now. Don’t make a fool out of yourself. I don’t want Mr. Belle to -" she paused for seconds and continued, "- be wretched, like you."

My arms were lifted up from the ground to the stage.

“He’s watching me? Excellent. Let him see how unhappy I am,” I said before I didn’t manage to dodge her amazing slap.

“Can you stop thinking about yourself for one second?” she hauled over the coals, all eyes set on me.

I kept silent. Part of me believed that was true – the selfishness I possess. All thanks to inheritance, I guess.

I walked quietly up the side-staircase. From what I counted, fifteen men, some barely reaching the age of twenty, lined up horizontally across the stage – holding a numbered cupboard from 1 to 15.

"Ah, finally. Back to earth now?" the host taunted.

"Yeah." I nodded, displeased. Folding my arms, waiting for the earthquake – any moment now . . . please. "Now, close your eyes and pick a number from this bowl." WHAT? Now they're asking me to fish for numbers?

Oh great. Number 6. I scanned around the building to check who held the number six cupboard. A guy wearing eyeliner, skull T's, skinny jeans. Oh my god, I'm gonna puke. He just acted out a lick at me. A bulb lit above my head. I lifted up the piece of paper downwards; facing the host. “Number 9, huh? Hmm . . . good choice,” she showed off her pearl white set of teeth.

My eyes closed as footsteps approached me. He beamed, "I'm David Anderson."

Heaven.

TEOSB: One

2009-09-16T16:20:00.037+08:00

The eyes of someone blue: One
"Untangle me."

My life is like a piece of string. So easily, I let it go as it gracefully flows with the wind. It wonders of to nowhere, and I am lost. A stranger once told me to keep moving forward instead of falling behind. I search high and low but my effort went to waste. In the dark, I suffer from fear and pain. The beauty of the moon heals me and lights up a path. I run towards the bright light ahead of me.

And I saw victory.

That pretty much sums up everything. How days of life were similar to a walk in a burning fire pit. Until today, I discovered that the odds of our encounter were little, but it was enough to keep me happy.

Welcome to my life, this is my story.

- - -

Good morning, Mrs Green.

This is my college application letter to act as a reply slip to the school's form. I would like to inform you that I have enclosed it with my results list of the final test I sat for. Mind taking a good look at it and notify me if my acceptance to Dixie State College is agreeable.

Referring to the form, the school has questioned why I chose this school. First of all, D.S.C deserves well-mannered, extroverted and dedicated students to bring up its good name, and I for one, will not disappoint. So, by entering Dixie State College, I hope to find a character to play so I can achieve more success.

My life is like a light of shining armor which desperately seeks for an educational village to further my interests in. I promise you, there wouldn't be a time of remorse if I was selected to join the school ground.

Thank you.

Yours truly,
Marie Belle.

I stopped typing out the lines of lies derived from my not-so huge brain. Well-mannered, extroverted and dedicated? I'm describing God's profile, aren't I? May Mrs Green be the chump to fall for it. My life is like a light of shining armor? I couldn't help it. My thunderous laugh was earthshaking. Believe me, it's the falsity that makes it so darn funny.

I really hope she won't detect any insincerity in those attractive words. I only use them to distract her from reasoning my results list. They're not as horrid as you think, you know. Although it's obvious that I won't be talking this nicely if I scored aces, why not give flattery a try? It could boost my life status up.

Okay, listen up. My life is more or less similar to a hangover. Well, ain't that a bitch. Imagine a clock. It ticks and ticks and ticks until the battery life's span wears off. But mine's the total opposite. Now, picture an alarm clock and how blatant the rings can get. It's one hell of a torture den, if you ask me. Put yourself in my shoes, and you'll see. Okay, enough talk. I've gotta go.

- - -

What am I doing here? I thought, refusing to believe that I agreed to come to a party. Fact says Marie Belle doesn't do parties. And the facts never lie, but this is an exceptional case. This party involves Sarah Gabriels, my on again and off again best friend forever (Last week, Sarah demanded me to swear on my mother's grave that we will be together always. That sounds awful and ridiculously absurd. Well, what can I do? I made a solemn promise I can't break!)

What I'm trying to say here is, Sarah is similar to a banana peel - always sticking next to you no matter rain or shine. And this sucks because I am the flesh of the fruit. This is bad news. Why? I'm the one being devoured. And by devoured, I mean, tortured. At least the peel gets to be thrown away and not get chewed.

Forget about bananas and their peels. You must agree that people can change. But she doesn't belong to the category of people, because she is not likely to fall under a place where there is peace and shimmers of light. I wouldn't even be surprised if she ends up working for the Devil himself. I may sound monstrous to you, but trust me, her dark side will appear soon.

Enough about Sarah. I rambled around the balloons and slacked beside the coco machine. You must be wondering . . . coco machine? I parroted to myself. Yes, the large fountain-like creature which spurts out instant coco on top of your hot vanilla. Sounds delicious, huh? Well, too bad, this kind of stuff doesn’t exist in my world where allergies are born to kill.

Time is of the essence, so, let's not waste anymore of it. Dad said I should meet up with my friends since our last trimester is arriving. But the thing is, I don't have any friends. Well, that's not entirely true. I have Sarah... but she doesn't count. I dug in for my keys and drove off in my new car. And the new car happens to be a decade year old which had grimy tires in abysmal condition.

Go figure. Ah, the sarcasm - not everyone sees the beauty of it like I do.

- - -

Hey, nothing bad has happened yet. This is when I go, "Think again." Since two thirds of my life were . . . miserable. Do you think I should wait till that moment comes so I won’t have to bury myself in disappointment if it actually happened? This is among my famous catch phrases, “Why am I still on earth when I could be flying along with Jesus right now?” If suicide wasn’t a sin, I would have threw myself out the window a long time ago. But it is, so I’m just gonna wait till my battery runs out.

This is why.

“I hate you!” I barked fiercely and smashed the glass of water. Dad got hurt too, and I was happy he did. “I fucking hate you!” I repeated, but slightly more vigorous.

I scampered upstairs loudly, and slammed the door with my face all messed up with tear-washed mascara. While leaning my stiff back onto the door, I squeezed my hand tightly to lessen the pain from the shattered glass.

Biting my lip because it hurts inside and out badly, doesn’t solve the heart ache, my head swirl, and the burn on my hands, because what I feel inside was incurable.

Just five minutes ago, he acted all awkward and stiff when he told me to sit down. Dad said calmly and inhaled deeply, “Marie, we need to talk. It’s about . . . your mother.” His eyes were watery as he spoke the words which he tried hard not to choke on.

Mom hasn’t been around lately. She probably grew tired facing Dad’s overprotective boundaries. Even when I was at a younger age, I had to hurdle over a couch and close my ears to block those sound waves of evil, which were, of course – the violent arguments they had.

I didn’t like that at all. In fact, they had to drag me to the psychiatrist, Dr. Hawkins one day because I was somewhat unusual.

They thought I was crazy. I thought I was crazy. What five year old kid doesn’t talk, eat, and think about rainbows? Well, there’s just one. I knew I wasn’t happy. I knew I wasn’t any ordinary kid who bounces around and begs for candy. I sit when I’m told to, I talk when I want to, I laugh when I’m forced to; maybe I am crazy.

Dad pursed his lips and held his hands together tightly. He was so nervous I could feel mine trembling too. I splinted at my watch. It was half past 7. Not good. Sarah would slash me if I made her miss this movie she's been dying to watch.

“Spit it out, Dad. I can’t wait any longer, Sarah’s waiting.” Tap, tap, tap – getting frustrated with his agitation.

“She’s not coming back,” he frowned. His eyes droopy and full of sadness.

“What did you just say?” I wheezed.

“Mom isn’t going to come back,” Dad restated, with a louder tune this time. He was angry, and his eyes grew more fiery.

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked again, making sure I heard correctly. And I did. The whole thing was entirely overwhelming, and my heartache forced me to smash the glass of water in my hands.

Though repeating ‘it’s a lie, it’s a lie’ in my head made me feel better, I was just fooling myself. Mom isn’t going to come back.

MOM ISN’T GOING TO COME BACK, DAMMIT. SHE HATES ME. SHE HATES THIS FAMILY. AND SHE WOULD WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH ME, BECAUSE I’M NOTHING BUT A SAD, LIFELESS HUMAN BEING. I battled my own stubborn, mendacious mind.

I screamed the ugly truth in my head. While my hands grip onto my lap, blood emerged out of the wound in which my fingernails punctured. That was simply satisfying – the pain, I mean. Well, if you just figured out I’m a masochist, you’re an idiot.

His eyes shut tight as he wrangled, “Your mother and I had talked. I’m sorry things didn’t work out. We just can’t see each other anymore. Time won’t solve anything, so your mom thought it would be best if we lived in separate places,” Dad tried to meet my eyes, but the tears that flushed my face troubled them.

“I’m so sorry, dear. And no part of this divorce was ever your fault.” It seemed so easy for him to say it, as if he’s been rehearsing all day long - just to tell me that he was sorry.

“Sorry? How could you be sorry? Have you even thought about me – how I would feel?” I brawled, “Oh, don’t worry Dad. I know it isn’t my fault. It’s yours. I’m surprised Mom didn’t leave years ago. She’s one tough lady. So might as well you drop the selfish act, and go destroy yourself. Just don’t include me in it.”

Dad deserved every word. At least I made him shut up at the end of it. He was no excuse - he made pain hurt so bad, not even Superman can fight it.

- - -

Present time, fifteen minutes past eight. I felt like screaming. So I did. Besides trashing my clothes all over, I paced over to the shelves for book-slaying. Throwing my lamp to the concrete walls caused my hand to hurt even more as the cuts got deeper. But it wasn’t enough; I wanted pain, more pain, so that it would hurt more on the outside.

Everyone knows I’m a fixer, but there’s one thing I cannot fix: me, and that tends to make me think that if I make everyone happy and I would be too. But it's not that easy. Everyone could try and love me, but sooner or later, one after another, they would simply give it all up. Why? 'Cause it's simply impossible to do so.

After there was nothing left to harm in my room, I shut my eyes and reopened them. Therefore I reached the point where I wasn’t afraid of dying. Before I could carry my legs out the bedside window, arms grabbed me. Who knew such a timid man had the grip of an anaconda.

“Stop, Marie, I said STOP!” he yelled over and over again to make sure he was heard loud and clear - to make sure I stopped punching him, but that didn’t do me any good either, so why bother.

“Let me go, please . . . let me go.” I felt useless. I felt there was no reason for me to live. I felt there was no one out there who would tell me what love is. I knelt and hugged my knees as I lay myself on the cold wooden floor helplessly.

Dad helped me across the room and onto my bed. He kept on caressing my cheeks and shushing me gently like he used to when it was his shift to make me fall asleep.

When I was a minor . . .

Dr. Charles told me I had insomnia. “Ah, open wide,” he looked dumb. After another round of inspection, he smiled, “Ah, I see, there’s nothing to worry about, Madam, Sir. Looks like your daughter has a minor case of insomnia.” Well, he was clearly wrong. I lied that I couldn’t sleep at night because of the monsters lurking around the house.

I remember Dad staying awake all night with the torchlight in his arms after I made him check every closet in the house. Mom would massage his back and whisper how much she loved him in his ear. And he would laugh when it tickles; flashing the wide grin she loves. Then, she would flow gracefully to my bed and kiss my forehead. She would say my name, “Marie,” as if I was the most precious thing in the world.

But the colour of the dream, the streaks of the stars and the glorious moon I glance from my window - they fade to nothing but sheer darkness. I ended up partners with the dark, alone, shivering, unwanted, and unloved. Wasn’t scary, wasn’t dreadful, it was so much worst than that.

- - -

Sunshine showered through the curtains in the early rise when it smelt of fresh vivid lilies, and bird poop. Yes, after being mesmerized by the morning mists and dewdrops, I was disgusted by the bird poop dripping down my glass window. Shit! I didn’t say that out loud, because Dad was enjoying his snooze; my arms around him like a teddy bear.

His eyes opened dozily as I accidentally gave a slight shake in my hands. My eyes widen when I spot my sore hands perfectly wrapped in first-aid bandages. Dad must have done that while I was crying to sleep. I couldn’t remember much, after waking up with a headache. Fault goes to my overdosed mind.

And then, school's another trouble – I was merely okay at everything. Not good, neither bad. It’s the way I like things to be. I didn’t want to stand out, because I knew I wouldn’t last a day with popularity. I didn’t want to be clever, because I don’t want to drown in books all my life. I didn’t need romance, because all I needed was Dad’s I love yous.

So, now you know why I adopted a lethargic life – so that I can quell my dolor to rest.

That brings my head back to Sarah. I don’t even know where to start. I have no clue why she hangs out with me, why she wants me to be happy. And the only reason why Dad thinks Sarah has potential of being my best friend forever is because she declared herself as Mr. Belle’s minion. She obeyed all his orders, and never once rejected them. Unlike me, Sarah makes a way better daughter for Mr. Belle.

She’s bubbly to the extreme, always in the mood of having her auburn hair resting on her shoulders. She’s paired with sparkling brown eyes, and an eye candy smile to go with it.

- - -

There was an angry knock my door. She stormed downtown so quickly and into my house, she bashed and I had to sit there and listen to her how-dare-you-leave-my-party-without-my-consent. And another series of why-didn't-you-accompany-me-to-our-movie-date. “I said I was sorry, Sarah. I had to deal with something,” I tried to make it seem real.

Dad was brewing coffee in the kitchen and I knew he was listening to every word she said. He pretended to cough. It was such a fake, no one bothered to look at him for it.

“Come on girls, stop fighting,” he soothed.

“Okay, fine. Just promise me no boys are included,” she gave a half-smile.

That was fast. Well, that’s Sarah to begin with. She’s too positive to hold hatred.

“I promise. Absolutely no boys.”

“Wait, I have to take that back. Because . . .” she smiled blissfully, and started bouncing. I waited for her to finish the sentence, fearing of what she might say and she continued, “– I have two tickets to Amplified!”

“So, am I forgiven then?” I asked childishly. Ignoring the fact Amplified is currently is highest rated show on television, where the contestants are to flaunt their vocal abilities. Did I mention there are lots of gorgeous guys toddling around the place? She might have arranged the seats so that she can sit with one. Oh, you know Sarah. How desperate she can be to get the things she want.

“Yes, silly. Do you even know what day it is today?” she urged me to think, but I had no idea whatsoever. I kept thinking . . . Friendship day, maybe? Our friendship anniversary? I closed my eyes and tried to think very hard. “Uh . . .” two minutes of thought and nothing.

I reopened them and she was gone.

There were only colours - lots of them. A bright yellow clouted my face. It was cake - cheese cake, all over me. I guess someone thought it was brilliant idea to smash cake on my face because it was my damn birthday. And who’s that someone? C’mon, it’s not hard to guess at all.

I had my fingers smearing it off and having them licked. It tasted good. Once my face was finger-washed, a five meter stretch of a banner was stretched towards me, reading out in big bold letters.

‘Marie Belle was gifted to Charles and Clara Belle on 28th December. Life was born for her to live it, win it, and love it. Happy birthday! From Dad.'

They expected a tear, or a laugh, and a smile. Instead, I stood there feeling entwined. It was pleasing yet there was guilt to surpass. They looked depressed, I look depressed. I didn’t know how to respond. All I needed was someone to untangle me.

I was speechless when I read the note below it, and it was of Mom's.

‘With so much more love not written, not given, I need you to know that I love you, forever, in the depths of memories and hopes, there lies you and me. From your mother. I'm sorry, dear.’

More buckets of tears. Here comes the highest rainfall of the year.

But I didn’t want to make that record. Mom wouldn’t want me to. Dad and Sarah would be torn. Here it goes again; a time where I’d rather please every else but me. I said in a higher tune of a ‘Thank you’ but I was sure Dad heard the cry in my voice. He frowned, while Sarah gave me an instant squeeze. “Really, thank you, for everything.”

He put down his cup of coffee and the banner in his left hand. I knew I ruined it - all of it. Dad walked emotionless to his room and closed the door softly. I didn’t want to go in, because I wasn’t strong enough to deal with anything when all I could think of was Mom.

I felt so entangled, as if my body was stuck to the ground with super glue. I just stood there, staring at the door he closed at me . . .