Page 52 of Eyes Like Angel
Her rough hand and jagged nails shoved me on the bosom, then my shoulder blade again.
“Get the fuck away from her,” the girl with Neapolitan highlights warned.
Again, and again, each time her mouth gaped forming in harsh-sounding syllables to strangle my choke and tears prickling, and a yielded sigh.
“I would never be friends with someone like you; you’re too disgusting to be around. Even if you’re the last person on Earth, I’d rather eat shit than talking to you. Adrian doesn’t want to say this, but he doesn’t want you here, either. I know what he wants, and I know that he doesn’t plan on being friends with a dumb virgin like you. He brought you here because he felt sorry for you, but seeing this…I don’t think he’ll ever invite you again. Not in a million years. So I suggest you turn around and don’t come back. So fuck off! You belong in the basement. Let’s face it,Eva, nobody likes you. Since nobody wants to say it, I have to. I have to be the hero. I have to be the good guy. So go, and don’t even bother to come back. You don’t belong here.”
Emily was in an unstoppable moment in her spotlight.
Her dark eyes narrowed at me, expecting me to concede with grace.
In the mentions of the Bible, a woman’s wrath wasn’t meant to be underestimated.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, it said.
Emily’s wrath has been scorned.
When the girl pushed Emily back, she huffed and warned her again, but Emily eyed on me, waiting for me to fade like a white noise.
Thus, I took steps back, and retreated, not waiting for Adrian’s return and the anticipation on gaining experience, one which I’ll never obtain.
17
Eva
Walking on a darkened road, on a winding road, leading my way back a trail to the thick trees and untouched grass lined up on each side on the route I’ve taken in. No goodbyes, no happiness and no meaningful conversations to be discussed with the person who invited me at the party at his farm behind his glamourous manor.
I shouldn’t be weeping, weeping until I got back in my home, my darkened attic, where it’ll embrace me back with familiarity. My legs wobbled, my joints troubled reaching back to my home, but I went on as my legs surrendered in blood, sweat and tears. I kept going, road after road, block after block.
Why was I weeping? The Divine family had often told me that crying is for the weak and for lost little girls.
“What was the point of having a hug with a grown woman like you,” Sister Joanne told me. “You’re so fucking embarrassing, thinking that your crying would be solved with someone’s hug. Instead of being so pathetic with your ugly tears, pray to God instead. Maybe he could cure your fucked up mind for once.”
Her laughter pounded in my ears, provoking my tears to leak and drop on a concrete floor.
With my purple dress on, the dress I have found, I lay myself to sleep, hugging the bag—the stuff I packed—praying to God, hoping to keep the Devil and its foolish work off of me, promising myself not to go back to their estate.
18
Adrian
By the time I headed back outside, after being cornered by my friends, my eyes searched for her—for Eva. But she was nowhere to seen, and nowhere to spot, and only caught a glimpsed of Miss Curtis wearing a sardonic smug engraved on her face.
“Where is she?” I asked her with urgency and wavered tone.
Miss Curtis glued on the side, staring at the empty road with her arms crossed and a smirk curled to her thin lips, widely-exciting posture she carried on her backside.
“Don’t know. It looks like she got bored of you from waiting. She’s such a nervous little girl, isn’t she? She always stayed where she belongs like a dumb beaten dog,” she replied cryptically, a hint of pride etched across her face.
My fists clenched, not knowing why she would say that.
“Look, I gotta go,” I expressed flatly, without saying my goodbyes to her, not remembering on giving her the invitation, and went back at the party with my buddies, who were slightly apprehensive at my sudden mood change.
“Dude, what’s gotten into you,” one of my friends said out loud, music was blasting in and the other guests at the barn right next room were in their own world, having a shindig, having partners danced to one another.
“I don’t know. Have you seen her, by the way? She’s wearing a nun outfit,” I described Eva to my friends.
But, it was quite a change. I don’t think she was wearing a nun getup. Rather, she’s wearing a beautiful dress, reminding me of the historical times.
