Art of Letting Go

The Hearts of Controversy

Part I

"Pain demands to be felt"

-John Green

(The Fault in our Stars)

"Those who love show their love"

-William Shakespeare

Prologue

Amethyst

I was walking down the empty streets; the sun is hiding behind the dark clouds. I'm supposed to run, but I didn't move. I passed by him as well as he did, but without caring of what I saw; I felt his hand on wrist. I turned my head to look... and there he is looking down the ground; as it started to rain. I don't know if it's real, but somehow with his back still unturned; a tight grip bruising my wrist; he sobbed—cold rain drops mixed in with hot-anguished tears is cascading down from the corners of his eyes to his jaw line and chin. He caught it with his other hand. I can see him hurting, but the sight of him hurts me more.

The silence has its ending; by the sound of the rain meeting the pavement. I looked up to watch the clouds cry for me; letting its tears fall down on my face. I looked away just in time to see him—staring at me. His misty eyes are like digging secrets at the depths of my soul. I closed my eyes knowing that his insolent glare filled the atmosphere. I'm aware of my wrist; he's gripping—was already numb. I felt claustrophobic, but never afraid; even if I should be. All I could picture on the murkiness beneath my eyelids was an old picture of him.

At seventeen: skinny and enigmatic. Those light shaded eyes; that speaks to me on an ordinary day; both turned my life extraordinary. Memories are bared to the grass land of my own eyes; as if I am peeking to his old DSLR camera.

I moaned his name in distress and prayed at once; for I knew it will be only him, who would look back if I do. "Artisan..." I don't know if it's a plea or a prayer.

NOW

Amethyst

THE silence is way too loud; that she can hear each of their footsteps—walking towards doomed; her rapid heartbeat, and the tiny voices inside her afflicted mind.

Amethyst knew the difference between what is right and what is easy, and right now she's very sure of what she's choosing. Her choice made her shiver through her spine. She glanced sideways—just to be face to face with the façade Artisan has built all over his complexion. He's trying to be stone-cold, but she knew better. He is as fragile as her, and they'll break into pieces after this chaos.

Her eyes watered predicting a heavy rain fall to her pale cheeks. Artisan tightens his grip of her cold hand, but the warmth wasn't there anymore, and no matter how he knotted his fingers with the soles of hers; her hand was already frozen—to the point of no chance of melting.

The hall way is empty; reflecting her sensibilities. She wiggled her hand out of his grip. His touch is acid to her skin. Artisan threw a menacing glares towards her; not liking what she had done. Fear crept to her young-miserable face. His hard expression turned solemn, and he let go of her hand as if it burnt his flesh. Relief crossed her features, and they walked on a reticent distance—she with her skinny arms crossed.

She used to trust herself, but this time—she doesn't know if she could trust her judgment of everything; because even her own fooled her. On her every action; there's always a good reason, but does she have this time around? She took a deep breath; expecting small snowflakes coming out of her mouth; because she felt colder each time hands of the clock run after another; like winter occur inside her soul.