Sinfully Imperfect

43. Rust Of Realism & Izles Of Illusion

"Excuse us, guys." Senior Aylwin said as we walked towards his room. Well, it was basically him who had his arms delicately encircling my waist as he led the way. My mind was blank. Only my body moved in response to gravity and friction. I was shut down, too shell-shocked to even heave a sigh.

Senior Aria's words were like lightning bolts striking my ataraxia. Brutally slaughtering every ounce of my sanity. It was agonizing. A broken tale of my devastated state. The blood coursing through my veins seemed like venom constricting everything within me. Swallowing and tearing my own flesh. Feeding on the walls of my emotional dam.

"Fresher." A light tug on my shoulder startled me. I was met by a bemused Senior, peering at me earnestly.

"Yea?" Had I been so absorbed with my thoughts that I had missed that we were standing in his room. The familiar aroma of his haven, like an antidote, mitigated the venomous annihilations endured by my flesh. They acted as soothing ethereal messengers, carrying the essence of immeasurable calmness. Numbing me to the point that I could feel myself ascending from the hellhole of hallucinations.

"Sit." He had me sit and poured me a glass of water. I smiled warmly at him as I took the glass. Not wanting to take chances with my voice and least trusting my own damn self at the time.

After a few minutes passed with the conversation dwelling in silence, he eventually cleared the way, "Are you all right, Fresher?"

I faced him, only to be assaulted with a barrage of agonizing anguish. When I thought I was on my way back, those ravenous hues of oceanic blue clenched my heart yet again, resurrecting the jaded flashes. The misery inflicted on me was nothing compared to what I had already been through. It was considerably more than that. It was savage. Sadistic. Gruesome. You name it.

The way he gazed at me. Oh, Lord... those unfathomable orbs of abyssopelagic were brimming with brilliant beams of concern and compassion. I served as a stark illustration of the aspectabund in front of him. A blatant display of chaotic emotions.

The constant assassination of my ataraxia was beginning to bear fruit in the guise of despair and unrolled tears. Like a stock, they were ready to come out. Everything within me screamed to be unleashed with goddamn ferocity. However, I had the dam in check... but only for the time being.

So, with the utmost glee and bliss, I plastered on the finest smile I could muster. "Of course, I'm all right."

He said nothing. Words became the roughish demands of the night. And then there was another moment of stillness. However, it only lingered for a fleeting moment.

"I'll ask once again. Are you alright, Fresher? "

No! I'm not! Nothing is alright. I'm broken. Devastated in ways one would hate to even think about. I was over. Nothing's left for me.

I wanted to scream those words. Each thought was like a dagger into my chest, ripping my bosom apart into trillions of tattered fragments. Each broken and bruised. Each burnt and ashen. Each painful and dead.

A part of me wanted to say—ah, it's alright. It's nothing I can't handle. I've got this.

Yet another part—please, don't leave me. Hug me tight. Talk to me. Ease my pain. This is too much. It hurts. Everything hurts. Ugh!!! It's frustrating. Why can't it be over? Why again? Why now??

Nerve-wrecking thoughts piled up in mounds for me. Each greedily waiting to be touched by my left sanity.

Pushing them aside yet again, I feigned a smile, laughingly, "Of course, I'm alright. Why do you ask? Even though, it's you who appear to be off. So, are you alright, Senior? " I retorted, aiming to ensnare him in the web of my words.