Dust stirs with each of her shallow breath, the ground pressing hard against her ribs.
It... It hurts to breathe
Her blurred vision settle on the overturned car, grey smoke curling upward.
Limp arm, dripping in blood, hang from the shattered window.
Her fingers twitch, her head throbbing as a sharp ringing pounds through her ears.
She wants to move, to pull them out and save them.
A tears slips her eye.
The air thickens with a nauseating stench of blood and gasoline.
What happened...
She was there, just moments ago,
laughing with her parents, singing along to the music that played in the car.
A deafening rumble rips through the stillness, shattered metals twisting in the air. Orange and blue flames surge upward, burning the road flanked by woods.
Heat slams into her, seating through her skin, the relentless roar of fire devouring what's left of her.
Neva gasps awake.
Her heart pounds as the ceiling ripples above her before the bizarre shapes in the pale palette settle into focus.
She curls onto her side,
tugging the duvet up to her throat, seeking warmth that she cannot feel.
The incident from eight years ago still haunts her, returning through recurring nightmares on unpatterned nights.
She wishes it had vanished with the rest of her memories of ten years.
Her parents' faces, especially her mother's, are always blurred anyway.
Her paternal aunt and uncle took her in after that.
As a child, Neva often wondered why they kept only photographs of her father when he was younger.
There were none of her mother, nor of herself as a little girl.
She had simply assumed that,
somewhere along the way, the families had drifted apart before the accident.
But had she really never received any of their belongings after they died?
Her aunt had always said they were lost in a fire.
Yet Neva had never quite believed it.
Perhaps her aunt had never shared a close relationship with her brother and sister-in-law.
The grief of losing her parents had been sharp and brutal during the initial days.
But as the pages of the years turned, the agony lessened, and only love,
and a bearable longing remained.
Still, she misses them. She always would, especially her mother.
Gosh...
A whimper escapes her and she buries her face beneath the duvet.
Her first day of college, and the morning had already begun so terribly.
Now, all she can do is pray to her Father to please... please let today be kind to her.
⑅ ⑅ ⑅ ⑅
By seven-thirty, Neva steps out of her apartment, the morning chill brushing against her cheeks as she fixes the leather straps of her handbag on her shoulders.
Her thoughts still clouded,
she descends the stairs, her fingers gliding along the cool iron handrail.
"Where you going, Angel?"
Comes the wind carrying the voice.
She sways faintly, turning just enough to catch a glimpse of the voice's source.
The... Mystery man.
The Mystery man?!
He lingers in the balcony corridor, leaning against the railing,
his forearms resting upon it.
A sheepish grin plays across his oh so handsome face.
Heat floods her cheeks as the memories come thrashing back... their first meeting, the absurd proposal, the following around everywhere, and the fact that
she nearly called the cops on him!
Neva turns away instantly,
heart hammering so hard she can almost feel it leap out her chest.
She starts forward, her steps shallow and sub-conscious.
She's almost assured she's floating in the air.
Why now!
It's been almost a week since she met him last.
She could've gone her whole life without seeing him again.
The memory crashes on her all over again, the realization that he had been telling the truth, that he actually did live next door.
She squeezes her eyes shut as fresh mortification creeps through her veins.
Dear Father, why?
Her spine straightens as light footsteps draws closer,
until his warmth blooms behind her.
Then he moves to stand before her, blocking her way.
She goes still, meeting those warm chocolate-brown eyes.
He leans in, his voice dripping to a murmur, "I asked you something, Angel..."
Her breath catches, yet she somehow manages to whisper. "U... University—"
He parts his lips in a silent oh.
Pressing her lips together, she steps aside.
Her hands curl onto the straps of her handbag as footsteps trail behind her again.
He falls into step beside her just as she passes the gates and onto the sidewalk.
Then she pretends he isn't there, quietly trying to steady her breathing.
She tries to focus on the cool, shadowed stretch of the street and the shafts of sunlight slipping through the trees,
warming her for the briefest of moments...
but the faint woody scent of the
Mystery man walking
beside her makes it impossible.
No one, not a soul passes by.
It's just him and her walking like they have known each other for forever.
"Why are you walking with me?" she whispers.
"Hmm?"
She glances at him for the briefest moment before looking away, though not before catching the faint smile playing on his lips.
"Why, you ask?" he says, a pause hanging between them.
"What kind of man would I be, if I don't escort the woman I'm dying to court?"
"You can't be serious," she says.
"But I am." His tone is soft, light. Then he pauses for a second, a hint of surprise flickering in his voice. "You don't think I am?"
"No," she replies curtly.
"Oh..." He nods slowly, as if the realization is only dawning on him.
"Then how should I make you believe," he adds, "that I do, in fact, really want you."
Gosh... Gosh... Gosh!
Can be stop? He's so infuriatingly casual, almost diasarmingly upfront!
"Do we start by getting to know each other— oh, wait,"
he cuts himself off with a soft laugh, "I never even asked your name, did I, Angel?"
Neva huffs. How dare he?!
"I'm not telling you." She keeps her gaze fixed ahead as the path leads them deeper into the quiet, town-like heart of Vernellia.
"Then would you prefer if I found out on my own?" he teases.
"Follow you around, all day... maybe even sit with you during the lectures?"
Neva whips her head toward him. "You can't do that!"
"Oh, I sure can." A grin tugs at his lips as he slips his hands inside the pocket of his black leather jacket.
She presses her lips together, her nose flaring. "Neva." She surrenders her name.
"What a beautiful name," he murmurs softly.
"Will you leave me alone now?" She glances at him.
He squints, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes. "I never said anything
about not walking you to your college."
Neva plants her foot firmly on the ground.
Her chest swells with absolute frustration.
And there, just ahead, the soft yellow glow of a sign catches her eye.
Bournville Bakery & Café.
A shame, truly, one of her favourite places, and yet the setting of their second encounter on that crazy day.