Eternity

Chapter Seven~ A Whisper and its Scarred, Black eyes

"So, what do we do now?" Mackenzie innocently glances around the room. Her luminous beryl eyes scan the room as she, out of habit (I'm guessing), bites her lip. Her fingers are again found entangled in front of her, as she awaits a response.

I grunt and swivel around towards her. "I don't know. All we established is that we'd be meeting at my house." I sigh.

Jacob turns to glare at me as he exaggerates, "well, maybe if you got off your goshdamn ass, and out of that damn swivel chair, then we could get started on our project." He fumes, his chest heavy with the puffs of oxygen he's breathing.

I simply spin around one more time before stopping to wink at him, "Why should I, Jakey-poo? When life gives you swively chairs, you just gotta swivel." He grinds his teeth together before pausing—

—And rushes over to me, plopping on top of my lap and swinging us around. Chorus of laughter fills the air. Meanwhile, my head is swirling around, colors, and sounds, and smells bleed together.

Overwhelmed, I slam my hands on my desk and cease the spinning. "Oh gosh, I'm gonna be sick."

~~~

After a few minutes of me sitting on the comfort of my carpet, and listening to the rest of the group drone on about what we should start on, I am finally ready to speak.

"Okay, so let's go over what the project is about." Everyone nods their heads in sync. Using my fingers to count, I name off what we have to do.

"Okay, so we have to learn about each others' personal life, compare them to each other's, and see how they vary and write a project about that?" I glance around the room for acknowledgment.

Thomas dips his chin and speaks up. "She said after class we could either make a poster or power point ready to present, or write a paper for her."

I pout my lips while I ponder what he said. However, Wayland is the first to speak.

"So. I vote on just writing a paper." Everyone seems to agree on his statement, all of us humming a yes or 'uh huh'.

"Well then—" Wayland starts and I join in with him, "—we'd better get started."

~~~

"Um... so how far back do we have to go, exactly?" My fists tighten at the sides of my thighs. I can already feel the vile liquid wrapping around my fingers, slipping down and gathering at the tips of my fingers. I have the impulse to dig underneath my nails, to scrape every inch that the blood has touched. I wince at the thought of my nails grazing against the cuts, sharp pain flaring at the gentle touch.

Before I know it, I'm out of my mind and back into the never-ending darkness. Everything floods back to me. I'm reliving what happened, my mom— my mom—

I am given some semblance of safety, of an anchor, as harsh arms cloak around me. The arms scream for me— beg me— to find myself. But I cannot, for I'm lost in a pool of darkness and crimson, vile liquid.

~~~

I peek through my eyelashes to really look at him. It's only my second meeting with Wayland, and it already seems like I know everything about him. I know that his eyes always crinkle at the sides when he sees someone he knows, and he's wondering whether to take away the mask over his face for them, his friend. I know that there's always a disgusted snarl set on his lips, readying himself and warning anyone that threatens him. I know there is a curve to his cheeks that causes dimples to appear, ones that only come out when he's really smiling. A bit lip is his sign of surrender, his sign of a fight within himself, and a sign of reasurrence. The sparkle in his eye is not one of happiness, but one of devastation.