Echoes Of The Heart

Chapter Twenty-eight

Stephlon made her way through the bathroom, making sure each of the stalls were empty. When she was certain she was alone, she approached the mirror and gazed at her reflection. Her eyes were swollen and puffy from crying, and mascara had smeared down her cheeks, giving her the appearance of a horror movie ghost.

Stephlon stood frozen in front of the mirror, studying the reflection that stared back at her. It was almost like she couldn't recognize the person looking back at her, her eyes hollow and her face blank. After a moment, she regained her sense and turned on the tip, the water gushing over her hands. As it flower into the white sink, the black mascara and eyeliner running off her face like inky tendrils of sorrow, marring the pristine surface.

With her makeup cleaned off, Stephlon wiped her face dry with the paper towel, taking care to get every last but of smudged mascara. Though her skin now looked clean and glowing, her eyes betrayed her true pained, while her lips were set in a forced smile that did not reach her eyes. She carried herself with an air of sadness, like a rain cloud hovering above her head, despite her best efforts to conceal her distress.

"Hello," Walter said, his voice jovial. Stephlon jumped at the sound, her hand still clutching the bathroom doorknob. She looked up to see Walter standing there with a smile on his face, and she returned the smile - though hers was more forced than his. She carefully closed the door behind her, her hands shaking slightly.

Stephlon held on to her notepad tightly, as if it was the only thing keeping her upright. She tried to exude an air of normalcy, not wanting to have to answer any probing questions. Inside, all she wanted was to be alone, to escape the world and respite from her inner turmoil. But there was no way she could do that now - she had work to do, and people who needed her. She was trapped, exhausted and overwhelmed.

"Are you alright?" Walter asked, his gaze shifting from her eyes to her chin, his gaze pausing to study every detail of her face. He looked down at her body, checking for any visible injuries, before raising his eyes back to her face. But he was caught off guard by the steely glare she fixed him with, the anger and annoyance evident in her eyes. He tried to smile at her, hoping to break the tension between them. But the smile felt hollow and awkward, like a feeble attempt at easing the situation.

"I'm fine," Stephlon snapped, her voice harsh. "And stop staring at me like that." She took a few steps away from him, only to hear his footsteps following close behind. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to calm her anger. But it was no use - she just wanted to be left alone. The thought of shouting at him and running away flashed through her mind, but she quickly pushed it aside. She didn't want to cause a scene, but she was at her breaking point.

"I just wanted to make sure you're alright," Walter said, his eyes pleading with her to understand. His mind was racing, trying to figure out why she was so upset. Maybe she was having a bad day, or maybe she something was bothering her. He wanted to ask her, but he didn't want to rush making her even note upset. He just wanted her to know that he cared about her and that he was here for her, no matter what.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine," Stephlon said, turning to face him, her eyes boring into his. "I just need some space okay?" she let out a deep sigh, then turned and she started walking away, her hair swinging in rhythm with her steps. Her shoulders were pulled back, and her strides were purposeful, but there was a hollowness to her eyes that bellied the confidence in her movements. She looked tired, like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Walter stood rooted to the spot as Stephlon disappeared around the corner, his eyes fixed on the empty space she had left behind. He was lost in thought, trying to make sense of what had just happened. A moment later, he slammed his fist into the wall in frustration. He let out a sharp cry as he realized his mistake - his hand was bleeding, his knuckle bruised and swollen. He cradled his injured hand, his mind racing with worry.

He turned to leave, taking the opposite direction from where Stephlon had gone. As he lifted his head, he met the cold, calculating gaze of a man standing a few feet away. The man's eyes were a steely grey, and they seemed to pierce right through him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his body language was coiled with tension, like a predator ready to strike.

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