Stolen Voices ✓

August 25th

and in the end

all I learned

was how to be strong

alone.

- anonymous

August 25th:

Brown. Such a pure, dejected color.

Mara doesn't remember until now how much she misses that eye color. Sure, brown eyes are considered plain by society's beauty standards. But his eyes are practically amber brown, in the sunlight, so large, they showcase everything he is feeling. As if you are viewing a movie within his irises, they draw you into their acquisition, drowning you in its sentiment.

Mara has missed those brown eyes so much that she forgot how to swim in them. Figuratively and literally drowning, she spits out the ice water she had been drinking, choking on the few freezing drops that trace her throat.

Her whole body stiffens upon seeing Elias saunter into her bedroom stay, Mara pacifically reading a book in the corner. She isn't really reading whatever book it was, more scanning over the words, forgetting the past line she just stared at. It is visitors day, and her siblings had come to see her, sufficient to make her head hurt plenty. Now her body seems to fail upon seeing Elias, Mara figures her eyes must be playing tricks on her.

Blinking leisurely, she glances back at the blending words of her book, shaking her head. As if she can possibly free him with her mind. That isn't her Elias standing in the doorway to her room, just her imagination. Her wicked artistry likes to set her heart into a rampage. Her mind even treasures the distinct smell of his soap.

"Wow, that was rude," that well-known voice graces her eardrums, her head shooting upwards to meet his eyes again. A torrent of emotions is swirling in their pit as he leans against the open door frame, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Seriously, you look so real," Mara shakes her head, whispering to herself, pinching her eyes shut. When she blinks them back open, the dotted haze clearing, he is still there.

"That's because I am," he laughs, taking a step into her room. She holds her hand up between them, stopping him in his tracks. His shoes, scuffing against the linoleum flooring, his scent almost overpowering now as her head grows dizzy, nibbling her lip.

"No, you're not," she shakes her head, a tendril of pinned-up blonde curls falling down to her face. She continues to gawk at him, towering over her as he stalks towards her slowly, she sinks deeper into the chair. The plush fabric against her arms as she braces herself against it, he hovers over her now.

"Oh really? If I'm not real, then how can I do this?" His palm comes to the side of her face, his thumb holding up her jaw. Elias brushes his lips over hers once, twice, before driving harder, devouring her taste. He doesn't realize how much he missed it as he waves over her, her back pressed against the chair.

She is looking up at him as he dragged his lips away, their pinkish color bruised darker. Her fingertips come to her lips in the absence of pressure, a lingering static against her skin. She is burning inside, her body wanting to fall back into him like nothing happened, while her mind tells her to run.

"Sorry, I should have asked," Elias says, running his hands through his growing hair. His eyes are merciful, a bashful smile playing on his lips.

Mara shakes her head, confused, a sudden flood of emotions taking over logic. Her eyes become glassy, her lip trembling as she stares at him with her heart on her sleeve. A pure tear trailing down her face, Mara is so tired of crying all the time. Her chest, constricting with so much grief that she lets out a depthless breath, gasping for air like a fish.