Misplaced Trust

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Her hair flows right to left as the gentle breeze caresses our faces. The park today is quiet and still; the dogs are not yapping in frenzy, the ducklings are not waddling in our feet begging for breadcrumbs, children's' laughter is non-existent. The only hint of life is the little squirrel that has a firm grip on an acorn, its rectangular teeth piercing through the nut as if there is no tomorrow.

"So, what's the rush?" Ava asks as her lips smack together once in a while and once her lips are slightly apart her green chewing gum is flaunting.

"I wanted to talk to you- see how you are." I reply while tugging at the sleeve of my sweater. I can feel droplets of perspiration run down the side of my neck, but I need to focus.

"I'm great." She replies nonchalantly but I can tell there's more by the way she combs her curly brown hair with her fingers while her eyes look down at the grass, avoiding any sort of contact.

"I know your not." I say sympathetically and place my hand on her shoulder. I can't help but notice, with just a simple touch, her eyes swell up and shine. Innocent tears creep out of her tear ducts and flow delicately down her cheek, all the way to the corners of her lips. The wet path her tears leave behind is reason enough for me to use my fingers to wipe away her unhappiness. If only it was as easy as that.

Baby girl, are you sad?

Cry. Leave the wet trails from the pearl-like tears and I'll handle it. With just a simple wipe: just some cotton, just a tissue, just the back of my hand or fingers- with one wipe I can take away the pain, I can take all the hurt that is infested inside of you. I can be here for you; I can take the hurt away. Just like I can erase your tears. I can erase the pain within. But that's not life is it? The tears might be gone from eyesight, but they will always be there, invisible to the eye.

The real hurt is when there are no tears; no sign of hurt- that's when its real, that's when you drown in the pain without warning. You can't see the burdening water that overflows; you can't see that you are so close to drowning. Perhaps you know how to swim in your ocean of tears, maybe you've mastered the art of swimming, but these tears aren't just tears. Those disguised tears are like a forceful waterfall, while lightning strikes, sending huge waves into commotion. Monstrous, foaming waves that without warning slap your heart. Waves that seep in your broken heart, making it suffocate, sending you to the pain you just can't explain.

"Logan- well, I saw messages on his phone-" She stutters, pausing after every word, struggling to finish her sentence in one go. The usually confident Ava I know vanishing right in front of me. Her bottom lip quivers while her eyes look up at the sky as if pleading the Sun to evaporate her hidden tears. "I think he's cheating on me." She finally blurts in one go, as if she is in a race with her emotional state.

"Bastard." I can feel rage whirling inside of me like a deadly hurricane. How dare he? How dare he even think about cheating! I take a deep breath in, absorbing in the fresh air that surrounds me in attempt to calm my tense nerves. And finally, once I find myself in a tranquil state of mind, I manage to ask "What messages?"

"He messaged this girl saying: I can't wait to see you baby girl, I can't wait to feel your skin underneath my fingertips-" She starts to recite with a trembling voice while her nose scrunches up causing skin to fold between her eyes. I can hear her exhaling deeply, as if her lungs are not cooperating, as if they are failing to take the oxygen she requires to survive. Then, she inhales for what seems like forever, as if she is fighting for air, as if she is determined to fight. But when she finally exhales once again, after her infinite inhale, it feels like she has finally raised her hands up in surrender. Surrendering her fragile heart to the man behind the gun, the man that is in charge of the emotionless bullet that will shatter her heart into millions of broken pieces. Logan. He holds the metaphorical bullet and I hope he takes the right path by throwing the weapon into the ocean, deep down, in the depths of the ocean to be demolished and never seen again. I hope he makes the right choice, I hope he chooses to love her and make her feel special.

"Talk to him." I explain and rub my thumb back and forth on her shoulder, hoping that my touch can somehow comfort this pain that is eating away inside of her. "Talk to him, confront him. Ask for explanations."

"I love you." She whispers timidly, "I don't know what I'd do without you." Her voice soft and fragile, her shattered eyes lock on mine and her sad lips curl into a hopeful smile.

"I love you too."