Chapter 3: Melancholic past

Gavin's POV

"Looking for these?" I grinned, trying to tease her. I want to see her reaction after I saw that she's looking for her car keys like crazy. I can see that she's restless inside the car. I smiled and observed what she'll gonna do next.

When she glanced beside her from where I am standing, she was shocked. I held out a chuckle. Man, I can't help it. Her reaction is priceless.

"Yes, can I have my keys please..." She looked at me as if she was never impressed with a guy before. She even folded her arms. Now, she's giving me a blank look that I find really weird. It's like a punch on my ego. 

When was the last time I was treated like this?

This is not the usual treatment I get from girls. From what I used to know, they easily get so attracted to me with just a glimpse of an eye. I can see that she's simply different from them. Her reaction from the way she stared and talked to me is something I've never seen from the girls I've met before.

She crossed her arms on her chest and gave me an impression that she doesn't even care to know who the hell is someone in front of her. Obviously, she's not in the mood to begin a conversation to anybody right at this point in time.

I smiled. I love to see her awkwardness. She's trying to avoid me as much as she could but I got her keys to tease her a bit. "It's mine. I knew I dropped it somewhere, thanks for finding it for me." She said, as if trying to be tough in keeping the conversation going.

"It's mine, I suppose. You already left it there." I moved my head to the direction of where she sat down a while ago. I saw her frown a bit, as her eyebrows met but not looking at me directly as if really trying to avoid my gaze.

I was able to notice her simplicity as I look at her in a much closer distance. I was just standing outside her car while she's seating on the front seat of her red Honda Civic. The car's obviously been used for a longer time for the last two or three years. Or maybe that's how I only assumed it to be.

From what I noticed from her, she's kind of childish yet I find it really cute. Her body is somewhat petite. She's got curves, somehow but her face is more attractive. She's just wearing a plain gray shirt with matching jeans. She's a blonde, approximately 5'4 in height. Her hair is just short, just two inches below her collarbone. She's not wearing any makeup, for I was able to notice the lovely freckles that added to the unique qualities that made her stand among the rest.

Her being aloof is a complete turn-on. There's something in her eyes that I want to discover. I am dying to know the reason why she's crying beside the road. Did someone dump her? I stopped myself from asking her too much information. I can see that her personality is introverted. I noticed she's not trusting anyone that easy. I can feel it from the way she would respond to me.

She's the kind that's uncomfortable in dealing with strangers in the first place.

From that brief encounter, I find her very interesting as a woman. She only react based on what's beneficial for her. It is nice of her to not react based on emotions alone. She's sophisticated and smart the way she carries herself wherever she goes. She's not outgoing but I can't treat that as her weakness. Her being tough amidst her breaking points I guess is what's making her strong.

"Creepy." She said as she rolled her eyes. She's not even taking it seriously when I tried asking for her name. Is it too precious for her that she can't even give it to me that easy? I even cracked a joke but I can see that it didn't please her all. What a shame on my part.

I was not able to stop her from pulling her hand off my grip. All she did is to avoid her gaze I can see that she's too shy to do it. She left right after that encounter. 

She's weird and she didn't even mind knowing me or my name at all. I'll surely remember her face if I will see her again. I am already looking forward for it.

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Rebecca's POV

The house is a two-story studio type. It is situated in front of the many trees. I can say, we're a bit nearing the forest already. Our house is five minutes away from the main road which is a bit quiet. It's creepier since I am all alone in our house. It has two rooms on the upper part and there is a single room on the lower ground, near the kitchen. We have a simple sofa with fewer appliances. I've never felt so empty now that I can't feel any presence moving to and pro in the kitchen.

The sound of the kitchen wares being used for meals are nowhere to be heard anymore. It saddens me again. Why do I have to feel all this misery? Am I that bad that I have to experience this type of torture? Is it too much to ask for a happy family of my own? I never even get to experience it once in my life.

When I was young, I've never seen my father and mother reconciled, not even once. They always eat arguments for breakfast I sometimes mistook it as a normal thing. I am too used to their endless exchange of harsh arguments for breakfast whenever my dad stays at home. It seemed like they would love to do it as their routine, they are never getting tired of fighting whenever they like.

I always admire my mom for always initiating humility. If my mom and dad will fight, she would often do her best to end it. I know it hurts her more to see me cry rather than all the bruises she will receive from too much beating coming from my father. She want to end it because she would often see me cry in a corner as a response to their increased tone of voice as they argue. I've never experienced a day that they're okay. It seemed like they have all the reason in the world to do it.

Feeling weary and sad, I looked at the corner where I would often witness their feuds. I can still see a younger me, being comforted by my mom.

"Mom, why is daddy being mad at you? Are you a bad mom?" I looked at her with an innocent look. I can see that she's trying to hold her tears back from falling. She forced a smile as she faced me.

"Rebecca, dear...daddy's just tired, ok? Please understand him."

"Why are you two fighting? Don't you love him anymore?"

"Honey, it doesn't mean that if we fight, we never love each other anymore."

With that words coming from my mom, I am more confused this time.

"I don't understand. We are supposed to be happy. The parents of my classmates never fought. They are a happy family."

"When you grow up my dear, you will truly understand."

"Never forget that he loves you so much!" She added as she would hug me tight and rub my back but I can hear her quiet sobs. As I look at each corner of our house, I am reminded of her memories. Of how dad is trying to make her life miserable by accusing her of things I can't even imagine she could do. For me, those are just pointless piece of junk for accusations she doesn't even deserve.

Growing up, I understood love in a new perspective, far different from what others know.

As young as I am, I already realize that when you love a guy, there would really come a time where he will let you be hurt and cry, just like what my dad is doing to my mom.

My seven-year-old self back then already knew that love is not always a happy-ever-after. You will be hurt in the long run. You will not achieve happiness. Maybe at first, but boys will always try to take you for granted and leave you like you are someone that they hate the most after they're done with whatever thing they want from you.

Mom, I miss you so much. If dad was able to hurt you, I will make sure that I will not experience the kind of hurt that you've ever had. I will love myself even more. I will make sure to make someone pay for what he did to you. In any way that I can.