Chapter 56 - The Meaning Of Her Words

(From Leandro's Perspective)

"You never care about others' emotions then?" I asked. 

"Not really, at least I try not to. But don't worry. I care about your emotions," she said. 

Why was this girl so straightforward about everything? It was like she did not want to be any kind of confused about anything. 

"Why do you care about my emotions?"

"Because you're very close to me. I feel comfortable with you though sometimes you're very intriguing. I like talking to you and you listen. And for all other reasons... I thought that I should care about your emotions," she said. 

"Are you always like this to everyone?"

"Like what?"

"Like telling what's in your mind all the time, hard or soft, but the truth only?"

"That's part of my personality."

"It's rare."

"I know. But I prefer being like this. Because in this way, some people hate you and some people like you. The people liking you is less, but they are real, not those fake ones who are with you for taking advantage of you," she said. 

Even though she was very young, it seemed like I was talking to an all-knowing life adviser. She was right in every way possible. It looked like she had spent a lot of time in figuring out the meaning of life, the meaning of every word, the meaning of every emotion. 

"How old are you?" I asked.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"You're joking. Why would you want to know my age all of a sudden?"

"Just tell me. I thought you don't mind talking about anything."

"17," she said. 

"Mentally?" 

"I don't know how old I am mentally. I'm not supposed to know that, am I?"

"No, you're not."

"What do you think?"

"I don't know that either. Sometimes you seem like you're 12, other times you seem like you're 100."

"100? Do you think I'm that old?" she asked, pouting. 

"Mentally, I said."

"Huh, mentally? My ass! I'm not old, mentally or physically," she grumbled.

"Alright, little Ella. You're not old_ mentally or physically," I said, trying not to laugh. "Come on now. Lunch is ready."

She got down from the table, almost hitting her leg in the process. "Can you be a bit more careful?"

"I'm always careful," she muttered, taking a seat in one of the stools. 

"Yeah, I can see that." 

She was eating as if she had not eaten in months. She never cared how she looked while she did her thing. Other girls would probably try to eat slowly to look perfect. But she never tried. Needless to say, she was still pretty and adorable. 

"What?" she asked, finding me staring at her. 

"Nothing. Do you always eat that fast? You know the food is not running away," I said.

"It's my habit." 

She finished eating very quickly. I did not understand what she was up to. She was always in a hurry. Also, it was the first time she was having lunch with me. But she was still the fast eater. 

"I'm going to lie down for a while now. I feel sleepy," she said and left in the bedroom. 

After I was done, I went to the bedroom as well and saw that she was sleeping. She looked very peaceful_ and lonely, like a single flower in a huge tree. Her face held something that was hard to understand, yet I was adamant to find out. 

She looked so blissful, but there was some kind of determination in her face even when she was sleeping. It was the same look she had whenever she told me she could do something. Sometimes I wondered what made her like this- so determined, so serious yet childish in some ways. She surely was a hell of an odd combination, but perfect in her own way.

I could not help but think about what she said. Everything she told me had a meaning, a valid meaning. But how could she know so many things about people if she was only seventeen? It looked like she was forced to grow up quickly, to understand and know things that she was not supposed to. 

"You know being a bit polite and friendly won't kill you."

Perhaps because of her saying that day, I truly thought of being a bit polite, at least to her. I had no intention of showing this part to others, but to her, it was different. 

"My favorite color is black too! Do you know why? Well, because it represents how I'm on the inside. You know, my soul, if I have one. I'm sure my aura is black too if there is really something called an aura."

That day I did not care, but now I understood that she was not telling the entire truth. Black might be her favorite color, but there was not just a simple reason behind it. It might seem odd, but I knew that she was hiding some facts about her life. And it was just one of them. 

"You haven't told me why black is your favorite color. Is it because you think that black represents the heart of a monster and you are a monster? But, you know, that's not it. Even if you're trying not to show it, you have a heart. You did not kill me the moment you saw me. You could, but you didn't. You brought me here. And I know you went there last night to save me after I left this cave. You have given me a place to live. And you also went there to make sure that I found the right way back here. You care. You care for me because I'm a human being. Humans care for each other. And you see, you have a heart."

That was the time when she made me wonder if I truly had a heart, if I truly cared. I knew she did not think deeply before talking, she never did, yet her words seemed to be well-organized. 

"Well, you know girls hate me. I don't know why, but they just do. Boys don't though. They try to talk to me. I talk to them too, but then they try to take this thing to the next step, you know. That's the moment I stop talking to them. I can't trust them. They are going to use me for their pleasure only, and then they will leave me. And if I get attached to them, I'm going to be the one left heartbroken."

Of course, girls hated her because they were jealous of her and boys wanted to talk to her because they wanted her. But she saw through them as if they were open books. She knew that they were going to use them and then leave her when they were done with her. I could not help but admire her judgment. Even at such a young age, she knew what was good for her and what was not good for her. That was the reason, she did not say yes to me even though she wanted to countless times. 

"Oh, you mean to tell me you cannot hide anger? Then you definitely hide other things, right? Like your feelings, emotions, desire."

I did not know how or why she said that, but it felt like she could see through me. Before she said it, even I did not know that I had been hiding my feeling from not only others but also myself. Yet, she saw through me without even trying. 

"No one cares for me. Why would I care for them?"

Perhaps she did not know this, but I knew that she was lying. The way she talked, even though she tried to sound harsh and behave as if she did not care at all, I knew that she did. She cared a lot, more than she should. 

"Of course I was worried about you. I know there was no way I could overpower them. But at least, I could try."

Even when she told me this, she had no idea what her words meant to me. They were the words that I had not heard for a very long time, the words that I thought were not meant for me. 

"No. It never will. But it's the reality and the truth. Hard or not, you have to accept this. We all have to accept this. And we can't even change the past. What's done is done. If you could change the past, I know that you will do everything to bring your sister back. We all have a lot that we want to change in our past. But there's no way we can do that. Rather, here we are, living this life, playing the dirty game of truth."

It was the first time I talked about what happened to my sister. I thought she would get scared and fear me. But she did not. Rather, she helped me, she made me realize that it was time to let go of that time. She had no idea how she made me feel when she said this. It looked like she had something in her past that she wanted to change, but she chose not to waste her time on it.. Rather, she accepted the present, the truth, just like a strong person would.