SPIRITED (The Blended Hearts Series)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Placing the disgusting drink on the table, she leaned back on the couch and sank herself. She looked up in the night sky while listening to the three interact. She had nothing to say; muted on spot. An excruciating moment of discomfort passed before she excused herself and escaped back to the party. Eugene caught her before she could disappear and escorted her to the dance floor that was covered in glamorous decorations. She put up no fight and let him lead. While swaying to the music, she kept thinking about Conrad and plotting ways to escape the party to somewhere peaceful. Eugene made small talk as she nodded her head and smiled; chuckling when he made jokes. He was so unenlightened about the situation and she was more thankful than vexed. Yearning to discuss the topic but not ready for any questions and advice. She trailed her sight to where he stood, back to her; his frame shaking every often. They spoke in soft hushed tones and she ached to be closer, just to hear the whispering. Her behavior was preposterous; an act so frivolous. But she saw no other way than this to save her dear heart so soon from the hammering she felt so deep whenever he showed face. She was unable to handle the swiveling extent of her emotions at the time.

She texted Nowel that she was too tired and exhausted from the party but left out the part of being unable to face the music. And trained her spirit to be excited for home.

As soon as she parked the car in the garage, she lurched to the comfort of her room and changed into pyjamas before jumping into bed. She kept on tossing side to side in bed looking for the best position; seemingly at a loss of sleep. Giving up, she opened her nightstand and removed her diary and wrote how she felt about the party as well as Conrad's come back to Uganda. She wanted nothing to do with him.

She picked the remote from the nightstand and flipped through the local channels on her television. She stopped on a channel where music was playing. Then closed the door to her room and turned the volume low. She laid on the couch by her window and closed her eyes, allowing her mind to calm down. Music suddenly stopped and adverts came up. They showed movie trailers. She just turned and faced the screen again. She caught sight of a shirtless Conrad just like the picture on his Instagram. He was in an advert as a poor hot mechanic who is so happy and contented. Just as she picked interest, it ended. It seemed like the world was playing tricks with her. Flashing his existence in her face all the time. Even at the party, she didn't expect him to be there. Not like she wasn't happy to see him back. But there is that small ting that made her cower from her emotions. Something she thought she had lost. The spark they had. That simple connection. She felt his presence from a far. His vicinity was always something she knew. And her body always acted on instinct. She felt things that she now knew were wrong for her. Love was not her portion. Men in his family were all the same. They just keep on breaking hearts, cheating and taking their anger out on others. How could he be any different from his father? That is a question kept on pushing at the back; drawing on the little hope she had that he is different. But then again, she doesn't know him anymore. Nowel had said nothing to her concerning Conrad. Music came up again and she sighed leaning back and raising her legs to lay flat on the couch, legs up.

It was now midnight and she had no speck of sleep. Closing her eyes, she tried meditation. All was dark under her lids; Finally giving up trying to sleep, she sat up and picked her laptop from the table and turned it on. She opened up a fresh page in a folder and named it 'meh' to start on a new book. She let herself dwell in the melody of the music that played on the television. Smiling to herself, she wrote down her first line. Everything came easy to her when she started writing. The only sound that was heard in the house apart from the music, was the continuous banging of the keyboard as she typed and saved her work. Everything in her room was of purpose to her, the flowery curtains, the couch by the window, the pale pink of the walls, music, clothes, pictures, movies and the view she got from her window of green plus the expanse of trees that led to her mother's farm. There was also Njala road if she looked beyond. Everything became real and visual when she caught a pen and started writing or typing on her laptop. She added words to describe a character and feelings that were new and looked beautiful in writing. She had written her first book 'I can't do this' in her room.

When she got tired of typing, she stretched her hands and moved out of the chair. She unlocked her bedroom door and walked down the hallway to the stairs leading to the kitchen. The house is awfully quiet, she thought as she jumped the steps two at a time. She wound her way through the dark corridors to the kitchen only to be halted by the dark figure in the kitchen. She picked a broom stick from the closet and careened it at the head of the intruder.

"Ouch", a male voice cried out in pain. The voice was familiar. She switched on the light bulb in the kitchen and gasped at the sight before her.

"What are you doing here?" she said giving him a death glare before stepping to the side getting water from the fridge.

" Oh yeah? Are you kidding me? I am a burglar. " he said as he leaned over the counter for a towel. He had a small scratch on the side of his head just below the ear. He hissed as he pressed it on the swollen flesh.