Sequel: Eclat ›
Status: finished.
Smirt
Eleven.
“This isn’t funny. Where are you?” I heard Chris’s voice getting louder with each step he took. Damn. That had been quick.
After dancing around the store to dubstep, sitting in a shopping cart while Chris maneuvered it down the aisles, and attempting to break dance on the freshly mopped floor, we decided to play hide and seek. Well, a certain someone named Christofer Drew refused to play hide and seek. His refusal caused me to run and hide in the first room I found, which was the surveillance room. There were at least a dozen monitors that showed different areas in the store, including the parking lot. It was really impressive how high-tech this little supermarket was.
“Goddamnit. Did she leave? No, I don’t think she would. . .” As I heard him walk in the other direction, his footsteps fading away, I stood up and opened the door.
“Hey, Ingle! Over here!” I yelled, sticking out my tongue. He returned the gesture and held up a skateboard. “This is what we’re supposed to do next.”
“Wait a minute, I have a better idea. The list says ‘exchange stories with a pretty girl in a supermarket’s surveillance room’ right here in black ink.” I took out the paper and hastily wrote it down. “See?”
“Why do I have a feeling that this is not going to end well?” Chris shook his head and went inside, closing the door behind him. I sat on the floor; legs crossed Indian-style, and waited.
“Are you going to sit down? It’s question time and I’m dying to know some answers.” I paused for a moment. “Please? There aren’t that many questions and you’re going to do the same for me.”
Chris propped up the skateboard against the wall, sat down reluctantly, and sighed. “So, what do you want to ask me?”
“I’ll start with an easy question,” I replied with a smile, “Is your name really Christofer Drew Ingle?”
“Of course it is.” he laughed.
“Ok. Next question. Tell me more about yourself. For example, what were you like in high school? You don’t like talking about your past much, do you?” I exhaled a breath and bit my lip. Am I asking too many personal questions already?
“I don’t like talking about the past or the future,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders, “I live in the moment, I live in the now. I don’t live in the past; the past is bullshit, the future is bullshit.”
“You’re wrong,” I said, shivers trailing down my spine as anger coursed through my body.
“What was that?”
“You’re wrong.” By now, I was standing over him, glaring at him, really.
“Doll, why do you look. . .pissed off?” His perplexed expression didn’t faze me.
“I feel like you’re hiding something from me. And you’re wrong about the past and the future. My past changed me so much, it’s ridiculous how I let what happened control me.”
“What? I don’t understand. Is this about your---” He stood next to me, one hand reaching up to touch my cheek.
I almost started to tell him about her; I could feel myself becoming more vulnerable with each second that passed. But then the tranquility of the moment was shattered. I tore my gaze away from Christofer, my stomach churning uneasily, my throat constricting. I thought I was doing fine. I hadn’t experienced an anxiety attack in such a long time. Dr. Feldman would probably ask me about it during our next session.
“I’m sorry, Chris, I have to go,” I whispered, walking past him and trying not to look at him. Peripherally, I saw his shoulders slump in defeat as I left.
What have I done?
After dancing around the store to dubstep, sitting in a shopping cart while Chris maneuvered it down the aisles, and attempting to break dance on the freshly mopped floor, we decided to play hide and seek. Well, a certain someone named Christofer Drew refused to play hide and seek. His refusal caused me to run and hide in the first room I found, which was the surveillance room. There were at least a dozen monitors that showed different areas in the store, including the parking lot. It was really impressive how high-tech this little supermarket was.
“Goddamnit. Did she leave? No, I don’t think she would. . .” As I heard him walk in the other direction, his footsteps fading away, I stood up and opened the door.
“Hey, Ingle! Over here!” I yelled, sticking out my tongue. He returned the gesture and held up a skateboard. “This is what we’re supposed to do next.”
“Wait a minute, I have a better idea. The list says ‘exchange stories with a pretty girl in a supermarket’s surveillance room’ right here in black ink.” I took out the paper and hastily wrote it down. “See?”
“Why do I have a feeling that this is not going to end well?” Chris shook his head and went inside, closing the door behind him. I sat on the floor; legs crossed Indian-style, and waited.
“Are you going to sit down? It’s question time and I’m dying to know some answers.” I paused for a moment. “Please? There aren’t that many questions and you’re going to do the same for me.”
Chris propped up the skateboard against the wall, sat down reluctantly, and sighed. “So, what do you want to ask me?”
“I’ll start with an easy question,” I replied with a smile, “Is your name really Christofer Drew Ingle?”
“Of course it is.” he laughed.
“Ok. Next question. Tell me more about yourself. For example, what were you like in high school? You don’t like talking about your past much, do you?” I exhaled a breath and bit my lip. Am I asking too many personal questions already?
“I don’t like talking about the past or the future,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders, “I live in the moment, I live in the now. I don’t live in the past; the past is bullshit, the future is bullshit.”
“You’re wrong,” I said, shivers trailing down my spine as anger coursed through my body.
“What was that?”
“You’re wrong.” By now, I was standing over him, glaring at him, really.
“Doll, why do you look. . .pissed off?” His perplexed expression didn’t faze me.
“I feel like you’re hiding something from me. And you’re wrong about the past and the future. My past changed me so much, it’s ridiculous how I let what happened control me.”
“What? I don’t understand. Is this about your---” He stood next to me, one hand reaching up to touch my cheek.
I almost started to tell him about her; I could feel myself becoming more vulnerable with each second that passed. But then the tranquility of the moment was shattered. I tore my gaze away from Christofer, my stomach churning uneasily, my throat constricting. I thought I was doing fine. I hadn’t experienced an anxiety attack in such a long time. Dr. Feldman would probably ask me about it during our next session.
“I’m sorry, Chris, I have to go,” I whispered, walking past him and trying not to look at him. Peripherally, I saw his shoulders slump in defeat as I left.
What have I done?
♠ ♠ ♠
I can't believe how long it took me to write this.[Two weeks. Ugh. I am horrible, I know.]
& I can't say I'm proud of it.
This chapter was a bit tricky to write.
It started off with them having fun, but of course Dahlia had to have her guard up;
there will be more background info of how her best friend died in chapter thirteen.
But yeah, my favourite part of this chapter was Christofer talking about the
past and the future, because it's a direct quote from this interview he did.
Here it is:
NSN Interview AP Tour 2010