ISABELLA The Forgotten One

X V I I I

18

The soothing jingle of my keys.

I turn them carefully. His warm body temperature generates onto me.

I feel anxious.

Home. Breathing in the scent of emptiness, along with the awful faint smell of cigarettes.

It relaxes the little soul I have left.

I take my jacket off dropping it to the floor. Kicking my shoes off.
I float over to my couch.

I watch him close the door.

Then take it all in.

Take in in the sadness of a home. It's far from home.

"You smoke?"

I shake my head no.

He looks at the ashtray overflowing with cigarettes.

I sit up slowly.
He watches me.

I pick up the pack of Newports, pulling a cigarette out.

Loving the way it feels in between my fingers.

"I don't really smoke them." I pause catching his eyes. "I do something else with them."

His eyes loud with curiosity.

"Do you... want me to show you?" I ask, he just stares at me.

I walk over to him, holding the tip in front of our faces.

He holds his finger up a small fire ascends from it.

I stare for a second; at the heathen like man...that can produce so many beautiful, unknown wonders.

Dipping it into the flame, the fire eating away at it.

I look at him...making sure he's watching.

Pulling the cigarette from the fire.

We watch the smoke disappear into the air between us.

With my other hand I secretly ball up the big t-shirt in my hand. Holding it tightly. Bracing myself for the pain.

I quickly press the cancer into my thigh. The sting and heat make me bite down on my lip.

We don't blink at all. He stares into my soul.

Watching his face get hard all over again, his eyebrows furrowing.

Pain takes his face. I'm afraid if I look away... I'll miss something like an emotion. Other than toughness, and pain.

"You're fucking mental." He whispers as he smirks.

I snap.

I'm taken by rage and sadness.
"Leave." I say, meaning it.

I need some time to breathe, think, alone...

I have to work later on tonight.

Being around him drains the life out of me.