My thoughts sang Bach's anthem while my conscience looked shamefully at my reflexion in the big mirrior in front of me I bet she's cursing me under that hard expression of hers, I wish she could come out and face Bernard and then lock me inside a cage so that I would never come back running to him until I move on but she knew well that my depressed entity is begging for a bloke to please her needs she wanted to be held carefully and looked after to not break anymore. When I first saw Bernard I thought he was the one who was going to plead my attraction and my inner desire but my inexperienced self didn't recognise the trap beneath those touchy hands of his and harsh gazes at my breasts on that summer day in the university's yard at the debute of the year. Infact, he wanted to show me around the university but all his eyes and talks were focused on me that I felt my heart in my throat trying to realize the unfamiliar situation I was put in. Bach played louder in my head distracting me from my usual thoughts and reminding me that it was too late for college so I needed to hurry up, I held my phone and disconnected it from the charger unlocking the screen and cutting off the music played through my PC by Spotify and I sat on the bed checking on my notifications; two messages from Naomi telling me to meet her at the library afternoon -I almost forgot that yesterday she asked me to help her revise for her IELTS test- I cannot stand the fact that Naomi is gonna move to Britian next year, she begged me many times to move on with her but I can't leave my mother alone specially when she is this helpless alcoholic woman in her late fourties, she really needs me, besides missing her seems to be a very hurtful feeling that I cannot bear.
I put the phone in my pocket and carried my backpack heading to college trying not to think of Bernard specially after that huge fight last week over him being late for our date, it's not his first time being late besides I hate waiting for him in such places I am forced to hang out with him in. He knows well that I hated watching stupid non-fiction movies at crowded cinemas or following him around the city's bars trying to catch his attention while he's focused on his stupid friends. This time even my inner goddess is so sick and tired of this man and his games, she finally understood well that he doesn't want her because I kept refusing him touching me after choking me when I wanted to leave that stupid bar's private room because I knew well he wanted something from me and he was going to take it harshly with no mercy I was just a virgin in the end why would I accept being aggresivly ripped by a drunk loser?
The morning air caressed my cheeks and nose filling my lungs with vivid dreams and fresh desire for a cup of coffee, I usually didn't have breakfast but the breeze motivated me to drink one so I satisfied my brain cells with a cup of cappuccino from the café near my college. It's been a year since I've moved on to Florida with my mom it's such a very bustling city but I managed the unfamiliar new environment anyway. Infact, I wouldn't had a chance to study at the university of North Florida if I hadn't studied hard my senior year. The university's garden smelled so lovely in the morning with its beautiful flowers welcoming moths and butterflies in their hug filling their tender figures with nectar and tasty dew drops. I had no courses in the morning so I headed to the library and went to the huge bookshelves enjoying the atmosphere of the books hugging each other yelling at me to pick one of them but I couldn't find one that drags me on my knees enthusiastically to cuddle with it's chapters and letters and caress my nasal with its biblichor scent. I usually run picking up Thomas Hardy or Jane austen, Emily Bronte maybe or I seek refuge to Walter Scott... I looked at the novels' departement and a girl's name caught my attention "Jane Eyre"? I gazed at the writer's name "Charlotte Bonte", I already knew her but never had I ever had the chance to read one of her works. Infact, my obsession with Thomas Hardy prevented me from seeking other fictional worlds. I adored fiction, I guess I did because I was that helpless romantic character of my story that seeked refuge to platonic dimensions of a fictional world of aphrodistic desires that fills my inner goddess's thurst -God knows how helpless she is-, she's screaming at my face every night telling me to go seek Bernard again and ends up fighting with my conscience over "ego". Bernard... I wonder where he is now, he's probably somewhere not giving a damn about me.
I grabbed the book and headed to the garden and sat on the grass letting the beautiful bugs run over my bare shin; ladybugs and beautiful green lacewings, nature really cannot be more aesthetic but I wished the university was some old building from the 18th or the 19th century like Oxford or cambridge in Britain. I always dreamt about running through a castle's aisle with my comfort character, what if Bernard was a romanticised character that could take my hand and invites me for english tea at the backyard of our palace enjoying the singing of birds and the fountain's water's flake but I knew well that he could never be that, he had always been that bar's guy who's seeking girls for one nightstands. Why am I thinking of him too much than usual I should get started this novel seems very interesting.