Winter's Last Stand {COMPLETED}

Chapter 14{Waiting for the Storm}

I drew him in my world;

I write him in my lines,

I want to be his girl,

he was never meant as mine.

I drew him in my world;

He is always on my mind

;I draw his every line.It hurts when he's unkind.

I drew him in my world;

I draw him all the time,

but I don't know where to draw the line.  

We all do things we desperately wish we could undo. Those regrets just become part of who we are, along with everything else. To spend time trying to change that, well, it's like chasing clouds.

Time was passing like a hand waving from a train. His existence bored holes in her heart, his words pinched her flesh from her bones. 

How miserable....

And that she was. Miserable. Drowning deep in the pit of her misery. With no more  dynamism to emerge on the surface.

It was a hypothermic Sunday afternoon when she was cleaning up her room with him snoring on the bed.

God those snores were now drilling holes in her eardrum. 

Something ticked her heart. But she ignored it and proceeded her daily tasks.

Out of the blue his cell phone chimed. With all the tediousness of the world he attended the call. 

'I'll be out for an hour or so.'

With that he was out of the room and within a minute she heard his car purring out the porch.

Strange.

He never got out in such drowsy attire.

Whatever..

***********

It was 7 in the evening by now he was still 'out'. 

8.

9.

That ticking sensation was now dominating her senses, rolling her mind in a whirlwind. The clock was about to struck 10 when she heard his car's horn. Extricating her ceased breath she opened the entry and found him standing in the doorway with a half lit cigar  whimpering for life between his sharp incisors.

He looked at her, with a deadpan face. She moved backward to let him in.

After another mute dinner of the day they retired to their bedroom.

But there was something bizarre in the air. 

Silence.

A strange silence that promised something peculiar. Just as the silence before a prodigious storm to wait for.

She could hear whispers and distant mutters. She could smell those damp on the breeze and in the sky, the halo of its violence. Storm. She could see it coming.  

But then again she fell in love with the storm. Her world looked like a storm and he was the center of it.