Page 145 of 912321

I hate how something so innocent can feel like a confession. I can hear the ocean, the wind, and my own breathing changing. But still, her eyes held mine, and for a moment I forgot every reason I should look away.

“We should go.” The words come out before I can stop them. I look away first, toward the path back up the cliffs. “You need to rest.”

In two days, she will be sitting in front of me again. There will be other people around, other voices, the familiar distance put back into place. She will call me by my title and I will act like this evening was only an evening.

I am still her professor and she is still my student. That’s why I reach for my keys, instead of letting my fingers brush the long strand of hair that is covering her cheek. “Come on.”

She nods, and we start walking. I don’t look back at the rock because I don’t need to.

I know exactly what we left there.

I have spent years forgetting names, faces, and places. It is part of the job. Yet, I already know I will remember the way she looked at that piece of stone, carving proof that one moment of her life had mattered. And I was lucky enough to be a part of that memory.

The moment we arrive back at the building, she turns around, offering me a soft smile and murmurs, “Goodnight, Damien.”

Goodnight, Mireya…

We both walk to our own rooms, but when I arrive at mine, something falls at my feet and I bend to pick up what appears to be scrap paper.

Each man kills the thing he loves.

- Oscar Wilde

61

Unknown

Play - If I Had a Heart by Fever Ray

Breaking A Mind

Some things in life should never change. Fear, anger, pain and control, any emotions that are human enough to feel weak if too strong.

These are things that can alter the human mind, the very essence of brain chemistry. She used to walk fast at night, always taking the longer path when it rains. Her head would tilt, her eyes would cry under the tears of the sky.

It was as beautiful as pathetic.

Patterns like these are easier to predict when they think they’re choosing themselves. Everyone thinks habits are boring. But habits are doors and they’re always easy to open when they’re not closed.

They always think they are alone. When they take a shower, a walk, when they draw… but I don’t need to touch to exist in her life.

She thinks her life is hers, that she’s escaping something she doesn’t even know exists. Thinking it’s just in her head… funny.

But some habits never leave. Raven hair still counts steps when she’s nervous before entering a room. She still searches for warmth and toxicity in the arms of people she shouldn’t trust. Did I break her ?

I wondered if she would grow out of that. Apparently she never did. Because she is something I shaped, and someone else is corrupting my work. She sits closer to this teacher now.

He leans toward her when he speaks, and she always nods. Then he touches her shoulder and she does not freeze…

That is new. I do not like new.

He is building over old foundations without permission.

People do that all the time, they renovate ruins without asking who ruined them. And I am very much possessive over my belongings.

She even smiles when he jokes… And that expression was rare even for me. I did not encourage it at all. I made sure no smile would be wasted on anyone else. But apparently I wasn’t convincing enough.

He thinks he is teaching her how to exist, how to erase me like I’m some kind of sinful and painful thought that haunts her. I wonder how long before she forgets why she learned to be quiet and detached.