All Chapters of Euphoria: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

c a t h e r i n e  I never liked parties. Blaring music lined with reverberating voices, the cheers of drunken states and the clamour of fleshes craving for contact that would raise their high, they are ever so present in all chaotic manner. The laughs radiate through people's faces and vibrate through each other's ears but I wonder if which ever transcend happiness to their hearts. If in the absence of nicotine and liquor, would anything ever feel ecstatic. I never liked parties. But Jackson do so I liked them anyway. "You know I can't be seen with you." I discussed as we were about to part ways on a particular alley. I told him to go first at JB's house and I'll follow shortly. Jackson's studded lips curled vainly for a bold ridicule. The crow black bulging orbs fixated towards me with vexation. I felt the rush of chill within my spine as I muttered s

c a t h e r i n e Vernon's amber eyes were deathly hollows, dimmed by the kitchen light and striken with the varying neon beams. Immeasurable thoughts mirrored in to their mystery that all I could ever worry is what he would say next and the fact that Jackson stood before us, seemed like a secondary concern. I am overpowered by the stings above the sheer linings of my skin, all implanted by the frosts of his glacial look. The rumbling music and the party around was suddenly a thousand miles a distant.  "You know her?" Jackson shifted his gaze back and forth to me and Vernon. The clench of his jaw told me he isn't pleased at the news.  I remembered the night when Vernon tried to kiss me only to be smacked down by Jackson. I scolded him for it but turns out, he was too drunk a

c a t h e r i n e  It was a short ecstatic feeling, when our lips met and mine melted against the softness of his. The stale taste of cigarette lingered in my tongue until my phone buzzed. Startled, I pulled myself back hastily. My fingers shuddered at the sight of Jackson calling. "I'm going back." I said before sprinting back to the house party.Vernon ran after me but we parted ways inside. I struggled to find Jackson in the havoc of guests now partying themselves to the fullest. The phone call is of no use for all I could hear is his incomprehnsible grunts. "Where are you?" His text message appeared. My nervousness elevated as I continued to stumble in the middle of the crowd.  "I went outside for some air. I'm back now.""Didn't even bother to tell me, huh?" "I'm sorry. You were busy talking with JB." It was hard typing messages in between unstable f

v e r n o n  Flashes of seconds before now filled my eyes. It drove my heart crazy when I remembered our lips smashing against each other. With every peck on Catherine's blood-stained mouth, embers of my soul ignites. I was running out of breath while breathing in too much at the same time. Foreign feelings I have never once felt towards anyone are settling their familiarity in my body. As if telling me that this very feeling, it won't be over shortly--or ever. I have a feeling that the way my heart pounded when I held Catherine, it's going to pound even harder in time. It's a small flame about to be wildfire.The dead night was kept alive through urban exploration on each other's flesh. And to be alive is to breath in each other's air, mixing breaths, kissing lips, palms gracing skins, and holding each other closely."Is this okay?" I asked in between ragged breaths. In between labored breathing and

c a t h e r i n e Monday morning was drawn over grey dusky skies and fog-enveloped roads. Rainfall played along car honks, water splashed on concrete roads, and raindrops showered all over the street lights and car windows. It was my favorite weather. Everything under greyscale are calmingly gloomy. Ironically, the absence of life appeared to me more consoling. Sullen yet still fast-paced crowds drove past me as I deliberately headed for the train station, figuring it would be less crowded than the city buses.Train took minutes to arrive. Inside, the seats were emptier, given my earliness. My palms have began to grow weary of the frozen air, my lips dried and my skin ached underneath the cheap fabric of my sweater. Yet I managed to ignore it all. I sat there, watching the cruel skies cry on towering edifices, listening as the train stations change per brief halts, still until I felt something uncanny.  My gaze flew over

c a t h e r i n e Vernon held me under his gaze. All the while, I felt the bloom of wildflowers in my throat. Frozen air and weeping skies lined the dead silence that accompanied us for seconds. The gruesome hail outside the glass windows competed with his staggering gaze. Both were cruel and cold. But the latter drove my heart hammering against my frail chest. It was a bold proclamation--one that forbid my brain to come up with any response."You don't have to say anything." He turned away, angled his head down until what's left for me to see is the crown of his golden colored locks. "Yeah. I can't come up with anything anyway." My soft giggle came in synch with Vernon's nasal laugh. For a while, the silent sound of our suppressed laughter beat the angry rainfall. It was strangely, invigorating.   But in my silence, I swam in the ocean of questions. Why would he say such thing? I d

c a t h e r i n e  We were utterly quiet in class. For everyone, it was a surprise to see Vernon back in the classroom. To me, it was rather tormenting. I couldn’t get myself to comprehend what the teacher was speaking. Vernon’s dark façade on the corner of the classroom is stealing my attention.He was sitting beside the window. The gloomy skies before him heightened his apathetic air. Just like that. I couldn’t see anything else. It was just him, the rain, and how they perfectly sync. How both looked sad yet comforting. I never thought something so sullen could also feel like salvation. He was hail, and blizzard, and hurricane, and all things sad and scary. He was a gloomy weather personified. He was bad omen, it drives most people with a shiver down their spine and drives them away-- to a safer path. But I like danger. I like sadness. I like the snowfall and the tracherous roads.

"Was it because of me?" I asked the obvious. Vernon was quick to shake his head. He tried to act non-chalant but it came out as a struggle. Beneath his hazel brown eyes was the concealed dismay, and perhaps, the overbearing sadness. Funny how I read him now. Days before, I would have a hard time comprehending his emotions which are always unforseeable behind his high walls. Strangely, we've come to this point--that it was just a number of days yet it felt long enough to know him. "No, of course not." Vernon clenched his jaw. Based on my observations, it's a natural tic when he's trying to supress whatever intense emotion he's feeling. "I know it's because of me. I'll fix it. Don't worry. I'll talk to my father." Completely panicked now, I almost went to leave for my father's office until Vernon held my wrist back. "Catherine." He called sternly, abruptly letting go of his grasp. "It's--" He bit his lip, ne

In my attempt to understand his sudden impassivity, my gaze lingered on the resurrection of Vernon's ice-cold facąde. He seemed a master to putting on and off the mask of joy and apathy, I noticed that too well. It seemed to me as though such emotions are nothing but accessories which he'd purposely display on chosen occasions. Right now, his air of playfulness has vanished and so is the tricky grins and the sardonic humor. He stood across me still, his face fixed firmly for the coldness he was trying to mask.The late sun rays from the Victorian windows shadowed Vernon's face in bastard amber. Amid how serene it was supposed to look, he feigned his austerity. His hard expression a reflection of the customary warmth gone faster than the dying sun in the late afternoon.I could have forced him to honesty but I remained mute opposite to him.Suddenly, my phone rang loudly in the silence of the empty book shelf aisle. Elvis's Presley's deep and monoton

My walk towards the principal's office took me to the far memories of my relationship with my father. Along the corridors echoed my mother's dialogues to me when I was a child."It's not that your father doesn't love you, Catherine.." Mom would often say every time my dad scores so well in proving me unimportant. Both of my parents were just 16 when they had me. They were never married, of course. Eventually, both of them had their own families. Often, I would feel like I am stuck in the middle like I belong nowhere. I feel like I wasn't supposed to exist in the first place.My mom took custody of me. My dad, on the other hand, promised to fulfill his responsibility to me but they remained just that--promises lacking actions. His consequent absences on all of my birthdays and all of the other special occasions are just the surface of his failed parenting. "It's just that he has a hard way showing it. Love can be tough, you know?" Mom, in her e