Let go

I step out of the shower with water dripping down the bare of my back. I hold a towel to my head, ruffling droplets like rain onto the bathroom floor and glance at my glowing phone sitting above the sink: 3 missed calls. I ignore it and instead stand in front of the full length mirror, studying myself carefully. 

I trace my fingers up and along my legs, pinching at everything that could be pinched. Finally, my eyes rest on my stomach. I don’t stare for long. I can’t stand it. I flick my eyes to the nearest wall and count to hundred. I need to calm myself before it's too late. Before I'm blown up like a balloon. Slowly I count. One is for one lollipop can’t hurt. Two is for two puppies playing chasies. Three is too much of a crowd. Oh God. It’s too much of a crowd. Four is for I can't take this anymore.  
I can't take this anymore.

Slapping a hand over my mouth, I spin towards the toilet and hurl bile into the toilet bowl. I watch it swirl around with water like a python curling around its prey. It's a death match with only one winner. I'm always the loser in this situation. Inside my ears, his voice still rings a ghostly whisper: Let me love you. No, that wasn't love. This isn't love. I don't want it. No matter how much I scream, his voice won't go away. His touch still lingers, even though it was months ago. No matter how much I scream, no one helped me. It still happened, I can't change history.


I slosh water onto my face and rinse my mouth. I slip into a long shirt and walked to the kitchen to brew some coffee. It will calm my mind. I slump into my chair and watch as clouds flutter across the waking sky. The sun, showers flowers of peach and orange. It's going to be a beautiful day. I quickly sling my camera over my shoulder and pointed towards the sky. Click. Click. Click. I smile contently at the photographs. More to add to my personal collection. I flick a glance towards the calender that hangs on the cream wall. September 16. Next Monday, I'll be flying back to New York for Ian McKell's exhibition. Slight shivers run down my spine. I never want to go back there.


Rachel clings onto my right arm and whines, 'Do you really have to leave for a week? I will be so lonely!' I roll my eyes at her and pat her shoulder, 'Invite Hector over. It's important, I need to show my support. He taught me so much. Bye, dear' I poke my tongue out at her as I pass through the gates. I take a long breath and let it out. Here goes nothing. Somewhere along this trip, I will either lose my sanity or fly back home crying. I hope it is neither.


Once landing, I book into my hotel and collapse onto my bed. I sit up and scanned the spectacular view of skyscrapers. I got a suite thanks to Ian. He's much too generous, even though I was his student. I check my watch, only three in the afternoon and his exhibition isn't until tomorrow. I rest my head onto the soft pillow and sleep. I need to ready myself for the night. Either I coop myself in my room every night or I face the fact that I'm here for a week and accept it. Sighing, I assure myself that those long nights of self-defence classes will pay off need be. 


The night is warm with cool breezes like a soothing caress. There aren't many people out, I noticed. I quicken my pace. I want to get out of the streets as fast as possible. I flick a glance at every dark alley. He's not hiding there.At every crazed-eye smoker. He's not them.At every incoherent drunk. It's safe.Why was I outside when I could enjoy the warmth of my blankets inside a tight security hotel? Maybe I am the insane one? You are the insane one. I ignore the voice and open the door, Living Room embraced me with its loving music. It was my favourite place in New York. I scan the crowds and saw him, my New York lover, whose name I always forget. He smiles at me and quickly scoops me into his arms, 'You've returned.' He says in his low voice. I grin back, 'Of course, I feel safe with you.'