Mare Moody - [blank]

He stands up and looks down at me. He looks slightly worried still. He bends down and kisses me on the forehead. A shiver runs down my back as he places his lips on me. Even the smallest touch from him creates waves in my body.

“Oh shit,” he says looking down at the frying pan on the stove, “I burned your egg.”

I laugh. How does he get me to laugh so much?

“It’s ok,” I reply, a drip of joy lingers in my tone, “I don’t like eggs anyway.”

“You lied to me?” He says in a joking yet surprised way.

I shrug my shoulders. A giggle escapes my throat.

He walks over to me and pulls me from my chair. I am still dizzy but he holds me in his arms and I am secure. His lips collide with mine. I am taken aback but I certainly cannot complain about my current situation.

I kiss back. My body relaxes. The dizziness becomes drowned in a sea of affection. I am floating. I am wading. I stand on the dock of my dreams and when his lips push more, I jump off, praying that he will be at the bottom to catch me.

He lets go of the kiss and looks into my eyes. In proper lighting, I can see just how bright a blue his irises really are. They are so enticing. They beg me to look. I indulge.

“I know it seems ridiculous to be so caught up in someone after a drunken one night stand but you are truly amazing, Ana. I hope this can continue if you allow my goofy, idiot self to be part of your life.”

His monologue is a lullaby to my worries. We learned each others names not even 24 hours ago but love is mysterious. Perhaps it is my heart's way of detaching from Kane or simply it could be that he entrances me to the level of love.

“You will always be welcome in my life, Noah.”

He smiles and pulls me into another kiss.

Kane.

Ignore.

KANE.

Please stop.

KANE.

I let the kiss go. The voice won’t-

WHORE.

Please. Lord, plea-

DIE.

I can’t do this anymore. I hold my hands up to my ears. My dizzy body falls under the pressure and my body hits the floor.

I can hear the muffled cries of Noah.

“Ana!” He yells, “Are you ok!?”

“No!” I cry through the voices. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. He interrupts my breathing.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“I hear voices!” I cry out, not thinking of the consequences that might arise from my disclosing this information. I just needed him to stop talking while I tried to calm my brain.

He stops and pulls away from me. Immediately, I shove the pain down and look at him. His look towards me distorts. He is confused and scared.

“Please,” I beg, “I can be normal.”

“I-uh,” he doesn’t know what to say.

I expected this. I am too fucked up to ever actually be happy. Why did I fill myself with hope?

“I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore,” I say solemnly.

He stays where he is, looking at me. I don’t even want to know what his thought process is because if I did, it would exasperate my already overwhelming problems.

I stand up. I balance myself and walk with as much steadiness as my body will allow. I see Tabitha’s blue tank top lying on the floor, I bend down and grab it. I walk to the bedroom, grab my jeans and get dressed. My heart is hurt yet again. I don’t know why I expected a happy ending.

I look around his room. 24 hours still makes a difference on people. I will never understand my heart and why it does what it does.

I see a notepad on his desk and reach for it. I grab a pen off out of the pile of writing utensils lazily strewn on the desk. I scribble him a note that simply holds Tabitha’s phone number. If he ever wants to see me again, he will call.

I shove on my shoes and walk out his room, note in hand. He stands in front of the bedroom door with the same worried look plastered on his face. He begins to tell me something but I don’t want to hear it. We may both regret it later.

I hand him the note and walk out of his apartment. My heart bleeds but I have to push it down. If I feel then I will feel everything. I can’t let it affect me.

His apartment building is a maze. I don’t quite remember how to get out but I can make educated guesses. I walk down the hallway. Dozens of white doors pass me. Each apartment holds at least one person. This person, whoever they may be, has a life as intricate as mine, equally filled with issues and problems. I am not special in my struggle. No one ever is.

An elevator comes into view. It is a short walk so I pick up my pace. I don’t want to give Noah even a slight chance to catch up to me.

I press the down button and get into the elevator. I press the button for the ground floor as I get in. And when the doors shut, my heart begs me to feel. I allow for a split second and I am immediately flooded with emotions. Noah wanted me. I could have had him. I am so fucked up. Why am I this way?

It becomes overwhelming. I lean against the wall of the elevator and slowly slide down. Tears begin to fall.

Fuck everything. I don’t deserve love. I don’t deserve anything but what fate has planned. Depression. Insanity. Suicide.

The last thought lingers in my brain. It echoes as if my mind temporarily transforms into an auditorium. I stand on the stage and yell it into the audience. The word reverberates and returns to my ears. The audience claps. They approve.

The elevator dings. I stand upright, wipe off my wet face and walk into the lobby with false confidence. Nobody notices me. In a world so big, nobody will ever notice me unless I beg them to.

I walk out of the front doors and into the buzzing city. A line of available taxis are parked on the side of the street. I walk to one and get in. I tell the driver Tabitha’s address and the car speeds off.

The buildings whip the car with wind as they pass. How the wind makes it through the maze of buildings yet still retains itself is a mystery. If anything, I wish to be as strong as the wind.

The humming of the engine calms me. I let it overtake my fogged brain. Time melts as I have been wishing it to for the last 20 minutes.

The taxi comes to a halt and I am knocked out of my brain. I look out, her riches glare back at me. I hand the driver my fare and step out.

As the days go on, the air gets colder. It flows around me, numbing my bare shoulders. I walk up to her door and knock.

Tabitha opens the door and looks at me. A smirk comes over her face.

“The walk of shame, huh?” She laughs.

She has no idea what is going on in my head.

I chuckle lightly. I just need to go to bed. She opens the door and lets me in. I walk through the great room, up the stairs and back in my temporary room.

I crash on the bed and stare back at the ceiling. 128 tiles. 8 by 16. I wonder sometimes if my life actually has any meaning. Am I placed here for a purpose or is life simply a scientific lottery that I just happened to win.

Tabitha walks in and looks at my bed.

“Are you ok?” She asks, worry fills her tone.

There is so much I wish I could tell her. Had this been 7 years ago, it would have rolled off my tongue with ease. But now, I hesitate. Although we both know who were, we barely know who the other is now.

She sits on the edge of the bed and looks at me with sympathy.

“I feel like it’s sophomore year again,” I kid.

“I know,” she says, “I like it.”

A smile comes across my face. Through all of the emotions that pulse through my brain, happiness shines the brightest. It is my light in the gloomy dark. Although my heart has been broken again even if it was a small misconduct, it still dimmed the flame.

“Do you remember Rachel?” She asks.