Opia

The rain was cold and wet and made my sweater cling to my torso in uncomfortable ways. It was more than evident that her black sweater was soaked just as much as mine and that her jeans were sticking to her legs. I wanted to do nothing more than encase her in my arms and embrace her until the sun shown again. But her eyes flitted back to the door, as if the oblivion of what was going on inside her home scared her to no end.

She began to retreat back inside but not before giving me a haunting stare. It made me uncomfortable, in more ways than one, and that in itself was enough to send me back inside. "What in the hell just happened?" I muttered, running a hand through my hair as I sauntered back into the kitchen. My hands were shaky and I could not tell if it was from the rain or the way she stared at me.

I decided that I would lie in bed for an hour or so to let the eeriness of her beauty fade. I shed my wet clothing down to my underwear and my socks the minute I stepped into my bedroom, for I was disgusted by how the mixture of the salt and the water coated my skin. My sheets smelled like powder, as if my mother had snuck into my room while I was out and freshened them. I did not mind; it just gave me more of a reason to tangle myself into my sheets and forget what had just happened.

Part of me felt as if I had just had an encounter with one of Satan's demons and the other part felt as if I had just encountered my bittersweet demise. If anything, I prayed that it was the latter. God, how I prayed that it was the latter because I wanted nothing more but to destroy her to the point where we could just combine our broken pieces and mold into one.

I turned on my back and stared at the ceiling lamp. I stared at it because, frankly, I had nothing else to stare at and nothing better to do. After a duration of about three minutes, it began to burn and seethe, but I kept staring. It kind of reminded me of the dark-haired girl's cold stare on me outside. It was then that I realized that we were neighbors, that we only lived down the street from each other. I was more than curious as to why I had never saw her before, as to why she never saw me. Yet I did not know if it was something I actually wanted to know the answer to.

I tried to search my memory for the day her and whoever else occupied that house moved to our division. My mother and I had lived in the same cul-de-sac for as long as I could remember—I was more than tired of waking up and seeing the exact same scenery every morning—and I knew every person that moved near. But then again, I guess I did not.

With a sigh, I closed my eyes, giving them a break from the bright light above me. I could still hear the rain pattering on the window and in a way, it was calming enough to soothe me in my state of confusion and happiness. It was enough to lull me to sleep.