Nov 18, 2011

Typical //Ep. 1\\

Lyra was just sitting at the driver seat, alone. In her Volkswagen Passat B1 that belongs to her late father, she cries non-stop and a few minutes after that; she screams while I Don't Love You by My Chemical Romance; her favourite song was on the radio. She starts to cool down and it's raining, she hugs herself after feeling that chills through her bones. She wipes off her mascara that was fallen off after she cried. She checks her phone, and she got a message from her mother. "Make your own dinner, I'll be home late". Yeah, her mother is like other parents that not thinking of their child. But Lyra didn't mind. She knows that her mother was too busy to bear finances for both of them. 

She got another message. From Cecilia, her bestfriend for 10 years and still counting. "How's your Valentine's day?" Oh that question makes her think about tonight's incident. She pull out her box of cigarettes, take one and lightens it. She smokes when she's cold, sad, depressed. Another habit of hers. Her fingers numbing on the keypads. "Not so good." "Why? Tell me everything." with a big sigh, "He asked for a break-up." "What?" "Yeah, you're right." "Right about what? Are you telling that.." "He told me that we're still can be friends. I don't to be friends. I want him." "Hold on Lyra, is he telling you why he's dumping you?" That question makes her feel more anxious and curiosity starts to pop-out from her mind.

Cecilia called, because replying messages is taking a lot of time. "Lyra, can you explain everything? I don't understand you." "I don't want to talk about this again. I've waste 2 years loving a jerk. Thank god I'm with him for 2 years. I think he has enough, making himself unhappy with me around." "I didn't know you have made a mistake with him." "I don't understand him, Lia. I don't understand." "Chill down, let me come to your house tonight."

She hung up the phone and continue crying. The rain is not pouring like hell anymore. She calms herself down and she comes out, bangs the door of her car with the lighten cigarette between her thin lips. Wipes her feet at the big door mat that says 'Hi there stranger' and quickly open the door. She ran upstairs, throw her handbag at the corner of her queen size bed. She sits infront of her mirror, and she saw her polaroid pictures with Jack in it. Yeah, his name is Jack. What can she do about this?

To be continued.