Page 66 of Eyes Like Angel

I don’t belong into a born of love or friendship, especially to Adrian.

I don’t belong to be here, and be born as myself. I’m here to serve God and God only.

The words drank and spiked in my system, heating up to a point I wanted to implode onto the world that forsake me. Used and forsaken, toyed and tossed.

My chest heated up.

You shouldn’t have invited me to your party.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said to him numbly.

Out of nowhere, his hand yanked my hand so hard my working glove came off, revealing the silver bracelet and my burnt-scar on my whole hand.

Adrian’s eyes flashed in horror, barely containing a whisper escaped from his lips. “Who did this to you?”

Snatched the glove back quick and placed it on. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Who?” he dared, eyes gleaming in excited fury.

“No one—there’s no one!”

He got himself closer to me, little by little, until I was clutched in by his hands that felt magnetized to me.

My devastation was settling in, rocking and swirled countless conclusions, provoking me to unleash this horrid cry. He got up and handled me by my hands pulling closer to his touch, swarmed and layered over me, as if he’s the closest fire I could basked myself in from this dripping rainfall, not a hot boiling oil stinging onto my old wounds.

“I won’t say a word,” he promised. “Please, I want you to open up to me about that night before. I was worried about you.”

My voice choked, tears swelled in my eyes, but pulled myself together.

Men liked tears, Sister Joanne said once to me.Men preyed on girls who are weak, who cry easily, begging for help like a helpless little girl, men like girls who act like babies. They’ll destroy you, no matter what. I mean being cared for is great, to have someone wipe your tears away. I mean, it sounded nice. But why have hopes of having the chances of a man accepting someone like you when you can lock yourself in and stay indoors in your dark attic for good?

Her cackles pierced into my ears repeatedly.

I wanted to stab myself, stab my ears, stab my throat, and decapitate a part of me to be fallen apart.

“Say something, Eva,” Adrian begged, shaking me, rocking me.

My chapped lips parted. “I…”

He waited, his expression was growing weary and concerned.

The rainfall thrummed.

“I can’t,” I muttered, angling my eyes lower on a rain puddle.

His face contorted to sadness, as if he had lost his touch to reality, has lost his ability to make a hopeful connection.

“I’m sorry!”

“Wait,” he called, hauling me back, only to pivot my frame, inclining his head down and his lips captured mine. My voice let out a muffled groan, indicating him to press his large body against me, his tongue darted out, tangling to my tongue, warming our bodies under a pouring rain, warming with his sudden desire.

My hands froze in mid-air. I froze in place, as his pitch-black eyes were gazing at me, soon closes them, his one hand cradling my back head as the other hauled me to reassure his own in a deeper proximity.

Pushing his body and his closeness apart, I dashed through the doors, leaving him in despair; his pitch-black eyes still lingered onto my back even when I rushed away into a mist. The foreign notion of his pleas, his cries, his concern, and his touches, his kiss…were they all real?

Were they all real to begin with?

I hadn’t found a verse where a man had his teary eyes, begging for a woman on his knees, under a rainfall. My tears were spared, for they are useless, and had plops of rainfall do it for me.