Forever Like That (#Wattys2015) (#YourStoryIndia)

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE: Six Month Flashes.

 

Six months.

That’s how long it took to reveal secrets. All of them. One by one. Life changed, as per perspectives.

Hidden talks came out. Suspicions became the truth. Doubts became crystal clean. And everything escalated in the infinity of two months.

“Hey Jake?” Leah said, leaning on the wooden brown doorframe, her arms crossed across her chest. She frowned, as Jake struggled to pull on a shirt to cover up his upper body.

“Yeah?” Jake looked up, his eyes filled with fear, like caught red hand.

“I thought we were best friends Jake,” Leah said, sounding sad. Her eyes trying not to well up.

“Of course, we are,” he said, recovering from the fear. “Why would you doubt that?” Jake asked.

“Its daylight, Jake,” Leah said, nodding towards the sunlight coming from the window, the blinds pulled back. Her arms unfolded, as she made her way over to Jake. Her eyes fixed on his chest, that was covered with a thin fabric, not totally opaque.

Leah unbuttoned his shirt that was halfway already unbuttoned. Jake stopped her, his hand over her’s, obstructing it from revealing any more. “Don’t,” he said.

She ignored his pleas, unbuttoned his shirt fully. Her eyes welled up, sobs now, trying to escape. She held them back, became brave.

Her fingers, involuntarily, tracing the lines of dark on his chest and abdomen. She looked up, he was looking her straight in the eye. Leah didn’t want to know how he got them, but at the same time she wanted to.

“H-how?” she whispered, her fingers still tracing the lines. Jake pulled the edges of his shirt out of Leah’s grip. She didn’t protest, she couldn’t look anymore. They were painful.

Jake sighed. He never wanted anyone to know. He never wanted anyone to see. He didn’t want pity, he wasn’t getting any though. Leah showed him concern. Jakes eyes darted anywhere but on Leah. He quit making eye contact with her, he didn’t want to look into her eyes and spill everything.

He looked. Against his will. As Leah placed her finger under his chin and lifted his head, looking him right in the eye. He felt defeated. Leah hugged him, “tell me,” she whispered into his ear.

“I…I don’t know how to,” Jake said.

“Tell me in the words that won’t hurt,” Leah told him.

“I haven’t yet come across such a word, I’m sorry,” he answered.

“Then tell me in the words that you have come up with until now,” she said. She wouldn’t let go.

“They won’t go,” Jake said, his eyes filled with the sorrow. Times like this, he pitied himself. “They won’t go away,” he said, his fingers tangled in his hair, that was messed up.

“These?” Leah asked, tracing her thumb over his shoulder, where there was a long gash that looked old. Where at one time must’ve been a lot of blood pooled out.

It was a scar.

Scars leave marks. Memories. Bad memories.

The memories you cannot forget because the marks remind you. They’re the memories hidden in the shadows of life, you don’t want to see. You don’t want the light to reach those because light casts a shadow.