Scarleton Series I : Before the Cult by Sandy Masia Page A

a
bit and leaned forward, brushing the hair behind her ears.“How
about you? Are you close to your family?”
    I swallowed. I
could feel I was making some sombre face, slightly looking down and
my thoughts already hazy with…
    “Um…I don’t
really miss them,” I spoke, evading the question. Nonetheless that
was crystal truth.
    Her face showed
she misread my facial expression for contempt. “Is this part of the
issue you facing?”
    “No. I just
never really saw my family that way. I’m neutral on the whole
issue. They are more like companions or people I just happen to be
with until some other ish happens. I’m numb towards them. I have no
ill feelings towards them or anything very affectionate. It is cool
that way. Lifts off a lot of the emotional baggage. I do believe
they love me and to some feeble extent I do too. I really don’t
care if that makes me a bad person, or not a person at all.”
    The whole
conversation was now begging to give something off. These things
make me get lost and nostalgic about things or a place that really
does not exist. The delusion that it does exist is just
tantalizingly suicidal.
    “Sandy, I can
see you’re stalling. Why?”
    I let her
question resound in my head, slowly devouring the contents
required.
    “Are you
afraid? “ she kept on.
    You mean of
you?
    “No,” demurely
I began.“ It is overwhelming. I don’t know where to begin or how to
put it. I would like to have a chance to think it over.”
    “In
silence?”
    I considered.
“Perhaps that would be best. It would be awkward though. This is
your room I can’t really dictate anything. No matter how troubled I
am I don’t have that right.”
    “It’s okay.”
She appeased.
    Too kind. You
are way too kind. This is just like in those soapy movies.
Fuck!
    “How did you
know?” I asked, my eye brows creased with intrigue.
    “Know what?”
she asked.
    “That there are
things going on me with me. I know you spoke of not seeing me in
class but that could have meant anything from being lazy and
smoking weed to just plain careless.”
    She nodded.
Exhaled. “Um, It’s just there in your face. You look like you are
going through shit. Half the time it seems like you are not here.
You have the face of guy who thinks a lot… no, I mean brooding. You
don’t think, you brood. You look awfully tired like the rest of
your life-force and enthusiasm has been sucked out of you. It might
just be you had a bad day, but from the look of your body language
and posture you just seem like you have been carrying this boulder
for too long.”
    Very
observant, I made a mental note.
    She drew a box
of cigarettes from her blouse and a lighter. “Mind if I light one?”
she asked.
    I shook my
head.
    “Thanks, “ she
pulled her first puff, squinting as the smoke blurred her view. She
wanted to have a look at me, as if to make some judgment but it was
only because she had more to say and she needed a prop. “I find I
have the best ideas when I smoke,” she said, as a side note.
    I stayed quiet,
waiting.
    She continued.
“You don’t finish your words when you speak. They kinda die out in
the end. Very low voice. I know too well that it is not a sign of
laziness but a discouraged spirit, Sandz.” She paused for a puff.
Knelt back towards the window to ash. She shook her head, “Can I
call you that?”
    “People call me
Sandman but Sandz is also fine. Carry on.”
    “Can I offer
you wine or juice? Anything? You look very thirsty.”
    I started to
realize my mouth had gone quite dry, probably from being struck by
all this. I would have asked how she noticed but it seemed best to
say as many few words as possible and not disturb her thought
process.
    “Water ,” I
replied.
    She got up and
sauntered to the book shelf and picked up a white mug. Stuck the
cigarette between her lips and bent at the purifier and poured me a
glass. In the same confident manner she delicately put it down at
the table in front of me.
    She jumped on
the