Nine Ways How

Chapter 44| the precious tear

E L A R A

Neville tries to push the door and then knocks on it loudly, "Elara open the door, please. Don't tell me you're drinking, I told you it's harmful for you" he says.

I don't say anything back and take another sip of the drink.

"Your body can't stand it, Ela, open the door and let me in!" he raises his voice, beating the door crazily, "Why do you always have to be so careless?!"

I sit against the door and finish off the remaining liquor in the bottle in one go. My body feels like somebody has put it on fire.

"Why you're doing this?!" he shouts, beating the door with his hand once more.

Tears begin to form inside my eyes abruptly, he's shouting at me. I want him to shout more, all the time he must have caged his anger inside him too.

I hear a long sigh from there, "What happened? Talk to me" he says in a low and calming tone, making me realize he has bent down to hear me in front of the door too.

"I'm... it's like I'm losing it. It feels like torture-- every time I try to look around me, everything reminds me of my past. Everybody seems to be hurt because of me. Everybody hates me, and if I try telling the remaining ones about myself, they are going to hate me too-" I choke into tears.

I sniff, trying to get my voice back as it's becoming harder for me to talk, "How can I continue like this? When I know nobody wants to hold me in their life"

A huge part of me makes me believe I will only hurt the people I come across.

I bury my face in my hands, a great agony attacks my insides.

"Ela..." Neville's voice comes out as barely a whisper, "It's not like that, I'm here to hold you. But... if you're going to be like this, how I'm going to help you? I can't hold you when you're ready to let go, right?"

"You don't understand" I breathe, my lips trembling as I taste my tears, "Nobody wants me in their life"

"I want," he says.

"Then you're dumb" I whimper.

Tears begin to fall through my eyes just like the rain outside. My body hurts, but I need it. I need to feel like I'm getting punished. Maybe this pain will become my slow poison until my body and soul get separated. Death is so much easier than living this life. When every other person you meet is your victim.

I look at Waylon seating in front with his back against the wall. He looks terrible, he's messed up, and the tears in his eyes reflect pain. Extreme pain. His eyes never meet mine, like it's showing me how his life has been all that time.

"I'm hurt" he cries out, and his voice breaks. I shake my head desperately.

Waylon holds his head tightly with both of his hands while crying loudly, his voice echoes in the room which makes me shudder.

"No! Please, not again! I was getting better!" he yells.

"I'm tired. Mom, I'm hurt" his voice becomes lower as he lies down on the floor, letting his tears fall on it. I once again shake my head in disbelief.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I did.

"Ela--" Neville tries to say something but my mind refuses to hear anything.

All I see in front of me is Waylon. His heart, crushed into tiny, tiny, little pieces by me. I see his broken pieces shattered in front of me.

I run my hand through my hair and fist them tightly, "I hate myself" I mumble.