masked

#9

I went straight to the library, free period didn't always mean going outside of school. I just needed to delve into a world that wasn't my own for a while. Everything was so messy and complicated.

Some moments later, the library door swung open. I didn't look up, scared of who I would see. Someone took a seat next to me, so close I could hear their breathing, steady. So close I could smell the cigarette smoke clinging to their clothes. I wrinkled up my nose, it smelt absolutely putrid.

"I'm sorry." Someone muttered, in a low, desperate voice.

I looked up.

He was staring so intently at me, his blue eyes glistening with sorrow. There was a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and his hair was parted like he had been running his hands through it.

"I forgive you," I sighed, "-but I don't think it's a good idea to be in your company anymore."

He nodded slowly. "Everyone leaves."

"No," I snapped my book shut. "I'm not leaving, you're pushing me away. There's a difference."

"It's for your own good!" He said, frustrated and put his head into his hands.

"You don't understand! I'm not the type of guy to hold your hand and buy you freaking teddy bears. I'm the type of guy that will take you to museums but end up breaking your heart into a harsher tragedy than any of the freaking artwork." He suddenly burst out.

I put my head on the side, working out this poetic outburst. "I don't believe you, how could something so mesmerising cause any destruction." I whispered, scared of what I was saying.

I tilted his face towards mine, his deep blue eyes reminded me somewhat of the Pacific. It's like looking at earth from outer space, it's serene and calming and I know it may only be for a second, but my whole world stops when I stare into them. The beautiful chromatic orbs that his eyes are.

"No one has ever looked at me like that." Simon said suddenly, in this small voice that broke my heart.

Suddenly, a gust of wind rushed past as the door opened to the library and other students started filing in. In the midst of the crowd, Simon disappeared. Leaving me to ponder over our conversation.

I walked to class and took my seat next to Josh, but my mind was elsewhere.

"Willow?"

"Hm?" I turned to Josh, breaking my trail of thought.

"I am sorry about what happened yesterday, that's not me." He said, awkwardly.

"If that's not you, why did you do it?" I wondered.

"Because, we all get angry sometimes and we have different ways to numb the pain." He said after a while.

I thought about when I got angry. The first time I completely lost it was when I realised my dad had broke my mums heart, she stopped sleeping and smiling and she was hurting so much. I stole the bottle of vodka she kept under the stairs and drank it all in one go.

After the alcohol was running through my veins, I felt calm and light. All thoughts of my dad were pushed firmly down and I was almost drowning in bliss.

Alcohol. My way of numbing pain.

"I understand."