Hunger: Chapter One

ANGEL1

I’ve been here before. I knew that. I’ve been here one too many times. Ever since I was a little girl I knew this place—this hideous and lifeless place. I’ve been haunted by its memories for years, and no matter how much I tried to escape it, it finds its way back to me.2

My feet felt the cold grass beneath it. Cold was the only thing I could feel here—nothing but icy grief. It was sickening. I took a deep breath and smelled the scent of the earth that filled the air. It was all too familiar. 3

My eyes stared at the grey house in front of me. It didn’t used to be grey. It was probably because that was how I remembered it—ugly. I hated this place. This was a cursed ground. Nothing good ever takes place here.4

I waited. I knew what was going to happen next. Then suddenly as if on queue, I heard a loud shattering sound. It didn’t surprise me. It had happened too many times, and I was used to it. Being here felt almost tiresome.5

The darkness didn’t bother me as I stepped inside the glass door. The lights never came on in this house. Ever since I was five, I never remembered the light coming back. Everything was just wrapped in darkness.6

My feet made their way up the stairs. I didn’t bother hurrying. I already knew every single incident that was going to happen. My fingers traced on the small frames on the wall and I stopped on the biggest one. My eyes gazed into an image of a child. Her eyes looked out brightly at me. Her smile was wide having no hint bitterness. She was very happy, young, and innocent.7

Her name was Dawn White. She was me—back when everything was still…normal. I made my way down the hall and in front of a familiar, white door. The door seemed smaller now though. I was younger the first time I stood here like this—much shorter.8

Without hesitation, I reached for the doorknob. I knew too well what will happen next. I didn’t bother listening to the faint sounds. I knew they were there—always there. Instantly, there was a loud thud that came from downstairs. 9

Right on time. I thought.10

A few moments passed and the sound of the car engine roared to life. I sighed. I didn’t have to look out the window to see who it was. I already knew. Even if I looked out, the scene wouldn’t change. Bill White—my father, would still be in that car driving away.11

I twisted the knob, already knowing what’s behind it. Nostalgia suddenly consumed me and I cringed. This house used to be so beautiful to me. I couldn’t help longing for those warm days, back when what welcomed me behind this door were just smiles. But this was something I didn’t want to feel, because I knew, nothing can change the past. The colors will never come back. My mother, Donna, would still be sprawled on her bedroom floor with shattered glass surrounding her as I had remembered twelve years ago. 12

I pushed the door open, not as gentle as the last time. My eyes fell on the broken-glass-covered floor and I frowned. Donna wasn’t there. I glanced up, scanning the room for a sign of her but there was no one there.13

“Mom?” I called. It’s been years since I spoke anything in that house—or even called Donna ‘mom’. I never imagined that I would need to. After all, this had happened before, and Donna hasn’t been really my ‘mom’ for a long while. 14

But this was unfamiliar. A change in the scene. Something I wasn’t prepared for.15

It didn’t surprise me though, when no one answered my call. At least, that part of the scene didn’t change. But I couldn’t say I was relieved, I knew this change meant something was wrong. I didn’t like it. The familiar feeling of anxiousness was already creeping under my skin. I mentally tried to shake it off.16

My feet moved forward into the room, not forgetting the glass mines on the pale, brown carpet. I carefully made my way to Donna’s bathroom, only to be welcomed by emptiness. Where could she be? I wondered. 17

Then I heard a faint laugh—something I haven’t heard in this house for a long time. The voice sounded familiar.18

Donna.19

I walked out the room trying to listen intently for the source of the sound. I was having difficulty organizing my thoughts. But only one question remained in my head: What was happening here? My mind couldn’t keep up. This wasn’t how it happened. This wasn’t supposed to happen. 20

There was another laugh and it sounded like it came from downstairs. I made my way through the dark hallway, then down the staircase. I had to hold onto the railing. I wasn’t used to going down these stairs, and I could hardly see the steps. The scene would usually end when I open the door. I couldn’t understand why it changed.21

It was strange. I never anticipated this scene. I was so sure of the outcome. I was completely ready for it. But now I was left to solve this annoying puzzle. I felt my blood boil thinking about the way this house mocked me. I considered burning it down, but I knew it would be whole again when I get back. 22

The laughter sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. I never thought I would ever go in there again. I pushed the door open, eager to solve the mystery behind my mother’s laughter but then stopped short. At first I was confused, seeing two familiar faces standing by the counter. But then it faded as my eyes landed on my mother’s face.23

Donna stared at me, her eyes twinkling, though I couldn’t help feeling that there was something strange about the way she was looking at me. It took me a minute to realize that she wasn’t staring at me at all—she was looking past me. 24

I traced her gaze as I looked over my shoulder, but I couldn’t see anything interesting there, just our backyard in the dark. What could she possibly see out there? Just then I realized that the kitchen light was on. 25

A first. I thought. 26

I looked back at Donna. Then I noticed—and I couldn’t believe I didn’t see this from the beginning. It wasn’t just her eyes that seemed oddly different from my memories; it was her entirely. She was glowing. She looked very…happy. 27

I was surprised at this conclusion, but I was relieved with the thought that this scene would not end up badly. More importantly, Donna wasn’t hurt. 28

Donna had no traces of cuts or bruises; there were no blood stains; no puffy eyes and tear-soaked cheeks. Donna was, at that moment, as beautiful as I remembered her before everything good had disappeared. She looked so young. She looked like my mother.29

A pair of strong arms wrapped around Donna, and my gaze immediately fell on the face of the man standing next to her. He was tall, heavy, and looked a lot older than my mother. His pale green eyes stared at Donna with delight, as her fingers played with his thick grey beard. He was my picture of Santa Claus.30

Henry.31

I was surprised to see him here. He had never stepped inside this house before—nor does he even know about this place. Yet there he was, standing in front of me, embracing my beautiful mother. 32

They both had blissful looks on their faces. It pleased me that they seemed content, though I cannot ignore the feeling that there was something strangely wrong with this scene. An unplaced piece of puzzle was missing. The key to give sense to what I was witnessing.33

Then it hit me. Henry Turner, my mother’s second husband, was dead. He died in some freak accident over a construction site he was working in. He couldn’t possibly be the same Henry I was seeing at that moment. 34

Donna took it pretty bad—far worse than when Bill left. That’s why it was odd for me to see him here, and to see Donna so happy and content with him. He can’t be here—he can’t be real. 35

This wasn’t how I remembered things. Donna was awfully depressed the last time I saw her, because she knew Henry was dead. And that man next to her wasn’t her husband—he wasn’t Henry. How could she not see that this whole scene was a lie?36

Then, as if in sync with my revelation, Donna’s smile faded—Henry’s too. To my horror, I watched as Henry’s skin changed color. His tanned shade slowly turned pale until it was white, draining any sign of blood from his face. His color continued to fade until no warmth could be seen on them. Then the ghostly white color started to turn grey, and his skin started to wrinkle.37

I gasped. His entire body was shriveling fast. It was as if his flesh was being dried up under his skin—like…he was rotting. My stomach turned from the horrid sight. Although there wasn’t any foul smell emanating from his body, I couldn’t help feeling sick.38

My eyes quickly shifted to Donna. To my shock, her face—her beautiful face, was now back to the way it looked twelve years ago. Cuts, bruises, and blood were there. Her eyes were puffy, and tears were streaming down her cheeks.39

Henry’s dried up body was now in the same shade as coal. I couldn’t even recognize him. I felt my breath quickened as fear from the past instantly enveloped me. Donna shouldn’t see this, I told myself. I had to protect her from this.40

Henry’s remains slowly crumbled onto the floor. There was nothing left of him but ashes. I rushed over to Donna and quickly wrapped my arms around her.41

“It’s okay,” I said under my breath rubbing her back. “I’m here. It’s okay.”42

I wasn’t sure if it was her I was saying those words to. I felt like I needed to hear them too; to assure myself that things will be fine. But Donna didn’t seem to move. She was still. Maybe she was in shock.43

I held her more tightly, as I rubbed her back faster. “It’s okay,” I kept repeating. I had to believe it was going to be okay; it had to be—for Donna.44

But Donna didn’t move. I couldn’t hear anything from her, not even a sniff. Then I realized that her body felt cold, so I wrapped both arms around her to keep her warm. But her body felt stiff.45

“Donna?” I said as I loosened my arm. No response.46

There was a sudden pain in my chest—a strong and heavy pain. I knew I should step away from her. I couldn’t explain it, but I felt as if I already knew what was wrong, and I was just denying its truth. 47

I was afraid. I didn’t understand why such dread had come over me. It was as if the thought of something worse than this scene was revealing itself to me. I gasped as the pain grew stronger.48

“Donna,” I said nervously under my breath. It was beginning to be difficult for me to breathe. She still didn’t answer. “Donna?” My voice trembled. I could feel the tears coming.49

I gulped.50

Slowly, I allowed my arm to drop to my sides, and I gently took a step back with my eyes down. It all happened so quickly. The first thing I saw were her feet, they were dark. My head immediately shot up and a scream escaped my throat at the sight of Donna’s dried, ashy face. “Mom!”51

My eyes shot open. Darkness welcomed my sight. A few seconds later, my eyes met the ceiling. I realized then that I was in my room. I gasped for air as cold sweat with warm tears flowed down my face. I quickly sat upright, and cautiously looked around in the darkness. 52

Moonlight filtered through my window, giving me the chance to see the end of my bed where I had some of my books piled up. Then my eyes moved to the floor. The clothes I wore earlier were still scattered on it. The sight of them should’ve calmed me down, reassured me that I was safe; I should’ve felt relieved, but I couldn’t think clearly.53

Then suddenly, I realized I couldn’t fully breathe. I winced, feeling a heavy pain in my chest. It was as if my heart was being crushed. I gasped for more air as my body automatically curled up. I hugged my knees as I felt myself rock back and forth. 54

Tears continued to flow from my eyes, blurring my vision. The fear was still there. I couldn’t shake it. I couldn’t restrain my emotions, they were unbearable. There was a lump forming in my throat making it more difficult for me to breathe. I kept hearing my faint voice every time I choked, fighting each sob.55

I shouldn't be this upset, but I couldn't control myself. I kept crying as my mind drifted off to the thoughts and images in my head. They seemed so real. Even though I knew for myself that they’re not—that they didn't happen, I still couldn’t hold back my tears. 56

It was just a nightmare. I reminded myself.57

I wanted to scream, somehow thinking that it would release me from the pain in my chest. But the lump was still in my throat, and I couldn't seem to swallow it down. I couldn't stop crying. But maybe I didn't want to—maybe I needed to feel vulnerable—to let everything out. 58

I wanted to escape from the thoughts that were screaming at me, and crying was the best thing I could do to deal with them. I felt so weak and pitiful but I didn't care at the moment. I continued to hug my knees and kept rocking. It will soon be over. I told myself. The pain will soon go away. At least I hoped it would.59

60


Morning felt worse than night. The bright sunlight stung my slightly puffy eyes. It’s been months since I cried that much and I had sworn that I wouldn’t allow myself to be that weak again. I wanted to kick myself for giving in so easily. But three hours ago, I had a fairly good excuse. I was in pain.61

Then I convinced myself that it wasn’t a good enough excuse to exhibit such vulnerability. I could never let Donna see any weakness from me. She needed me to be strong for her, so she could hold on.62

I studied myself in the mirror, and grimaced at the sight. My face had caused Donna a lot of pain for a couple of years after Bill left. I could see the agony on her face every time she looked at me. 63

First of all, there were my eyes—the only thing noticeable about me. They had a rich, sapphire-blue shade. My best friend, Amber Clarke, described them as hypnotic, but they were nothing but a burden to me. They were Bill’s eyes. 64

Then there was my face—my brows, my nose, my mouth. Everything about me reminds her of Bill, with the exception of the shade of my hair. Bill had ash blonde hair. I was fortunate enough to inherit Donna’s dark, brown locks. I just wish I got her curls too. But mine was straight and thick—just like Bill’s.65

After my father left, I tried my best not to do anything much around Donna. She used to say that I was like Bill in every way. Even the way I talk, laugh, and smile was the same as Bill’s. I hated myself for that. I didn’t want to be the one to remind her of her awful past with my father. I spent my years trying not to be like him so Donna could forget, but I still had his face. I was the female version of Bill White and there was no escaping that.66

I was very thankful when she met Henry. I was nine years old at the time. She finally managed to get over Bill after that and I was able to stay around her more. She became mom again after all those years. I didn’t mind taking care of things though, but sometimes it becomes so tiresome, especially when you’re just a child. 67

After a few years, they decided to get married. Donna was very happy and I was too. They got married when I was twelve. I was so glad that I didn’t even mind putting on that stupid pink dress that everyone was forcing me to wear at their wedding. Henry brought the colors back to my mother’s life, and my mother brought them back to mine. We were happy—a family and everything else was irrelevant.68

It didn’t take long before they decided to have a new addition to the White-Turner household. I had no problem with the idea so long as my mother wanted it. Donna became pregnant a year after they got married. We were all excited about it. 69

Henry decided to look for a bigger space to live. We moved to a two-level, four-bedroom house in Port Orchard; a city located in the Kitsap county of Washington. Again, the change didn’t matter to me. What was important was my family’s happiness.70

I helped Henry decorate the baby room. We weren’t sure if it would be a boy or a girl, so we decided to paint the wall pale yellow. Donna wanted another girl and so did I. I liked the idea of having a little sister. 71

We painted my room lavender. Donna picked that color. She was concerned that I didn’t seem girly enough. I would smile every time I remembered that. I was glad that my mother still cared enough to notice my interests. Being girly wasn’t something I was good at.72

Donna didn’t mind moving. She’d pretty much go anywhere Henry was. They were crazy about each other, and I was just glad that Henry was there to keep my mother happy. I was able to let go of my worries and just be a kid again.73

But like everything else in this world, they all change—and life never played fair. Such euphoric feelings don’t linger long—not for me anyway. 74

It was summer. Donna was three and a half months pregnant when the complications manifested. She was beginning to have problems with the fetus. The doctor said that she won’t be able to handle her pregnancy—not now, not ever. Her body wasn’t capable of conceiving another child.75

A week later, she lost the baby. It broke her heart, and mine too. I would love to have a younger brother or sister. But fate had other plans.76

Donna fell into a deep depression. I knew how badly she wanted to have another child—especially because that child would be Henry’s. I kept thinking why life was playing this cruel joke on her. Why did she have to suffer so much?77

I wanted to be in her place to take the pain out of her heart, but I couldn’t do much for her. Though I had always been there by her side, I’ve never lost the feeling of being powerless. Again, I was thankful that Henry was there to comfort her, though it bothered me that I wasn’t at all helpful to my mother. Donna didn’t need me, she needed Henry. I felt a tinge of jealousy over it, but I knew better not to let it get to me. Henry made Donna happy. He would help her get through this. That was all that mattered.78

I was a bit concerned though. I wasn’t sure how Henry assessed the entire situation. My mother cannot give him a child. It made me wonder if this would change their relationship. I couldn’t imagine how Donna would accept the idea of Henry leaving her. I didn’t want her to go through that mess again, but nonetheless I shouldn’t let my guard down. 79

I tried not to let the idea get to me. I knew Henry was a good man, and he always meant well. He was exactly what Donna needed, and if somehow things went bad, I would be ready to step in his place the same way I did with Bill.80

But Henry never left. He loved my mother even more. He stayed with her and kept her strong. My respect for him strengthened, and I was very much convinced that Donna had found the right man to love her. This would be the man I could see her growing old with. He would be the man taking care of her when I leave for college and when I eventually decide to have my own family. 81

After a few months, Donna finally got over her loss, and everything went back to normal. We were happy again. Henry found a way to keep Donna preoccupied so she won’t think much of the baby. Eventually, it didn’t matter to her anymore and the colors finally remained. But it didn’t last long.82

Six months ago, Henry died, along with all the colors he brought, including mine. Donna was of course, heartbroken. A person could only take so much loss in one lifetime, and only the strongest makes it. She was never the same. I feared that she would never recover—that I would lose her forever. That’s why it was crucial for me to stay strong. I needed to be strong enough for the two of us, for Donna’s sake.83

Donna was still asleep when I left for school. I already prepared her breakfast and left her a note for when she wakes up, though I knew she wouldn’t bother to read it. Her usual morning routine consists of mostly staring into space, frequently lost in her memories. I sometimes wondered what they were about. I could never really tell which memory bothered her the most—the good ones or the nightmares. For me it was both, but I usually try to forget. I didn’t want to dwell too much in the past. I might break down too if I did. But Donna couldn’t see the danger she’s putting herself into when she decided to remain with our ghosts. And when I leave for school, I would always have this fear in me. The fear that when I come back home, there will be no one there left but me.84

I was always early for school. I needed the extra time to study to maintain my scholarship. When Henry died, he left everything to my mother. It was more than enough for us to get by. But Donna wasn’t really concerned about such things. The only thing she wanted was Henry. But she knew as much as I that he’s never coming back.85

We were able to keep the house and I was still able to go to school, but I wasn’t really sure how long it will last. I didn’t want to use up Henry’s fortune. I wanted it set aside for when we really needed it. So I tried my best to lessen the expenses and use my own money as much as I can. 86

Studying a lot didn’t bother me like most of the other kids. It kept my mind off my problems. It was my escape—a period of relaxation. Strangely enough, I almost find it pleasurable. Keeping me busy was better than submitting to my sufferings; I just wish Donna thought the same.87

I spent most of my before-school mornings in the library. It was a comforting place. I felt like nothing could ever bother me there. The soft whispers of students and rustling pages from books sounded like a harmonious melody to me, and I felt pleasure from this little piece of paradise that I’ve reserved for myself.88

I found my usual oak table in the corner of the room. I chose that spot specifically because it was facing the wall. It kept me from any distractions for when I really needed to concentrate.89

I had advanced Chemistry in an hour, so I decided to read on my notes. I allowed my bag to slip down beside my chair as I took out my notebook. I ran my eyes through my awful handwriting and then went back to the previous page and read everything again. 90

Though I study hard, I’m not any smarter than the rest of the kids in school. Like most kids, I also had difficulty keeping up with some of my classes, but I refused to allow something as inferior as my intellectual capacity to hinder me. This kind of struggle was nothing compared to what I’ve been through with my family. Fortunately, my diligence paid off and I was able to take advance classes and get a scholarship. I felt proud of myself for this petty achievement; it made me feel useful for once. 91

When I was done reading, I studied my homework. I was still unsure whether I got all of the answers correct, though I couldn’t see any other possible resolve to support the problem. I grimaced at the thought of Mrs. Thatcher questioning me to prove my equations correct.92

I glanced at my watch and realized that I had only fifteen minutes left before school starts, so I checked my notes for other homework that were scheduled for submission this week. I remembered that I needed to write an essay for my English class that was due on Thursday. I flipped my notes to where I wrote my assigned reading list, and tried to memorize each one. I stuffed my notebook back in my bag once I was done and headed for the shelves.93

I took a deep breath, allowing the warm smell emanating from the books to enter my nostrils. It was heavy to breathe in though, because of all the dust. It was almost cozy being there. I sometimes wish that I could stay in this piece of sanctuary my mind had created for me, but I constantly reminded myself not to get too comfortable. I didn’t want to completely forget my sole responsibility; I couldn’t allow myself to forget about Donna. 94

I found my way to the Literature section, one of my favorites. My fingers scanned through each book, knowing most of their titles and where they sat, until I found what I was looking for. Edith Wharton’s The Age of Innocence was first on my reading list. 95

I traced my finger on the spine of the worn-out book before pulling it out of the shelf. I’ve read it before though, when I had some free time over the summer. I didn’t like it much; the story seemed to give me the impression of pure selfishness rather than love. But the true reason why I disliked it was because it portrayed the reality of ordinary affairs between couples. It implied the idea that love, in a romantic relationship, had its limits; that it could change or completely disappear. 96

I was scanning through the pages of the novel when something caught my eye. The large book next to Wharton’s on the shelf tilted slightly to the empty space I made. There was something about the way it looked that told me that it didn’t belong there.97

I couldn’t really say what caught my interest when I saw it. Maybe it was its color of coal black that emanated a sense of mystery. Maybe it was its aged hardbound cover—it looked like an antique. Or maybe it was the fact that it didn’t have a name, but rather a symbol engraved deeply in gold just below its spine. It was a five-pointed star made up of five straight lines within a circle. I remembered coming across that symbol before. I thought hard to recall its name but to no avail.98

I took the book and set Wharton back in its place. I sat on the floor with my back leaning against the shelf, and I flipped the cover open. My eyes fell on the big black letters that welcomed me on the first page. 99

“Spells, Rituals, and Wicca,” I mumbled to myself. My eyes dropped below the title to search for the author’s name. Theodore Griffin. It read. 100

I flipped to the next page, scanning the introduction. Then I turned to another. The book emitted a strange smell that came close to the scent of wet moss. I couldn’t tell if it displeased me or not, but as I scanned the pages and saw the imaginative printed words and illustrations, it didn’t matter. I suddenly felt that the book deserved respect for its antiquity. A few words caught my eye as I quickly observed some random pages: circle, coven, magic, power, witchcraft. 101

I raised a brow with sudden disbelief. I played the words in my head repeatedly, and then stopped at the very last one.102

Witchcraft? 103

I immediately imagined ugly women with green skin and pointy hats, riding on broomsticks. There was no such thing, right? 104

I tried to wrap my head around the idea, forcing myself to keep an open mind. Then I scanned the pages again. The book mostly contained spells, and some brief history about Wicca. There were several procedures in performing rituals to make spells work. Most required a lot of things like herbs and different colored candles. Then there were other materials that I didn’t know, like runes and scrying mirrors.105

Did these things really work? I couldn’t imagine people would actually believe something so unreal as magic. This was something that only existed in fairytales and movies. It wasn’t meant to be taken seriously. Yet as I studied the book in my hands, I’ve realized that this was probably written even before movies were invented. People back then who were suspected to be witches were burned. This ancient book probably served for those people who strongly believed in it. However, real magic doesn’t exist in my time; it was probably the same in the olden periods.106

I stood up closing the book and brushed away any thoughts about the matter. I was about to place it back on the shelf but then I paused halfway. I looked at it in my hand, and I couldn’t deny the curiosity building up inside me. There was something more about this book; a dark mystery waiting to be discovered. My mind was nagging me to read more.107

“Interesting choice,” a voice behind me said.108

I gasped as I quickly spun around—stunned, losing my grip of the antique literature. I heard the thud when it hit the floor, and I silently hoped that it didn’t catch the librarian’s attention.109

The first thing I saw were his eyes—his cold, steel, grey eyes. They were staring at me with subtle intensity, studying my face. I shivered as I gazed back in them, feeling myself drown in their icy depth.110

I blinked a few times to escape my trance, as I tried to recognize the stranger before me. I stared in awe as my vision shifted to his face. I suddenly felt myself holding my breath at the sight of him. He was beautiful—no, not just beautiful—he was strikingly gorgeous. 111

I blinked again, suddenly unsure of the accuracy of my eyesight. I wondered if I was just imagining him. He didn’t seem real, but his figure remained in front of me. Clearly, I’ve never seen him before, and I was certain that he didn’t go to this school. He looked like someone you would only see in magazines, or in movies—a picture of envious perfection. What was he doing in a place like this?112

I noticed that I had my head up to him. He was tall and slightly muscular. My eyes traced over to his short, dark hair that rested neatly on one side, with the exception of a few thin locks that flowed down to his forehead and ending just above his lids. Then my gaze fell onto his thick eyebrows, following down to those intense, and enchanting grey eyes. I tried not to stare in them though. I was afraid of being engulfed in another deep arctic trance. Was this what Amber meant by hypnotic? Does she experience the same sensation of drowning when she looks into my eyes? I doubted it. My eyes could never measure up to the mirror of perfection I see in front of me. 113

I tried to push the thought away as my eyes quickly shifted onto his pale skin. He was as pale as I was. I wondered if he shared my distaste of any outdoor avocation. Or maybe he’s from a sunless part of the continent. I stopped myself from thinking of further explanation. 114

My sight landed onto his flawlessly-shaped nose and then to his full, pink lips and traced down onto his chiseled jaw. My body tensed a little. I tried not to think of anything when I caught sight of his lips. I suddenly felt my cheeks burned as I blocked my thoughts, but my mind was having difficulty concentrating. I was utterly in awe of his physical magnificence that my mind decided to work on its own. Then I heard him clear his throat.115

I realized I haven’t really said anything yet. His eyes were looking at me expectantly, and he seemed to be holding back a smile. I suddenly felt the blood drained from my face as my mind grasped on how ridiculous my expression must have been. I groaned mentally. I must have looked like an ogling idiot.116

I tried to open my mouth to respond but I still couldn’t sum up the strength to say anything. My brain had lost its ability to form intelligent words at the moment. His beauty was too overwhelming. What was wrong with me? I felt absolutely absurd of my current situation that I had the sudden urge to laugh at myself, but my muscles won’t cooperate. Even my mind seemed to have run away from me. Then my head started to feel light.117

He frowned as he took a step closer to me. He studied my expression for a bit. “You okay?” he said failing to hide his amusement. He pressed his lips together forcing himself not to smile. Then he spoke again. “Um…you’re kind of turning purple.”118

Then I remembered I was holding my breath. I immediately exhaled and I heard him chuckle. Annoyed, I shot him a dirty look but his shoulder continued to shake as he suppressed his laughter. I felt myself holding my breath again as I saw the delighted look on his face. My irritation completely diminished. I couldn’t imagine that he could get any more beautiful, but his smile made his beauty almost blinding. Was he human? I was finding it difficult to believe that such beauty could exist. Not even movie stars or super models could compare to his utterly majestic qualities.119

His laughter finally died but his eyes continued to twinkle with pleasure. He leaned down and reached for the big black book on the floor, and then held it up to me.120

A half-smile crossed his face. “You don’t look like the kind of girl who would be interested in something like this.”121

I couldn’t explain what happened next after he spoke those words. The air unexpectedly felt heavy as I breathed. I didn’t know why but I suddenly felt irritated of him again—more than necessary this time. There was an unexplainable nagging feeling at the back of my mind that implied something displeasing about him—though I couldn’t imagine it be possible, but my intuition cautioned me to beware. But I couldn’t see the reason behind such notions.122

“You’re right,” I said through my teeth. I was surprised at the hint of anger in my tone.123

His brows rose, clearly implying that my kind of reaction was unexpected. I was more surprised than he was though. I couldn’t figure out what was making me so mad. 124

His face softened as he leaned closer. A faint gasp escaped my lips as his face came near to about ten inches from mine. I felt my heart flutter as I got a closer look of his perfect beauty. I was relieved when he didn’t seem to notice, though my flaming red cheeks probably gave me away, and I immediately felt dread at the thought of it. Stupid teenage hormones! Stop making me feel weird. But my body wouldn’t obey me. It continued to boil unfamiliar sensations that were causing displeasure to my stomach. That can’t be good.125

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I take this?” he asked. His deep, sweet, velvety voice played in my ear, and my heartbeat continued to rise. I rolled my hands into fists, fighting the uncontrollable emotion pulsing through me.126

I couldn’t look him in the eye, nor stand to see his face. I was afraid that I might forget to breathe and just pass out if I even considered the thought. My eyes were blinking double time as my heart skipped another beat. I nodded my head quickly to conceal my anxiousness. 127

I saw his lips curved into a smile from the corner of my eye. The sight of it made my breath stop. It was too late when I realized that I made very bad move. I lost grip of my thoughts and my mind completely took off to different pictures of every possible feat that I could do with those lips. My fist tightened as I concentrated on thwarting my fantasies from further surfacing in my head. 128

He let out a short laugh as he turned and walked away. Even his walk was perfect, I thought. I watched the back of his dark, grey shirt disappear behind the shelves. The air immediately felt light as I managed to breathe out again. But my mind stayed on him, curious about the mystery behind his presence in this school. Then at the back of my head I wondered if this will be our first and last encounter. He couldn’t possibly be a student here. There’s no way someone like that belonged in this place. I didn’t understand the reasons behind my emotions as I came to realize that thought, but it lingered there. I couldn’t help it. The thought of not seeing him made me feel a little disappointed. I quickly dismissed the idea. I didn’t want to entertain such emotions.129

That was the first time I met a real angel.130