By: Sara Carrascal, 11º
Ok. It’s time.
I jump out of bed and grab my sparkly, red converse, my backpack full of books, my wallet, clothes, and other essential things. I put my hair into a high ponytail and grab the leather jacket Sabana gave me for my 18th birthday a couple of weeks back.
Carefully, I get out of my window and slowly climb down to reach the ground. Finally, in the ground, I take a moment to put on my shoes and tie the backpack to my back. I borrow another minute to look up to the house that has been my home for the past years. For a moment I feel ready to drop all of this and get back to bed, but I can’t stay anymore, not when the rules have changed. Not when my family is in danger for something they have nothing to do with.
Feeling my lungs with all the air I can catch, I turn to the road. Just as I give my first step to the wide, open spaces, I’m stopped by a tall and slender figure.
“Tom?” My heart jumped at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s what I would like to ask you.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, causing his muscles to tense and makes them visible through the fabric of his shirt.
I stand straight, lean back a little and cross my arms to imitate his posture. “What do you mean? This is my house,” I snort and roll my eyes. His eyes examine me for a moment. I feared this would happen. If there was anyone in the world to know I’m up to something, that would be Tom.
“And you get out of it through your window? In the middle of the night? With your backpack?” His eyes sparkled. He knew he had caught me and was enjoying every part of this. His eyes shone with the eagerness of hearing what lame explanation I was about to give him.
I let my arms down and started fidgeting with the sleeve of the jacket. My eyes fell to my shoes as I prepared myself to activate the bomb. “Would you believe me if I told you I’m planning your surprise birthday party?”
I dared look up at him. His expression remained serious, however, those honey eyes continued to be full of mischief. His lack of words gave me a couple of valuable seconds to plan the way I was going to break it to him. But, every way that I thought of saying it sounded cruel. It didn’t sound true. I didn’t want to confess it to either of us.
Frustration got the worst out of me and filled my eyes with boiling tears. I hate this. I hate crying. And most of all, I hate that people see me cry. I cover my eyes with my hands and start sobbing. While trying to build dams for the rivers, I felt his powerful arms bring me close to him. I buried my face on his chest as he caressed my hair and let me be a wrecked mess.
Suddenly, I feel tired, but not tired for crying, but tired of the mystery. And then, a rush of power runs through me. “I can’t stay here. I can’t tell you why, but I need you to tell anyone that asks that you haven’t seen me and that you know nothing about why I left.” I blurt out. I force myself to take my face out of his chest and look at his eyes. The sun that had been there moments before, was now hiding behind opaque clouds.
“I need you to not dig into this. Don’t contact me. Don’t look for me. Please don’t ask questions and just trust me when I tell you I have no other solution right now. Know that I am sorry and-” My rambling was stopped by the sudden brush of his lips.
I gave into the kiss and felt the butterflies flapping their wings in my belly. I couldn’t help but think of how much harder this had turned. This realization made my tears to run down again, faster. He took my face in his hands and wiped the tears away. Just like me, he didn't want to let me go.
After a few seconds of passionate kissing, we separated from each other, not much, but enough to look into his eyes again. I caressed his right cheek and saw how his honey eyes turned a dark shade of orange as they fought with everything they got to keep the tears from coming.
With a soft smile, I gave him one more delicate kiss and started running.
Everything told me to stop, but I forced myself to keep running until I was so far away from that house my legs ached. The tears never stopped running with me, neither did the feeling of remorse. The only thing I want is-