My Heart

Bare My Soul

Story#1: Bare My Soul

            I ran around the long, endless hallways. I was angry at the world for being unfair. My mom hated me. My sister died because of me. My life is a mess. I’m stuck here—in a school where everyone’s a jerk. I’ve been humiliated to an extent I’ve never known was legal. Now, all I wish for is that somehow, I could’ve been the one who died—not my perfect sister. She was so important and they loved her so much. Who was I? I was the obnoxious little sister who failed endlessly. I was the little sister whose life passed quietly in the background, pathetic and alone most of the time.

            I was ready to break down and cry as I passed by the stupid lockers. That’s when I heard him. After walking past the auditorium doors, I heard his voice. It was an unbearably wonderful voice that shot electricity humming under my skin. It was rough and soft at the same time; flowing effortlessly as he sang a soulful melody.

            I couldn’t help it—I quietly slid the door open. It was actually the way to the side of the stage. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, until it swept over a single spotlight. There he was, under that light. He had a medium built, his hair woven into fine, brown dreadlocks that reached down the middle of his back. His dark sleeves were pulled a bit up his arm, showing light bands of muscles that flexed as he softly strummed his guitar strings. My eyes traveled up those arms as he sat, his neck—his throat and his Adam’s apple, quivering slightly—and then to the side of his face. He was a bit tanned, and his face was flawless… smooth, his lips caressing each word like wisps of feathers, eyes closed, head tilted toward the light.

            The sight of him made my head swim, and I sucked in a deep breath. He looked so graceful—no, I needed a better word.

            His song had come to an end, I realized. His music rang in my ears and though the lyrics seemed a little blurry for me, I remembered the melody perfectly, closing my eyes.

            I didn’t know how many minutes passed with me standing there; I just savored the moment until the song in my head eventually came to a stop.

            “Need a hanky?” I heard a low voice ask. My eyes opened slowly, and I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand, sniffing.

            It was him—and boy; was he tall. I came up a little below his chest. I felt elfin. I shook my head and looked up to meet his gaze—my neck worked up a bit. He had dark, hypnotizing eyes. They reminded me of black water…black night… or just plain black orbs. He looked even better up close. His lashes were short but they wanted to hide his irises in the dark. I couldn’t seem to exhale, but somewhere in the back of my mind, common sense screamed for me to get a grip. He held his guitar in one hand, his handkerchief on the other.

            “No, thank you, I just—nothing. I heard you, and uh, nevermind. I shouldn’t be here anyway.” I was being rude and weird—I knew that. I just shook my head again, turning on my heels to walk away.

            “Wait. Stay.” I heard him say. I turned.

            “Why?” Stupidly, yes, I had to ask.

            He smiled and shook his head, with me standing there, looking like some sort of a buffoon. Then he leaned in. I froze in place. I felt his warm breath in my ear, then his lips touched my cheek.

            “No one ever took the time to listen to me before. Thanks.”