SATURNINE.

I'm no psychic but I was still right; the next day Edith refused to talk to me, and when I mean talking I mean a full introspective conversation like we used to have at the end of last year. I was still wondering what else could have driven her to take this rough decision because she managed to survive this tidal wave of madness on my behalf.

One of the reasons could be because it´s hard for me to maintain my promises, especially the ones I make to her. Is our thing truly serious or is it just a game? Was I using her or was I the one being used?

Edith...the real reason her dad won´t talk to her is because of me.  She faced him several times, sort of conservative fellow, harmless, really but with his feet well put on the goddamn ground. He made a very ugly remark one day;

"I didn´t realize you actually dated your patients, are you allowed to do that?"

And then she came back to me incredibly offended including me and she went, "Nah, forget it! Dad´s greatest talent has been always pissing me off, someone should probably give him a medal or something."

It´s like a certain a part of her wants me so badly the same way a kid wants a rare animal and put in a cage, while the other part is terrified the way a child runs away from the monster under the bed.

I kept thinking of that one song that was playing on my MP3 that time when Edith found me half dead in my apartment; it made sense then and it makes sense now...

This music to cut your veins to was never a personal favorite,it was Daniel's. I suppose it's some kind of bad karma I had to pay for hanging out with goths.

I couldn't afford to be depressed that day since I kept myself busy but still an unexpected call reminded me of my unevitable frailty.

"Hello, dear!" That was mom with her bittersweet voice.

"This is indeed surprising," I added. "Why did you call me so early?" It was around 10 AM if I'm not mistaking.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she continued.

I sighed deeply, "...No, not really. I mean I am busy right now but go right ahead."

"Well, you sound strange, which is basically the reason why I called you. Just the other day while I was in the living room I stared for several hours that marvelous painting you gave us last year, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, that one! What about it?"

"I'm not sure how to say this but it made me grow concerned about you...now I'm not saying that you're in danger but are you feeling alright lately?"

I didn't answer immediately, "...Yes, I am, like I said I have been very busy..."

"How' s Edith doing?"

Oh, damn, I couldn't keep acting like nothing happened, "...not so good, I mean between us. We had a fight...a huge fight."

"I knew it, I had a feeling something like that was brewing, but it's nothing serious?"

"I, I don't know..." I leaned against the thick walls in my studio while I stared outside the window with a disgusting melancholic look. "I guess it's my own fault."

"Adrian, Honey, you know that's not true, she's also partially responsible even if you don't want to admit, so please, stop blaming yourself!"

I sighed.

"But alright, I trust you, just keep in touch and take good care of yourself."

"Don't love me too much," I ended.

I didn't miss that comment about the painting; it seems they're connected to my pain. That gives a whole new meaning to the age old phrase, "Even walls have ears..." Beautiful.