Hearing Anna

ii.xii

THERE IS NOTHING ROMANTIC about having panic attack-esque events go on while being embraced by someone you care deeply about. if anything, it is the most embarrassing thing that has happened to me in years. i still have fucking chills from it.

he left around nine in the morning, right when lisa arrived back from some expedition with her mum in edinburgh for the weekend.

he didn't say a word before leaving, didn't even look me in the eyes.

and i can only assume that it meant he was scared of whatever had manifested in me early this morning and late last night.

"what was with the boy?" lisa said right after he shut the door.

i still haven't answered that question in the three hours since her arrival. she doesn't seem to care enough to badger me about it, so i don't plan on giving her any response. it would be terrible to relive it by relaying it.

i can't bring myself to write the essay, not with the toxicity of my thoughts running the risk of poisoning me. if i think about any of the things that need to go into the paper, the action will make me lose what little control i have.

just the memory of warmth wrapped around my chilled body makes my head spin. elliot is too kind for this mind, for this body. his kindness has made it easier for the effects of the toxins to spread all throughout me, has made me soft.

after an eternity of sitting, motionless and confused, lisa shakes me by the shoulder.

"what is it?" i demand.

"you need to get out of this room for a while."

i roll my eyes. "and why would you believe that?"

"elliot told me you were acting strange."

her words hit me hard. elliot would never call me that, i tell myself, but it's an apparent lie. i was acting as if i was possessed; no normal person would think that anything but strange.

"you've been cooped up in here for a week. we need to have a day out."

it isn't a choice on my part. i know because she grabs my wrist with one hand, gives me my shoulder bag with the other, and pulls me out the door.

i don't like shopping. in fact, it is just one area in which we are polar opposites.

too many people shove past us on the walkways that weave through the streets, which feel oddly familiar. all the storefronts feel like ghosts in my memory, but i dismiss them. if they were important, i would remember what significance they have.

we go into various shoppes, wandering aimlessly through the aisles of clothing in search of something unnamed. i suppose it's meant to be a mindless task to get my mind off of everything, but that's most of what i'm able to think about.

i bump into lisa, having not noticed that she's stopped to gaze into the mess of a clothing rack.

"anything int'resting?" i ask for the fiftieth time since leaving campus.

as opposed to answering me, she pulls a romper out of the mass of clothing. it's a bright yellow, obviously out of season.

"you should try thi -"

"absolutely not."

she rolls her eyes at me as if she hasn't done it a million times before. "it would brighten you up, and it would really complement your eye color."

"i refuse."

"come on, just to see." she drags me toward the women's fitting room in the back, never pausing until we are at a door. i can't even get a breath in before she tosses the clothing piece over my shoulder and shoves me into the dressing room. "come on out once you have it on, yeah?" she shouts through the door. i only grumble in response.

i realise as i strip down that the shoppe is as cold as hades. i don't mind it much, but seeing as the romper was on a summer clearance rack, i'm not so thrilled to try it on.

it's so damn yellow, but i don't even look into the mirror before unlocking the door to show lisa.

"can i take it off yet?"

she only grins. "it looks so good," she swoons.

i look away from her for a moment, glance into the mirror, which reflects an image of me that may have hopped off of a magazine cover. but in the far back of the reflection is a man.

i freeze. his eyes meet mine, then drift a little lower, and a little lower.

i dart into the fitting room again, closing the door behind me, and sit on the bench. grit my teeth until the image is gone.

but it doesn't disappear.

i can still see myself in the full-length mirror, my legs as uncovered and unprotected as my arms. for anyone and everyone to see.

he saw them again.

the first time was torture.

this time felt like murder.