Sunday|

The week dragged by at the approximate speed of an injured turtle. Maybe slower. I laughed a little inside, picturing a turtle grimacing as it trudged forward, one painful step at a time. Dad would have laughed till he cried, then called me a sadist with his characteristic smirk.

But I'd never hear his voice anymore.

That thought stung me in places I never knew could hurt. I closed my eyes and breathed, searching frantically for a picture of him. The faint outline surfaced in my head, barely tracing the curves and edges of his strong frame.

My heart sank. It seemed that the more I tried to hold onto him, the more of him I lost. Ever since the disaster, picturing things in my head became near impossible, possibly a case of trauma-induced aphantasia. It was searing, the pain of my father slowly slipping out of my life like grains of sand through the gaps between my tired, worn fingers. If only I had a photograph to look at, or a keepsake to hold. Nothing had survived the avalanche; it had destroyed everything.

Sometimes I wondered why God made that happen. He loves us, doesn't He, so why did he take my father? And the thousands of other innocent lives..why?

Thinking too much again Alistair. Stop.

I brushed all doubts of God out of my mind; venturing into them often left me thrashing in the depths of murky waters I'd rather not mess with. Staying sane was not a choice, it was a necessity if I wanted to keep my family together. Or at least what was left of it.

"Dante, you coming?" I asked my little brother, who had now progressed to propping himself upright on his bed and staring at the wall before him. Better than lying in bed all day, I supposed.

"Dante?"

"Huh, what?"

"I asked if you wanted to come. To church."

"Oh. No." He replied flatly, distant eyes still firmly plastered to the wall.

I wasn't even disappointed anymore. Dante was never going to be the same again, as with Mom. In fact, I too had changed. Nothing was reverting back to normalcy, despite three weeks having past, but my heart had already numbed itself stone-hard - I felt nothing. Time didn't heal wounds; we must have been immune to its magic.  I looked at Dante one last time, before heading out.

Overcast with layers of grey cloud, the sky was cerulean. Just like the depths of the ocean.

Just like her eyes.

I wondered if I'll see her again; if she remembered me. The girl I met exactly a week before.

My heart brimmed with eager anticipation; was a stranger supposed to have such an effect on you? Not that she was a total stranger, we did have a conversation, kind of, in the least.

As I walked into the sanctuary, I saw that it was barely full, and there were empty pews nearer to the front, yet I felt myself gravitating, as if by some magnetic force, towards the last pew, that wasn't empty; she was there.

Her earnest doe eyes glanced towards me, and she broke into a soft smile. Something inside me must have melted, for my heart began to thaw ever so slightly, and the despair I was numbed by earlier began to fade. I couldn't help but grin back, maybe a bit too enthusiastically, but that seemed to loosen her up a little, as her smile widened into a genuine beam.

"Mind if I sit here?"

"Never would."

Her eyes sparkled ever so slightly, as she shuffled inwards to make room for me. She had the scent of ocean mist, I realised, that matched her eyes perfectly.

Her hair fell in cautious, measured locks about her shoulders, framing her almond face with their soft curls. Everything about her seemed to portray a story - and I found myself wanting to learn more.

"So, do you usually come by yourself?" I asked carefully.

"Mhm." She paused hesitantly, before continuing. "How about you? You're new around here aren't you?"

"Yeah, I just moved a couple weeks ago. I'm hoping I won't be coming alone the next week; my brother still isn't really keen on the idea of coming."

Her eyes grew larger in inquisitive concern; head tilting sideways thoughtfully. 

"Oh, is he not a Christian?"

"He's really rooted in the faith surprisingly," I paused, not very sure if those words still held true. After he was shaken; his tender heart scarred bitterly, maybe he wasn't anymore. 

She nodded half-convincingly, as if she could read my thoughts. 

"Did..something happen?" Her quiet voice sounded kind and gentle, like music. 

I wasn't very sure if I wanted to talk about it. After bottling it up inside of me for so long, it began to seem that pain was the safest in the depths of your heart. It wouldn't burden anyone else with its sorrow, nor would it resurface at the peak of your soul, hungry to engulf any glimmer of joy you managed to scavenge for. 

But. 

Something about her made me feel that it was safe. To pour out my soul without a care in the world, to bare my heart raw and bleeding without a fear.

"Well. I guess you could say that. But that can wait, till after the sermon. Right now, there's a more pressing question - what is your name?"

I wondered if I had hid my uncertainty convincingly, hoping my attempt of a smile didn't resemble something closer to a wince instead.

Her eyes flickered over mine, and I knew that she saw through my mask immediately. Even so, she played along, not missing a beat.

"Sure. I'm Kylar." Her words were calm and open, as if to still my heart.

"Alistair." I replied with a grateful smile.