Page 71 of Eyes Like Angel (Eyes Like Angel #1)

“I know, but, it felt like I’m stuck in a morgue,” I explained, scratching at the back of my head. “I think I’m about to go crazy like Alice in Wonderland .”

“This is a hospital, not a morgue or an asylum,” she reminded, cautioned regarding to my next words spewing out. “Not even a video game you always play.”

I snorted. “I know.”

My head shaken, lowering it down that my locks swayed, not wanting to see the hospital floor.

Marceline soothed me by stroking my forearm. “Don’t think like that, okay? She’s going to be fine. She’ll get better.”

Not according to Eva’s severely tragic condition. Ribs protruding, her stomach hollow, her cheekbones sallow, pale skin melded in fresh and old wounds scarred her, beaten down to God knows what.

Marceline gripped her hand, tightened on my branded jacket.

“But, have you seen her? I’m worried. Sometimes it feels like I’m seeing a waxed doll.”

“Adrian, I’m being so fucking serious here,” she added, her glare narrowed.

My thin brow flicked. “I never took you as a motherly type.”

“Well, I’m not a mother, and I don’t want to become one,” she clarified with a huff.

“Besides, you know how my mom and I were, how we’ve always been—the same old shit.

She’s a fucking bitch—won’t stop yelling at me at every move I make or sound from my mouth, and if it’s my birthday or my father’s death anniversary, she makes everything about herself.

If it’s my two brothers, she can’t say shit about them, because they’re nothing but angels and I’m just a devil incarnate who wears punk and metallic rock getup. ”

Marceline huffed after letting out a quick statement, as if the intensity had clung to her like she was dying to the noise in her judgement from clouding.

Sometime before, I’ve met Marceline’s mother once.

Let’s just say she’s not the kind where she invites people at home.

She’s rather the type to choose friends and predetermined Marceline’s life without a room to object or defy.

Marceline’s brothers, however, were…underdeveloped with their social skills, older than Marceline, they clung onto their mother like the baby birds in the bird’s nest, waiting to be fed by worms to be dropped from their mother’s mouth.

Once I came over by Marceline’s house one time, needless to say anything is but welcoming and heart-warming to stay. I stayed less than twenty minutes for Marceline to prim herself. Her mother was eccentric to a point I feel like I’ve been stuffed down with a pillow, or a leash to chain me in.

People in Fort Heaven were just stiffly old-fashioned, nothing new or revolutionary to effort the better progression.

“Yes, a devil incarnate with Neapolitan highlights,” I quipped, “a devil that was constantly changing her appearance and hairstyle and wears ridiculously chunky boots to be taller was telling quite a lot.”

Her brown eyes narrowed at me in a flash as a first and final caution.

Like mother, like daughter.

“Don’t fucking start,” her voice laced dangerously. “Not now. If Eva hears this shit, she might freak.”

My back straightened at a worst scenario shrouded in my head, seeing Eva running and hiding from me, like how she did at the Rivers Foundations.

“Or do I beat you, knock you senseless?” her hiss broke my worst imagination.

Snorted, my shoulders slackened at her veil threat, but I knew she means well. “Yeah, I can see why our dear Aaron has a huge crush on you.”

She lightly gasped, her body leaned back.

Then I bit my lip.

It was too late.

“He…likes me?” her voice hesitated, like it was child-like.

Okay, way too fucking late.

“Un-fucking-believable,” she groaned, smacking her forehead.

I bit my lip awkwardly, stuttering. “I, uh—” I cleared my throat—“I thought it was obvious, since he’s always with you.”

She’d shaken her head. “No, it clearly wasn’t.”

Marceline took a brief minute to recollect her usual image.

Her mind buffered, reloading and refreshing until she remembers who she is.

“No fucking way,” she added, exasperated at my sudden statement.

“Aaron is as clueless as a rock. Forget it, I can’t insult rocks.

Rocks are cool, but Aaron’s dumb as a frat boy who likes to have a jockstrap in his closet for the next ‘it’ girl to ram over. ”

“Ah, you’re in denial,” I quipped.

“And you’re a smartass,” she retorted back.

“I am.”

“Very and much likely condescending,” she said stiffly.

“I’m okay with being condescending.”

Her nose crinkled, her eye twitched. “Okay, that response is annoying as fuck.”

“I’m fine with that, too.”

“If you were a flying turkey, and I had a shotgun, I’d fucking shoot you.”

My shoulders bopped casually. “That’s completely fine, too. Geez, talk about being in heat, you had no problems using profanity at a quiet setting.”

She exhaled a shaken breath, given up. “No way Aaron likes me. No fucking way. Maybe you’re drunk right now. That’s it. You could be drunk before you came here.”

Shrugging, I sat down beside her, hands behind my neck, stretching my back out as my bones crackled. “Marcy, if I was drunk, I would’ve been in jail and have someone to bail me out by now.”

“Don’t ask me to bail you out, I’m not going to do it,” she vexed at my mischief.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” I said, hands up in the air. “No need to get upset.” I drew a long pause, as Marceline remedied her swift aggression. “So, what now? Any idea what your next move is going to be?”

Marceline’s brows knitted. “What?”

“How are you going to handle your dear Romeo?” I teased further, gently bumping her with my elbow. “I can’t make promises, but I can transfer you and him for a romantic trip to Italy—get paid by me, your enchanted cupid.”

She frustratingly tucked a pink strand behind her ear.

“I don’t fucking know. I’m not good with meaningful conversations with a guy who likes me.

” Another pause entered. “Well,” Marceline said, slapping her thighs as she was standing up, “I have to go see Eva now. See how she’s been doing.

I haven’t spoken to her since the Rivers Foundation. ”

Before she reaches for the door handle, I gripped her forearm. Marceline faced me.

“Do you know her last name by any chance?” I inquired, the tension burdened on my shoulders settled in, it has gotten heavier than a fucking boulder weighing on my backbone.

A neutral expression contorted on her girlish features. “No.”

“Has she said anything to you before?” I insisted on grasping straws at this moment.

Then she smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, I don’t. But I wish I could.”

“Watch over her. Please,” I said, regretting the ominous words I mentioned earlier regarding to Eva—I’m trembling in fear.

My hand loosened the grip, watching Marceline opened the door to greet Eva, having some girl talk, but I didn’t mind. Eva needs a new companion to be fond over.

Through a closed door, Eva and Marceline cackled, laughing over some dumb joke or gossip. Whichever it is, I was relieved that we’re no longer in a dark forest.

As for I, wandered, for that I’ll never uncover, leading more questions than the truth.

This truth is hidden well. Saul couldn’t uncover or traced the old records back.

As for I, wondered what will I do next to uncover this truth, and it all began from trying to learn Eva’s surname.

Fort Heaven must’ve hid it somewhere in the piles, but it’ll take forever to reach the progress I had high hopes for.

For now, I must relax and inhaled a breath. For now, Eva regaining her health back is my central objective, to appease my little universe.

With a closed door, my hand itched to unlock and bravely join the conversation between them. Though not entirely followed through, my hand twisted the door handle and pushed a little gasp, engrossed with their girl talk.

“Once you’re healed, I’ll treat you to new desserts. You don’t have to pay,” Marceline insisted. “I assume you’re hungry?”

I heard a teasing voice within Marceline’s words, a rare occurrence from her usual tough act she’d follow.

“Not now,” Eva replied.

“We can talk about anything. I’ll even teach you how to do roller blades or skateboard. I haven’t used my skateboard in a while, but I can teach you how. And we can talk about what clothes to wear and what makeup to use.”

“Makeup?” Eva’s head tilted innocently.

Marceline nodded. “I can teach you how to be a…girl. Well, you are a girl. I meant a normal girl. I could also teach you how to cuss. I always do this to new people at our age.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake . As usual, Marceline’s being so persistent.

But I can’t picture Eva cursing at someone, living in an environment where she’s been sheltered and depraved, as her modern vocabulary was limited it drove me to concern, and pictured the worst case scenarios, future jumping ahead, picturing what life would be like if Marceline hadn’t spoken to her, or Eva’s being introduced to a cuisine she hasn’t tasted and tested, or what would transpire if I hadn’t met her on Thanksgiving day on a Sunday Mass, if I chose not to attend and went to ditch for a dear dead Samantha?

The lines of various paths, I’d like to think there’s an alternative universe of Eva, having the life she craved for and be bubbly.

But with this universe, it can be challenging at times, but it was worth the shot.

To mend and remedied, that’s how life works if something was missing, a missing key to unlock the door, and cross the new pathway, a light to invite her in.

“Trust me, it’ll be fun,” Marceline promised. Slowly, she trailed her manicured nails and her studded jewels towards Eva are, considering how Eva flinched.

But, Eva didn’t flinch; she let Marceline clasped her hand.