Things changed between us after our brush with that screeching death.
The flutter of foolish hope that flipped in my chest and tantalized my daydreams was the worst punishment.
Just when I thought Missy was moving past suspicion and doubts with her gentle lips on my cheek, she shifted back into ignorance.
To her, nothing happened. I wasn't anything other than her wild stroke of happiness that battled the sea of grass every afternoon.
I didn't show glimpses of humanity beneath my pale skin and stained claws.
Her clean house, her batch of soup she pulled rosemary and basil from in confusion, the abandoned towel she scrubbed clean from where it had fallen from me in the dirt; it could all be swept out the door and ignored.
But, it wasn't the same as it had been only three days ago.
Missy still smiled when her voice flitted in the wind. She still sat with me on her creaking stairs to share a bowl of hot soup. She even laughed when she told stories of the big city and her rural life trying to fit in.
But, I noticed the change.
Her smile ebbed away when I came near. Her body, once close, was just a bit further away from mine. Her laughter always seemed a bit too short, and her silent smile it fell into just a little too sad.
I was still her Soup, but why didn't I feel like it?
I didn't know if she needed more time to convince herself out of her milling mind, or if having me lingering here was batting out those doubts.
Sitting at the bottom of the stairs, I felt like her eyes watching me from the kitchen window as she scrubbed her dishes were already deciding where I stood in her life.
The scent of artificial zesty lemons and cool mint danced in the fresh breeze. I heard the clinking of utensils on ceramic that bobbed within the swirling water.
I hated how silent it was. I wanted it to just go back to the way things were.
Glancing back to Missy, my ears dropped at our eyes meeting.
My head turned back to watch the empty train track and the surrounding grass rippling around it. Her hands placed the ceramic on her stone bench-tops before whipping up a tea towel.
"Soup" her voice came quietly "did you....?"
I glanced again and saw her brown eyes dart to the sky instead. Mine followed.
"It's going to rain today" she observed the dark clouds gathered in the distance as the tea towel squeaked it's way around the dripping bowl she rotated "did you want to stay here out of it?"
Was that a good idea? Wouldn't I mess things up more if Missy could observe me closer in a place she was supposed to feel safe in?
Or would she snap out of her decision made on me and happily accept that I was something more to her now?
Rolling my eyes to myself, I huffed.
Thoughts like those are what landed you in this situation, Soup.
The dishes danced more within the sloshing waters. I heard Missy give a little sigh when she plucked up some clattering utensils.
"The thistles are lovely" her voice softly lifted into a smile.
The stab at my heart from her acceptance had my eyes widening in fear.
Instantly, I was up and making my way through the safety of the long grass for the open gate. My gut stabbed and screamed for me to bury myself somewhere far away from her realisation.
She knew. She wasn't going to fall for the false reality I had hoped she had been playing with all this time.
She had been gluing together the truth, little by little; day by day. And I had been convincing myself she was blind to it all.
Missy's voice groaned in defeat, and I heard the utensils clatter on the stone bench. A few steps and she was lingering by her doorframe that snatched at her yellow dress she yanked.
"Soup!" she pleaded as I snaked my way further from her, eyes prickling with shame that focused on the dirt instead "it's nothing to be scared of! Soup! W-Wait!"
I hear the ripping of her dress shredding its stitches, bolting now for the empty tracks to follow to where it was safest as Missy clutched her torn dress hopelessly.
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Wind howled and whistled through the batting branches threatening to snap from the tree I huddled underneath.
A slither of body heat was trapped within my curled body convulsing through the icy rain spearing into my skin I had earlier smothered in dirt to try and sap the afternoon warmth from.
Within minutes of the dark skies and growling clouds smudging over the fading sun, the dirt had splattered into mud that blanketed me in filth.
Tucking my head into my chest and curling my numb fingers further around myself, my tears mixed with the howling rain numbing anything not trying to steal back the heat being beaten away.
Nothing but the swirling void of the stormy night surrounded me. The tree I pressed my shivering body to groaned and cracked from the torture being torn through it.
Even the moon was hiding away. It's light didn't dare to cast into the frightening landscape below.
With my whole body numb, I scraped at the mud to search for the warmth beneath it.
It trickled between my gripping fingers that sank below the surface.
With another scrape at the ground, I heaved myself up to throw my weight into the clawing. It carved up the mud sloshing back into the pit and tumbled out hidden stones guards by the roots of the tree I burrowed beneath.
If I couldn't escape the storm, then I would see if through. This pit would be my sanctuary until I had the strength to face my own fears.
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Waking up dripping in mud wasn't the dry welcome I had planned on being greeted with.
While asleep in my hole beneath the roots, the storm blew the rain inwards over hours of howling darkness to try and flood me out.
It almost worked too. Exhausted, I didn't wake until water snorted up my nostrils and had me choking through the pool of mud I dragged myself from.
With nowhere else to go, I followed my path back towards the tracks that would take me towards the little house in the whipping field of flowers.
No-one dared to brave the storm when I passed the town entrance and staggered past it through the wind shoving me back.
Lights illuminated homes and businesses that heads peered hopelessly from. Not even the animals were brave enough to be out in the wild weather threatening to tear and demolish anything in it's wake.
Keeping to the tracks was safest. When I saw the blurred lights of the train in the distance, I veered to the left instead to struggle through the swampy fields burning my frozen hands.
The train bellowed past with a gust of wind that blinded me with the pelting rain flinging off the carriages. Everything burned as I ducked my head and endured the stabbing along the back of my head and down my spine. My hands seeped through the muddy earth one painful step at a time towards the light spilling out the window of the house on the hill. 356Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxOTPHncSra
