Page 45 of Eyes Like Angel
Unholy things I could think of each time she bends down on all fours, scrubbing the stubborn stains and washes the floor with a mop, my consciousness deliberately looking at her. Unholy things I wanted to have her show her skin and what her hands felt like touching me. But she’s a nun, not a girl I regularly hang out with. But with Eva’s presence, the house was oddly calming.
And when she snooped into my room, reading the poetries I’ve written about her and my drawing of her, my excitement shot through the roof, but even more ecstatic when she doesn’t question me, and gazed at me, something I couldn’t place. But I admire how she cleaned my room. I couldn’t resist; ifI have a clean room, she wouldn’t bother touching it, so I messed it up on purpose so she would come in. Every single one of my belongings has been touched by her, and I never felt happier!
Oh, why must I have these nasty thoughts to a nun who I only spoke three times—in Thanksgiving and the day when she came here as a housekeeper and when she had my room spotless?
Surely someone knows about her, right? But she doesn’t seem the type to be talkative and is good at following orders, like Bjorn, but there’s something I can’t pinpoint on. She was being driven with order her to follow, while Bjorn was mainly a natural lapdog. She’s devoted to God, as I am devoted to all things pretty and tasteful, but a tinge of…rebellious nature has been resided in her that it wouldn’t reach to a full potential.
After polishing the kitchen tiles, I went up to her, not in front of her, behind her, my stature hovered over her focused self.
Whenever I’m near her, I became possessive, an uncontrollable freak who likes to watch her from behind or whenever she’s asleep or to capture her and had her ways to stick close to me, never run away.
I cleared my throat, hoping she would hear what I have to say.
“Eva, I was thinking,” I began, swallowing my trepidations down in hopes for her to catch my attention.
She pivoted around to face me, slowly but surely, a sullen, terrorizing expression waited for me, her slouching form grew weary from exhaustion, energy drained life from her eyes. She must’ve been having anxiety when I caught her snooping around my room, not that I don’t mind; I thoroughly enjoy her nosy escapade on exploring and touching my stuff.
The words got caught in my throat; my brain malfunctioned in a quick second before readjusting my composure.
“I was thinking that maybe you can stay here and hang out with me for a while,” I suggested, talking like a school boy.
She turned back around, detecting if anyone was spying on us, wondering if trouble will come sooner than later.
“I’m not sure, sir,” she said sheepishly, her hands held the wet rug on her gloved hand. “Mrs. Rivers might get angry if she sees me not finishing up the housekeeping services for tonight.”
I formed a soft snort. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
She bit her lip nervously. “Um, what are we doing then?”
I smiled at her question. “We’re going to watch a movie.”
Her head gently tilted. “Watching?”
“Yeah, just sit on a couch and munch some snacks and drinking a fizzled soda or a slushy while watching the film,” I explained, leaning at a pillar column that the fridge was wedged in between.
Looking behind her, I came to her closely. “She won’t know. Mom’s at the meeting with her friends from this club.”
“What about Mr. Rivers?” she stammered.
“Busy. But don’t mind that,” I said with brief.
She gulped. “I’m not sure if I could...”
“It won’t take long,” I interjected.
As my hand reached out, she flinched, eyes widened in horror, despite I was reaching for the mop to set aside.
“I’ll take care of this. Just go and sit down,” I said to her as gently as possible.
At once, she sat down and waited. By the time I came back, my eyes roamed over her. Her posture was as stiff as a pillar, having her gloved hands neatly tucked over her lap, eyeing me.
For someone who reminded me of a statue, I enjoyed the way she stared at me with her pale emerald eyes, the purple gemstone on her crucifix pendant gleamed from the bright television. I was watching a dating show since nothing interesting came up, since people’s drama was more interesting at its peak. Everything else got boring. I wondered if Eva felt the same as I do. But according to her reactions, it was somehow relieved and terrified, like as if she doesn’t know the concept of television and snacks. Maybe she knows but doesn’t like to admit. But my house wasn’t a confession box.
“So what do you want to watch?” I inquired, lounging with a groan as I plopped down on a couch.
“What?” she stammered, stiffening at my voice.
“What show or movie do you want to watch?” I repeated, waiting patiently.
