Don't Judge A Flower By Its Color

Chapter Ten 🌼

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

The mansion door cried in ache as the hits against it's frame grew harder. Hopefully, somebody answered soon. The abundance of emotions were catching up. It felt like they had taken control.

His memory was becoming too difficult to handle.

All those special moments we spent together, they played on a continuous repeat. Everything in my vision seemed to be pieces of him.

The bright sun in mid sky brought back the times he ran around the orphanage's yard with the other boys, fighting dragons.

My younger self always sat on the cement steps watching while the other girls listened to our teacher read stories about some useless princess. They wanted to wait for the boys to rescue them. I wanted to be out there with him.

Maybe that's why he always kept a cautious eye on me. I tended to waddle after him a lot and put myself in dangers way. Warnings back then were just request. Not threats to obey.

"Quit it already!" A frustrated tone called while swinging open the door.

Dr. Mary scrunched her nose at the sight of me. Her fine eyebrows raised. She settled her expression to be disgust then left on dark red silhouette to the living room, muttering about not dealing with this situation.

Luckily, the white haired woman sitting on the couch overheard and took Dr. Mary's place. She started to grow heated when she saw the tears. Both her hands clenched into tight fists.

"I'm gonna kill that idiot!" She snarled, baring the sky blue lines on her forearms.

From the kitchen, the pipes rattled in tune with her. I grabbed onto her wrists before a tsunami could break out. There was no need to drown innocent people to only attack one.

She breathed through her nose, trying to calm down. It took a few rounds until she reopened her eyes and moved out of my grasp.

"Okay," she said crossing her arms over her chest, "I'll kill the idiot after you tell me what he did."

I forced a smile at her protective attitude and quickly ducked my head feeling another river of tears.

The story stumbled out in uneven sobs. Some of it understandable. The rest not so much. But I made sure to say his name clearly once.

It only took that to make her gasp.

"You're kidding." She mumbled, "but you saw him and all their bodies before-"

I pressed my palms over my ears.

Oceana caught on to the hint and quickly back trailed away from that sentence.

"I can't believe he's alive." She said while grasping onto my shoulders, "what are you going to do?"

What was I going to do?

My childhood crush had just come back from the dead and all these years I'd been trying to learn how to live with the idea that we'd never see each other again. Now, he's all alone in a huge house and here I am unsure.

We could have been happily reuniting. Our stories taking a turn to something greater but I was disappointed. None of this made sense. If he'd really been alive all this time, why did he only come to find me?