CHAPTER 2: GOING CRAZY!

                                    

                                          
 I nearly pissed in my pants when I heard sirens. It was like moving outside a cafeteria with no cent and suddenly running into a pretty lady with extra-cash. Yea, I know it's a mischievous illustration. The point is I was scared of the police patrol car. As I triumphed over its disappearing over the street corner, there she was looking at me desperately. Was the girl crazy? As in why would she try desperately to run again inside my room? I had to explain to her that the doctor had recently diagnosed me for run-phobia. But guess what?
                          
 I thought for the hundredth time that she was going to run away before vividly explaining some questions. Like why she had been star gazing? Why she had run away when she saw me? And why she was so pretty? Ok I admit I dismissed the latter question but I couldn't just help looking at her.
                          
  To her prettiness, I wanted to allude my thoughts to her in sentences like Hi, you are pretty, did anyone ever tell you that?  Or something like Geez, you look great...I shall not talk much for I am no  poet to explain how heaven is missing an angel-YOU. Imagine my horror as my lips made out "Hi, I want to know why you so much of ran away from me?" 

                          
Meditate on my surprise when she said, "Oh, I didn't much of wanted to run away from you, Egan Peter." Now that was it. First how did she know my name? My first name? No one at Beverly Inn had ever called me by my first name nevertheless a stranger. And then why did she run away? And how come I didn't know her? 

                          
As if she suspected my curiosity, she rubbed her soft right palm on my face [confession: No one had massaged me that way, leave alone a pretty girl]. Then she gently caressed my shoulders. I was starting to get bored (if you are to ignore my consistent blushing). That was when I decided it was high-time I made her one, later on, three cups of coffee. She said she wanted to tell me a secret. 
                          
 Haa, she is reading a certain journal she found on the top of my closet. 
                          
Caution: As to why she speaks French? What is her name? her destiny? Where she came from? Whether it's true she was standing on the edge of the earth when I found her? If you know the answers to half of these questions you will have known a third of her secret. This means you will have surrendered half of your life to them. They come at night. They have black gowns and they want your soul. Don't say I didn't warn YOU. If you still want to know her secret read on.