-Zick, remove immediately your head from my chest, you are starting to hurt me and you are not even a child anymore- these words came out quickly and full of anger from Lady Phoebe's thin and soft lips, as she, from above the comfortable bed, was looking for to perceive whether the boy was still awake or not.
It had been a few hours since she herself had agreed to talk and lie down with the young lord to confide to each other and talk about their problems, waiting for the evening to come but that waiting was becoming annoying and much more embarrassing.
Initially the young Ezekiel, had fallen asleep putting his head, his soft and wavy light brown hair on the shoulders of the girl, but since the darkness had fallen in that room and generally on earth he was perhaps not aware of that his head had come down from the shoulders of the girl to lie on her breasts.
Initially Phoebe hadn't said anything, she didn't know why, she just knew that on the one hand that strange boy pitied her and on one hand this closeness pleased her, in a certain sense it made her feel at ease, almost as if, unexpectedly she took some interest in young Jones.
Zick did not respond to the girl's words, he was asleep and as he slept she watched the pale and soft face of the boy forming in grimaces of pain and sadness.
Phoebe realised how complex the human psyche was, only after making the acquaintance of the young Jones, for whom, like two inverse poles, they were invariably attracted to each other.
Of course it hadn't always been like that and neither did the boy know it, but it was as if the young Dustin, always intelligent, perfect and ambitious, who tended to be the first in everything, she did tended to be in love with such a strange and incomprehensible boy, it seemed almost impossible for her.
Phoebe could hear how from his dry lips came whispers, words, which at times both for the speed and for the low tone with which they were uttered were incomprehensible to her.
She understood the words "mother" uttered several times by that, then "father", "Connor", "death", it was strange to hear those words said over and over again without any logical explanation.
Zick was talking to himself in his sleep or was it possible, that as it often was on the verge of death, he was reliving memories of his life before he came to Ireland.
She felt how it kicked with his feet, kicked with anxiety, fear, as he must have done once thrown into the sea, with no way out, fear, that seemed the only emotion that can be described in the desperate face of that young man.
-Shhh! Be quiet Ezekiel, everything is fine...- Phoebe tried to comfort him gently as her soft and young cheeks immediately became red with embarrassment.
Her big eyes observed the boy's face, they observed how salty and transparent tears had in the darkness of the room started to redden and wet his face, falling on his chin.
The young Dustin dipped her small and delicate hands inside his soft hair, to caress them trying to give the boy security, of course, on the one hand she was safe because she knew the young man was sleeping and could not notice the surroundings, but on the other hand she was frightened, because she had never experienced that situation.
Phoebe briefly took a look out the window, it was cool, even too cool and disturbing for a normal summer night, and even colder was when in the presence of a suspected ghost it was only she who remained awake.
The girl gazed outside, the half-open window of the bedroom, everything she saw was plunged into deep darkness, nothing more was possible at the sight of young Dustin, nothing but the great moon, shining in the dark sky and a thousand small stars to shore up the surrounding environment.
She could hear the rustle of the water of the deep sea from outside the window, she could smell the salty smell of it from afar, filling her nostrils and lungs, calming her soul thanks to that sweet and repetitive noise.
Phoebe felt the boy's body move, his head, move from her chest, it was almost as if he had suddenly woken up. He didn't look her in the face, on the contrary, he seemed to look into the void of the room, into the dark and communicate with someone who didn't exist.
Although the girl tried to understand and sharpen her gaze to learn if someone else was actually in the room, but despite trying to see, she was unable in any way to assume the presence of another individual nearby.
The girl's short blonde hair was sweaty and messy and often fell on her sweaty forehead, so much so that it silently clung to it and made that part of her body itchy.
-Zick...Are...are you okay?- It came out like a stammer from the soft lips of the girl, but it didn't seem to influence the attitude of the young Jones, who in his personal dialogues seemed to be living in a world of his own that night.
He slowly lifted his body from the bed, got up and walked, stopping, at times, as if he didn't know what was happening around him, almost as if taken by a different reality that had enveloped him.
Ezekiel talked, smiled, moved around the room, making it difficult for the young Phoebe who, not knowing what was happening, had begun to cover her pale and sweaty face under the soft and fresh sheets.
Was that the real Zick? The Zick that she also knew? What was wrong with that boy? Who was he communicating with and why didn't he seem to answer her?
What should she he have done in such a situation? Do not say anything and wait or save that young man from the world in which he was at that moment, a dangerous world a world that longed for his death, as slowly that young man was climbing on the precious and woody table that in that moment lay at the wide open window, left open by her to allow the young man to receive fresh sea air.
What would have happened? If the boy had thrown himself out of the window the fault would have been solely and exclusively hers for having trusted him too much, so she could not help but rush to the window.
-Ezekiel Jones! Stop it! Please!- prayed the girl firmly grabbing the boy's sweaty and pale wrist, she squeezed it in her sweaty hands.
Phoebe prayed and cried, while salty and transparent tears coldly rolled down her cheeks and fell on her soft lips.
She didn't know if all of this could be understood as holding hands, but in a way it was something nice and new, despite the predicament.
To the touch of the soft and cold fingers of the girl on his wrist, it seemed almost as if the young Lord Jones had noticed her, almost as if in realising this, one step away from the deep emptiness that was hidden behind the window of the room.
He seemed to have smiled at her, observing her face with his brown eyes, which at that moment, however, full of fear, seemed not to be his but seemed to belong to someone else, someone who certainly wasn't him.
Phoebe slowly let go of the boy's hand, seeing how it protruded from the surface of the window towards the immense and rocky ravine that characterised the beautiful Irish coast.
She grabbed the wrist with more force, she could hardly see any longer since her gaze was clouded with tears, she could not let that boy dangle in the middle of nowhere, so, even though she felt a huge pain on her wrist the young girl managed to push the one hard inward that Zick fell with his face on the ground.
Phoebe immediately lowered her gaze, her big cold blue eyes to her red, sore wrist, damn it! This stupid kid! Was it she who thought she could love him?
Her wrist at that moment will surely have been sprained, all because of that stupid kid.
Ezekiel slowly raised his face from the floor, he too felt a great pain, from the fact that he had fallen with his own face on the cold, hard and precious parquet, he could not help how a trail of red and fresh blood had started to descend from his nostrils, until it pours on his lips and falls in the form of drops on the cold floor.
-What? What the hell happened?- asked the boy turning his gaze to the table where seconds before he was throwing himself in the void.
He noticed how Phoebe's short blond hair moved around her face by the sweet and fresh wind, as well as the skirt of her beautiful and precious dress.
-This is a question I should ask you!- the girl complained, moving her angry gaze towards the still shocked and sore boy on the floor -you were about to throw yourself from the window...what the hell is wrong with you?!-.
-It was the woman in white, it was she who told me to follow her...-.