13 Into my delusions, I keep whispering his name.

ALICE

906,678,907 seconds have passed. Groundkeeper is still not here. The boy has his head lean in my lap. He’s sound asleep. His eyes close and curve and relaxed. Mine is darting, unsettled and consistently can’t resist the urge to stare at his face.

I studied his frame. The sharp angle of his nose, the visible scar at his lower jaw, his long curve eye lashes. His thick eyebrows. He’s like a sculpture full of colors. A statue vibrating with light.

He's innately beautiful.

Unconsciously, my thumb found its way to his plush lips. Chapped, a bit pale, definitely gorgeous. I gulped. Why does his startling electric blue eyes, silver soft hair, small delicate frame, reminds me of Kenneth?

They wear the same expression when they stare at me. An emotion written in a face I can’t untangle what it meant. Everytime I see it, a blossoming flower of discomfort overwhelms my chest. Revealing my vulnerability.

I’m weak. I’m weak against dazzling places. I can’t do anything against warm comfortable bodies snuggling to give me heat. Because it’s a painful reminder. Of what I’ll never have. Of what he could no longer give. Of what I can never touch. Of what I could never again keep close to my chest.

I took up the sketchbook and pencil and rest my elbow in the window sill. Looking at the world where everything is white. I see an apparition of him standing, smiling at me. Telling me to come over and enjoy the snow. Build a snowman and tossed snowballs and roll around the chilly white sheets. Watching with amusement how our feet get buried under the thick pile of accumulated snow.

My heart aches to go over him and hold his nudging hand. Searching for warmth I was deprived to feel for months I spent kneeling alone in his grave. But I knew better. Reality slap me everytime I got caught in my delusions at night.

I know his image is a regular occurrence of me daydreaming. A natural reaction whenever I get so lonely I started to claw on my skin. Dig my nails deeper, tore my flesh apart. Still, it wasn’t enough to satisfy the hollowness in my soul.

The fact that I miss him. That I scream for his name at night, that I grovel in my knees at day searching for his warmth, that I cry and call out for his trace in the rain, hoping that maybe he’ll come back and shield me from getting wet.

My precious Kenneth. My savior Kenneth. My world is made up of 4 walls, one bed, one window, one sketchbook, one pencil…at the center of it all is him, singing and smiling and strumming the guitar as if nothing can ever make him happy than be with me.

My world…is only made up of one name, seven words, two syllables. KENNETH.

I punch my forehead with my sketchbook. Trying to rip out the brain cells that ultimately develop because of him. Everytime I close my eyes I see his face. My tissues were developed because of the meals he cooks for me every morning. My eyes were trained to look for his face the second I wake up since I slept each night with him tucking me under his arms.

My heart can’t stay still if his hands were not entangled in mine. My brain won’t stop panicking if I can’t hear his voice. My body can’t survive if I can’t feel his warmth kissing my skin.

Stay with me, is what I wanted to say. Don’t forsake me, is what I wanted to tell. Don’t give up on me. Because I won’t ever let go. No matter how lonely this life of mine becomes, I will still wait for you.

I believe in miracles. I believe in strings. I believe in people. I believe in you. I will look forward to the day... when I can feel your presence sitting right next to me. This dream…I will hold on to this dream in order to survive.

Since it’s the only dream I have that alleviates my pain.

“Mmm…” My attention snap back to reality when the boy squirms on my lap. He squint at me. Small delicate fingers rubbing his eye. I reach out to stop him.

“Rubbing your eyes can cause irritation.” I said. He blinks at me. Blankly. We stayed in that position. Eyes locking together the air around us became constricted to breathe. Ice enters my lungs.

“Itchy…” he finally said. I put my other hand to his silver soft hair and help him up. The groundkeeper’s cabin, except for the sofa, table with three chairs, and a fireplace, is empty. I can’t see traces of other people living here.

I can’t see pictures, cabinets for clothes even grooming amenities to keep himself clean. I find that weird. The cabin is so small, it has no room for kitchen and bathroom. He has no picture frames, the place is devoid of personal things. I frown.

“What’s wrong?” The boy sits up. He didn’t let go of my hand. His warmth is spreading enstranged warmth to my skin. Scalding my wrist. I look at our connected fingers.

“Thinking about it, I never got to hear your name.” I said. I raised our joint hands. “My name is Alice. You are?”

He hesitated. Under the shade of the meek sun rays, he’s suddenly not the weak fourteen years old kid I watch getting beaten by that man outside. His shoulders straighten up, voicing out the strong proud man he had become.

I gaze at his strong stature, my eyes barely missing the slight curve on his mouth. I stared, deeply captivated. Stuck wondering how he can still smile after all the things he went through. How long can he hold on to that shape? How brave he had been to summon the courage to produce a smile so sweet it could melt a frozen heart…

He inch closer to me. Our faces are one breath away, his eyes are too close and tantalizing I forgot how to breathe. Something is tugging in my gut. The unquenching longing I hold for Kenneth resurface staring at this boy. My heart aches with yearning, body desperate to hold something of his, skin begging to touch more.

Feel more.

.

.

.

At that precise moment, the cabin door burst open and five men in black suit, revolvers on their hand came swarming in and impaled us with stun guns. And then the world blacks out.