Deep Ocean Blue Eyes

~~Ashley's POV~~

"Ashley!" I heard the pestering hail – I knew to be my mom's – for the umpteenth time a few paces away from behind the door. Well, it was expected as I had adopted the lifestyle of remaining indoors 95% of my day if not 100. Whatever I needed was brought to my room; I only left the comfort of its four walls when it was inevitable. Away from the world, behind closed doors, I remained and helped the police on Makayla's murder case.

"Ashley!" I heard it again and immediately squeezed the paper I was using to draw at the time, then added it to the litter on the floor. "Ash..." "Coming," I cut in sluggishly before dragging my feet to get the door.

"Were you asleep?" she asked kindly, walking in to drop the tray of medicine on the table. I scoffed silently before replying, "As if."

"What's all this?" she asked me, bending to pick one of the squeezed papers lying everywhere on the floor. "'Deep Ocean Blue Eyes'" she read aloud what was written on one. "You're still on this? I told you the police would handle this..."

"They can't handle it, mom!" I retorted almost at once. "There's no information whatsoever they have about him!"

"Do you think you could help by drawing different shades of blue eyes? How do you expect this to work?" she paused a bit while observing my countenance closely before continuing, "I know it's hard baby. But you need to take it easy."

"I need to try something, Mom!" I exclaimed with ensuing whimpers as I fell back to my bed.

"Honey," she called soothingly before taking the spot beside me.

"I need to try something. I can't sit here and watch him roam the streets free after killing my best friend!" I lamented, teary-eyed.

Without saying further, she pulled me into her bosom. "It's okay baby, you'll be fine," she solaced, caressing my ruffled hair. "Why don't you take your drugs, get some sleep, and we'll talk about this later?" the distressed woman suggested innocently.

I'd been on medications – I knew nothing of – for the past month following Makayla's death. The doctors who gave the prescription said they were for my anxiety disorder, insomnia, and all other messed up medical terms they used to brainwash my parents. Nevertheless, my condition remained the same. My insomnia which was a result of recurring nightmares continued, and my "anxiety" became my closest company at the time. So taking the drugs was useless and I'd sometimes flush them down the drain. My mom eventually took note and took it upon herself to personally administer them. After much talking, I yielded on the condition that she remained beside me.

***

"Makayla!" called from nowhere, a voice recognized to be Jordan's while we walked home together. In response, we both turned around to see him grinning from ear to ear a few paces away. "Do not forget to turn in your assignment by the weekend!" he reminded her of an overdue project.

"I sure will!" Makayla said in response, wearing a sheepish smile. It was damn obvious those two had a serious crush on each other.

Randomly shifting my gaze, I locked eyes once again with the strange dude in a hood and nose mask standing near the pole adjacent to the general math hall. It was the fifth time that week being in such an eerie atmosphere. Without any interactions or contact, a few paces away, dude just rained lours on me concealing his identity, leaving only his deep ocean blue eyes to my knowledge. On the first and second occasions, I attached no strings to his presence, brushing off whatever suspicions I could have harbored as "just a random weird dude on campus." However, the third and fourth occasions slapped reality to my face somewhat – I was being stalked! Naturally, my excitement was washed away immediately. Deeply engaged in the depth of his glare as though he was digging into my skin, I totally forgot my company.

"Ashley!" I heard Makayla holler, standing right next to me. She'd probably been calling my stupefied state back to normalcy. "Are you okay?" she asked warmly when she finally gained my attention. Before long, she too could also sense my nervousness by virtue of the sweat that became imminent on my face as that hardly ever happened.

"I... I saw him," I muttered shakily.

"You saw who? The guy with deep ocean blue eyes?" she sought clarification with the only information divulged to her. Following the trail of my stare initially, she redirected her gaze only to meet the pole as it was.

"He's gone," I muttered under my breath. 'Am I seeing a ghost?' the thought breezed in as Makayla for one had never caught a glimpse of him before. My ensuing shivers were put on hold the moment I felt Makayla's hand slide into mine. As always, she held me to help pull my thoughts together.

"It's the summer starting tomorrow, Ashley!" She reminded gleefully in a bid to replace the uneasy feeling with something exciting. Scratch that, it was the last day of school for that session, what could possibly outweigh that fulfilling feeling for average students like ourselves? With that in mind, my cheeks bulged in formation of a wide smile. "Shall we?" she held on tightly and received a nod as a response from me.

To kick start the summer break, we headed to Makayla's. She lived alone, and I had already told my parents I'd be late. So here we go!

Backing the refrigerator, Makayla held up a bottle of whiskey on one hand, and a shot glass on the other. The 21-year-old alcohol fanatic was ready for another episode. "C'mon Kayla," I stressed.

"You are so taking this with me today," she shuddered my mild riposte at once, closing our distance. "You'd love it," she placed it directly before me on the dining table.

"Just a shot glass?"

Without as much as a sound, she raised her brows twice, driving her message home. "Not again Kayla," I sighed. Apparently we were going to play a game she called "the shot glass." Whoever had the most resistance to the alcoholic beverage wins and gets a wish granted by the loser. Makayla was very well aware of my low resistance but always insisted on that as it was the one thing she could ever beat me at. Well, here goes nothing! With a shot of whiskey, the game was set in motion.

"Wh... why do you look like that?" she managed to ask amidst hysteric laughter watching my dramatic scowl on the fourth shot. With a thud on the table using the glass, I passed the baton to her. "Here you go!" Excitedly, she took the fourth shot without as much as a flinch.

To be honest, spending time with Makayla made up the most exciting moments of my life. Not to mention how much my life changed after meeting the wild fellow, our friendship blossomed nonetheless. She was more of a sister than a best friend to me; one of the few I could open up to without worrying of a third party. Having said that, the evening shortly closed in on our wasted selves on the floor of her living room.

I jolted with sudden, not realizing how fast asleep we had fallen. Still drowsy, my eyes met with pitch black darkness indicating the night's presence as the lights were off. Still under the influence of alcohol, my bones and muscles felt weak to a fault to move. My impaired vision made it harder to find my phone.

Summoning whatever strength I could, rubbing the floor around me with both hands, I searched for nothing in particular, just something useful. Hol'up... I paused abruptly when I felt a subtle change in texture and temperature. The smooth, cool surface of the tiles became irregular and slightly sticky beneath my fingers. "What the fuck is this?" I thought. There and then the skies clamored, shedding light – through the lightening that struck – on the grottiest scene I was yet to behold. "Aaaaaahhhhhhh!!!" came the shriek that shook me out of stupor to a sober state as I dashed in search of the lights switch. Thinking aback, we never put the lights off in the first place. But all of a sudden, even the doors and windows were also wide open.

"Makayla!!!!" I yelled on top of my voice seeing her body in the pool of her own blood. "Makayla!!!!" I hollered, pressing both hands against her stab wounds that kept trickling blood. With my mind kept hazy with many perplexing thoughts, I struggled to keep up with the countless openings as I only had two hands at my disposal. "Somebody help!!" I screamed only to be greeted by the echoes of my very own voice. "Makayla! Makayla!!" without letup, I hailed the still body. Once again, my rapt attention was called when I noticed her eyelids flutter. "Makayla!" Instinctively, I leapt in search of my phone. If she was still moving, calling an ambulance was the best thing to do at the time.

Getting up from beside her, with my blood running cold, I scanned the room in search of my bag pack only to catch sight of the bloody inscription on her mirror standing against the wall which read: "Deep ocean blue eyes." Shivers were immediately sent down my spine as I facepalmed myself in utter shock. With the creepy sensation ridding my legs of any life, I faltered back into the bloody pool. Shuddering in deep fear, I groveled instead to reach my bag which lay near the mirror. The night sure was hella chilly for one in summer. With so much difficulty, I reached for my bag. Given my terrible hand tremors, getting the bag was one thing, the phone, another, and dialing '911' proved to be the most arduous of all.

~~ "Ashley!" I suddenly heard faintly amidst the turmoil. Before long, my head also began to spin. 'What's going on?' "Ashley!" the voice called again.

"Ashley!!!" "Aaaahhh!!!" I screamed hearing the call made clear for the third time, meeting my mom's tensed gaze.

"It's just another nightmare," she said assuringly, her eyeballs all watery as she held me closely again.

"Deep ocean blue eyes... deep ocean blue eyes... deep ocean blue eyes...," I rambled shakily.

~~Ashley's POV~~

The early hours of the day were my favorite. While listening to each breath I took, my ever-so-rare calm heartbeat, I savored the soft scratching sound that came from shading the black hoodie on my drawing paper. My eyes were devoid of any sleep, my concentration remained steady while I drew my morning away. Makayla's case forced me to unravel my talent for imaginative drawing as I struggled to get the perfect description of the psycho on paper. 'Pffft...' Of course it would be absurd to catch him easily in the same clothes. But still, I couldn't sit idly by; after all, I am the only witness.

"Beep beep beep beep...," my alarm clock cried suddenly. Spontaneously, I pressed hard against my paper with my pencil, causing it to break; I was pissed. My morning was disturbed. The annoying beeps were however silenced almost at once when I pushed the clock standing on my drawing table close to my hand, to the floor, shattering it to pieces. "Son of a gun!" My palpitations set in again. My mom always got me those clocks and placed them on my drawing table on purpose knowing that's most likely where I'd fall asleep if I got lucky. But again and again, the clocks ended up in the trash just after being bought. "Argghh," I sighed, knowing I had to get up and get my day started. The clocks weren't all useless after all.

The end of the summer break was finally here! The new semester was to start in a few days, I suddenly remembered and heaved another sigh of annoyance. I walked to my mirror and behold! The giant shadows under my eyes were darker than ever; don't even get me started on the puffiness. Scratch that, I had concealers lying everywhere around the mirror, that was the least of my problems. I went ahead to wash up and apply some to my dark circles before heading downstairs.

In the kitchen...

"You're up?" my mom asked when she saw me walk in. "I was about bringing your drugs to you. What would you like for breakfast? I made scrambled eggs...,"

"Good morning mom," I cut her rambling short. 'Save me the stress ma'am.'

"The drugs didn't work?!" "Ahhh..." I sighed briefly, walking out of her sight to the cabinet near the gas cooker.

My mom had the habit of infusing me with sleeping pills before bed time but like always, they had zero effect. Apparently, she had paused to take a closer look when I greeted her. The concealer failed to conceal the truth from my mom after all.

"I'll take scrambled eggs," I told while sipping a cup of coffee I brewed. From where I stood, I could observe the depth of my mom's sigh from her chest movement before turning around to me. 'Stop looking at me like that.' I scorned the pitiful look my mom always wore whenever she looked at me. "I said I'll take scrambled eggs," I broke the silence and then turned around to face the brewer instead.

"Your dad got you another therapist." 'Thud!' I dropped my ceramic mug forcefully. 'Not again.' I let out a deep sigh of annoyance. That was the sixth time in one month for crying out loud!

"C'mon Ash..." Seconds later, I felt her hand patting my shoulder.

"Oh please," I shrugged. "Listen..." Getting hold of my left forearm, she turned me around to meet her direct gaze.

"You need help, Ashley," she told wearing the pitiful look that disgusted me almost every time!

"Come off it, Mom!..." I paused for a moment, locking eyes with her. "How many more horrendous sessions do I need to go through before you and dad finally understand how useless and unnecessary these things are?" I asked while making hand gestures to follow every word.

"You need help, Ashley," she gripped my hands earnestly, her face was washed over with empathy. "Let us help you. Help us to help you, Ashley." I looked away.

If only they knew how much I dreaded those exhausting sessions with certified talkers apparently paid to pull you out of anything with just words. It's been a month already, and nothing's changed! "Don't you get it??!!" I voiced. "These people are not helping matters, mom!" wearing a scowl, I cried out giving her the distraught gaze. These people should at least understand how exhausted I am already.

"Miss Antonia. The best one yet in Chicago. She's helped so many people like you get back to normal," she recited anxiously. I could tell the burning yearn for my cooperation from the look in her eyes. "Your father sacrificed a ton to hire her, Ashley." That drove me mad!

"My "father," my "father," my "father." Where the hell is this "father" of mine???!!" I yelled with emphasis on the last 'father.' My father who was literally ready to buy me a new life was seldom around. Engrossed in his business and work life, he only left his traces around us.

"Ashley please!" 'We've had this conversation over and over,' I could hear regardless. Staring unwaveringly into her bright warm eyes, I could tell just when they welled up; she was almost in tears. "I need my child back. I need my once warm and happy child back." Emotional blackmail! That's the trick that landed me on the chair opposite the so called therapists most of the time. "Don't give up on yourself, Ashley. Allow us to help you. Allow us to never give up on you. Help us help you, I beg you!" she pleaded with increasing tones at each sentence.

"And what if nothing changes?"

"She's in the study." "Screw it!" I muttered under my breath before storming off.

I walked straight to the study.

When I first opened the door, it was empty as I could clearly see the seats from my point of view. There was however a small aisle I needed to go through to confirm and so I did. Voila! I caught sight of a silky haired woman looking out the window. Following the trail of her really long hair all the way down, it landed my eyes on her round butt which went further to confirm she was indeed a woman. Without saying a word to the ridiculous woman, I took my seat.

"You're finally here," the strange lady spoke, revealing her soft voice. Instinctively, I tilted my head to the wall clock to check the time. It was past 9 already. 'Has she been waiting longer than I thought?' All these thinking made me curious for what she actually looked like. 'Reveal yourself to me.'

"Hello there," she voiced again with a colder voice as she turned around to meet her deep blue eyes with mine.

'Son of a gun!' I reacted. I stood up at once and held on to the top rail of the chair. I could feel my fingers boring through its wood as I struggled to hold back. In no time, my palpitations worsened; I could feel a rush of adrenaline charging through my veins; my neck felt heavy like it couldn't stand the blood pressure anymore; my breathing rhythm changed instantly; it was damn hard to keep my composure. "What stunt are you trying to pull?" I whispered through gritted teeth. Like she was intentionally driving me nuts, the wench, without flinching, watched my episode play out.

A few seconds after, the next phase ensued. Grotty scenes from "that night" began to replay in my head. "Aaargh...," I groaned loudly, using my palm heels to support my temples the moment my terrible headaches set in. It felt as if my whole world was spinning in a fury. My heart and brain were raging simultaneously to get out of their place. My chest felt tight, my airways stiffened, and I struggled to breathe while gasping for air.

"Stop it!!!!!!!!" I summoned every ounce of strength left in my vocal chord to shrill, using my hand to push down the bookshelf beside me. It took a while, but eventually, my petite touch compared to the gigantic shelf showed an effect. It fell to the other side pushing the other shelf beside it, until the third and final shelf – which was a bit smaller – on the same line, causing numerous books to scatter all over. "Get... the hell... away... from me!!!" my voice echoed behind the sound of crashing objects.

'Ding!' With hopes bursting through the roof, Mrs. Sinclair – Ashley's mom – took out the freshly baked cookies from the oven when the timer went off.

Understandably, that was the sixth therapist in that month given Ashley's annoyance. But she and her spouse didn't mind as long as it was assured Ashley would be restored to her normal self. She for one desperately wanted her once bright and loving child back. Ashley's parents weren't really wealthy but had enough to get them comfortable lives at the very least. And currently, more than fifty percent of their resources were pumped into Ashley's well-being; hiring those therapists cost a fortune. Although disappointed by the outcome every time, they never gave up searching for hope. Her husband combed through the city of Chicago thoroughly. For the record, Miss Antonia – so-called "best in Chicago" – was going to be their last glimmer of hope given the feats she's managed to pull off so far, and how much they had to sacrifice to get her here.

Elle imagined a beautiful scene of calmness and tranquility – what Ashley seldom experienced – while arranging the cookies neatly on the flat ceramic plate. She placed side-by-side Ashley's favorite homemade fruit drink prepared by her – fresh carrot juice – and two highball glasses to go with it on a mini-sized tray. 'The best in Chicago should be given the best treatment,' she thought. "All set," she muttered to herself, making her way to the study.

"Get... away... from... me!!!!" she heard Ashley's shriek followed by the sound of crashing objects as she approached the study. Her mind was instantly taken over. She released her grip, shattering everything in it on the tiled floor. Faster than a comet's tail, she swung the door open. Her face was immediately washed over by a befuddled expression seeing her baby curl in a fetal position on the floor next to her chair while keeping her ears tightly closed. She looked like a puppy left in the rain to die noticing her violent shivers even from where she stood. ''Beautiful scene of calmness and tranquility' my foot.'

She dashed in speedily to her rescue. Preoccupied with only getting her daughter to safety, she finally gained cognizance of an extra presence when Ashley was wrapped safely in her arms. She had her sit on the chair instead; Ashley clung to her like a toddler given the scare. The so-called "best in Chicago" stood still at one spot with folded arms while looking down on both of them from an elevated vantage because of her heels. Elle scoffed in disbelief.

"What do you think you're doing?!" she barked moon-eyed.

"I heard from Mr. Sinclair she had a phobia for blue eyes," she replied, looking rather calm for one responsible for the ruckus. Her statement drew Elle's attention to her eye color. "They were contacts. I removed them," she clarified on seeing her creased brows; her eyes looked nothing like blue.

"You were asked to help her and not worsen her case!" Elle's eyes glimmered with rage as she spoke.

"That's exactly what I'm doing." Elle scoffed loudly this time. She couldn't believe her eyes and ears. Holding Ashley still was pretty difficult and yet she had the guts to defend herself, and with a smug expression at that.

"Miss Antonia!" she paused. "Is this a joke or something?"

"I am a psychologist, and not just a therapist, ma'am. Knowing just how much her situation has worsened is also my job. I need to know for my help to be effective," she answered professionally. "I also needed to know how badly her phobia has deteriorated. And mind you, she doesn't just have a phobia for blue eyes but a panic disorder," she added with no hint of remorse.

"Is this your definition of help?"

"That would be all for today," she said with a bow causing her eyelids to move farther apart from each other. The nerve! After leaving such a bad aftertaste, she still had the guts to call that a session. Elle felt like charging and tearing her to shreds at that moment but as insignificant as her jaw muscles were, they felt heavy to move; she was rendered speechless.

"Ahhh...one more thing," she said suddenly and paused just before the aisle. She then turned around. "If you really love your child, quit the unnecessary medications," she uttered succinctly before leaving the room.

'What a witch!'

A few hours later ...

"Dearest you need to do something about that lady. She may end up driving our child even more insane!"

"I'll talk to her and get back to you."

"Ma'am lunch is served," Emerson walked in to inform.

"I'll call you back later." Elle hung up.

She'd managed to calm Ashley's horses and was on the phone with her husband who called to inquire about Miss Antonia's visit. Of course, she didn't leave out any phrase, sentence, or word, to fully express her dissatisfaction with her cheeky behavior. Emerson was one of their part-time servants who came to help around the house in the mornings and got off work in the evenings. Taking Ashley's general hatred and irritation for people in her personal space, they could not hire full-time workers. These even had to work under the condition that Ashley's room was out of bounds.

"Should I get the young madam?" she asked innocently assuming a civil pose.

"As if," Elle muttered. "I'll get her myself." Emerson was new and still trying to adjust so she saved her the sermon for later. "Set the table."

She was about to take the stairs when she heard the doorbell ring. Visits were banned, and she wasn't expecting any deliveries. So who could that be? The stairway was only a few paces away from getting her answer so she went to get the door.

"Carson!" she hailed brightly seeing the neighbor who lived next door. Visits were banned, yes, but there were exceptions.

"Good day, Mrs. Sinclair." "A good day to you too." They exchanged pleasantries with smiles.

"I just got off work. Is Ashley in?"

"Ashley?"

"She invited me over." What's he saying? The Ashley who's remained curled up in her bedroom, and only managed to regain composure? Or was there suddenly another Ashley under her roof? Her visage didn't fail to portray her confusion subconsciously. "Ummm... is there a problem?" he asked, noticing her stare full of questions.

"Ashley's indisposed at the moment. You sure she called you?"

"Yes!" He reaffirmed with conviction. He took out his phone presumably to show her his call log.

"Carson?" she heard Ashley's voice behind her and instinctively turned around. "Ashley! Are you okay?" she queried, swelling with concern as she rushed to her.

"Come on in," she beckoned her guest.

"Don't you think you need to rest? You just had an episode." she almost whispered the last part.

"Come off it, Mom. You know I'm light years away from catching any sleep after all. I've just been rolling on my bed for hours."

"But still..."

"Mom please," she said rather meekly, with both hands on her shoulders. "Carson's no stranger. Let him in." What a child! Shutting all avenues for any further chats she went back upstairs.

"Come on in," redirecting her attention to Carson, she called. She had no choice but to bend to her wishes after all.