Chapter Eight/ illicit affairs always die one way or another
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Real Life —— 6:42pm, April 9, 2022
Sylvia Greece had always learned to mask what she felt. Pushing it down so far into her heart it expands to twice the size. She'd learned to do it from her mother, watching as her mother would cry in the darkness of her room. Not thinking her nine year old daughter was watching, crying with her, wanting. Wishing to help, but not knowing how.
The brunette had never knew how to deal with others emotions. Let alone hers, how to comfort someone who needs a hug. When Sylvia can't even except a hug when given. The amount of times Sylvia would say 'I'm fine!' with a smile as big as the sun would probably be a world record.
And at this moment she'd been watching the rainy sky. The droplets racing each other to the finish lines, just to become one when at the bottom. Jeff Buckleys Lilac Wine playing in the background, one of her favorite song since she was a little girl. The sound of Jeff Buckleys voice has always calmed her mind when it was cluttered —Which it almost always was.
Sylvia's mind was currently a battle between feeling bad for yelling at Gene, or being happy she finally did it. She felt bad for not communicating better, but it was a sort of 'heat in the moment' sort of thing. Like she was finally was releasing a breath she'd held in all her life. And it felt nice, saying what she felt rather than pull it down into her heart.
And the girl sort of wished that boy she loved so dearly would Nick on her white door and hug her. Hug her so hard they both became statues stuck together in time, put into a museum showing their love for one another.
A nock on Sylvia's door blew her from her thoughts, it was almost as if her wishes had been granted by the gods. But, it was most likely a coincidence.
Her Hello Kitty socks patted on the dark hard wood floor as the brunette walked to the door, wiping her eyes from the sadness. Crying in front of people was definitely not her thing.
The door swung open revealing a sullen boy standing before her, flowers in hand, "what are you doing here?" She asked quietly looking into his eyes.
"I wanted to talk to you, Sylvie."
Opening the door wide enough for him to step through she sighed, "come on. I have to talk to you also."
The two sat on the couch, Sylvia draped a pillow of her stomach. She always had an instinct to do so when sitting, like she wanted to his herself from anyone that had to see her.
