Cigarette Corner

1

Leant under shelter in the pouring rain, a cigarette is placed into my mouth with a hand that's numb from the cold. I hold a lighter to what my mother calls a cancer stick and inhale, my eyes closing as I feel the smoke travel in between the crevices of my throat and lungs. I open them again as I exhale, looking up towards the sky that shed tears in my stead.

I didn't look to see who had stood beside me to have a smoke - it wasn't an uncommon happening, though you wouldn't see many make the effort to come here in the rain. For me, there's nowhere else I can go. I hear awkward shuffling and then a frustrated "shit" being muttered, but I stay focused on emptying my thoughts and filling my lungs, as if everything else is fading away around me.

That is, until a heavy hand lightly taps my shoulder and brings me crashing into reality suddenly. It was strange - for once, this reality was something I'd prefer to the one I usually face, with wet black hair and blue-green eyes that I swore I could see stars in. Rain drips down his lightly tanned skin and his black jacket is wet through. I stare for a few moments, watching his lips move but no sound reaching my ears until I realise he's speaking to me.

"Have you got a light?" he asks me, voice smooth like chocolate at first. I fiddle with the lighter in my coat pocket.

"How do I know you wont steal my lighter like the last guy who asked?" I ask, looking straight into him.

"I won't," he says, his voice cracking under the cold as he shivers. I'm not convinced, so I lean back into the wall and take another puff of my cigarette. He doesn't move. "You're not very trusting, are you?" he asks me, and I blow smoke out into the space between us.

"Precisely," I reply, and he catches me off guard by smiling and raising his hands in defeat. He goes to sit down next to me.

There's a long silence, and I almost forget he's here when he speaks again. "Do you come here often?" I couldn't tell if that was a pick up line or an attempt at conversation, so I simply hum what I intend to be a yes. and he continues, "I just moved here. Everything's a lot different from the city."

I chuckle. "Oh, so you're a city boy. Good luck with living here then," I don't tell him how lucky I think he is for having lived outside this shitty town.

"Why? Seems like a nicer place. I'm not a people person," he states. I nod, understanding this.

"Whether you like people or not, this place is suffocating for those who choose not to follow everyone else."

He looks at me. "And you? Are you like everyone else?"

"Of course not." I raise a brow at him. "Are you?"

"I'll leave that for you to decide."

"Doesn't seem very promising, but we'll see," I tell him, though I hope that means he's not as bad a guy as I thought he could be.

"But if you think about it, isn't it better being yourself than like everyone else?"

"Exactly. I think we're on the same page." I force myself to not smile, my head turning slightly away from him just in case it slips out.

"Can I borrow that lighter now?"

"Nope."

I light another cigarette and give it to him, not meeting his eyes as his calloused fingers brush against my hand. I involuntarily shiver. "Indirect kiss from a girl, how lucky."

He chuckles and my heart stops for a moment. "My first, I'd have to admit." That almost gets me a little flustered. Almost.

I summon the courage to ask, "Are we like, friends now?" and he stops to think for a moment.

"If you're up for sharing your lighter with me someday, sure," he replies, and I look up at him and smirk.

"Maybe. It'd be nice if I knew who I was giving it to, though."

He grins - with beautiful teeth that aren't all that perfectly straight, but aren't all that crooked either - but quickly closes his mouth after. He blows out a small cloud of smoke and holds out his free hand to me. "Hunter Moretti. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss..."

I stifle a laugh. "Jonas. Daisy-Mae Jonas, at your service to help you light the cancer stick between your lips and bitch about life with." Suddenly I'm nervous, my hand holding his in a handshake. "I should hope you stick around, Mr Moretti."

"As do I, Miss Daisy-Mae Jonas. As do I."

My phone alarm sounds as I light another cig, and so I give it to Moretti before telling him I have to get home.

"Will you be back here?" He asks, and I smile.

"I come here every day after school. Though you might catch me around town too. I'll give you a tour sometime if you'd like."

He's smiling back. "It's a date?"

This catches me off guard for a short moment before I reply. "Perhaps. I'll see you tomorrow?" He nods as I begin to walk away. "Good."

And then I'm walking home, my cheeks flushed and smiling from ear to ear, even if the cold rain froze my fingertips and blurred my vision.

My happiness disappears suddenly when I walk through the door of the place I live, smelling the pungent smell of what I assume to be drugs. I see beer bottles by the door, leading to the living room where I see a woman crying on the sofa. A lump in my throats forms and in my chest a storm is brewing. She looks up at me and attempts to wipe the mascara that has run down her face, but I've already seen this. I already know. She gets up and brushes past me, her voice croaking out something about dinner. She sounds tired and broken, and the sound of large boots thumping down the staircase make her flinch. I look to the bottom as he appears, and I feel the lump become what felt like the size of a melon and the fear in my chest turn violent, thrashing around my insides as if to warn me of danger. But I already know.

Daddy's home.

But I'm not a little girl anymore, I don't cry in the corner or cower in fear. I look him in the eye and compete against his intimidating glare. His monstrous hand strikes my face with such force my head turns to the side, and for a second I fear it'll swing all the way round and break my neck. But it doesn't, so I look at him with blank eyes and a grin.

Because Daddy's strong, but I'm stronger. I glance at his new girlfriend, who is chopping vegetables in the kitchen, and I feel sorry for her. I feel my father grab my hair and yank it so hard I bet some tore out, and I keep on smiling even then. I keep on smiling, because I am better. I am stronger. I'm not a little girl anymore.

I tell myself this, but in my heart I'm not so sure. I think of seeing Moretti tomorrow, and somehow it makes me feel a little bit better.

This needs a cover, and I haven't finished but I wanted to publish it to kind of sample it?? Like to see how you may feel about it and if you like it and such.

Dedicated to Sophie (CryBabyPsych0) , who is always eager to read what I write. She's a sweetheart honestly, and for things like this she inspires me a lot. She's my sister from another mister, and I don't know what I'd do without her. Check out her works and show my girl some love!

Also dedicated to Demi, who is a new friend of mine but she's amazing and she also is eager when it comes to reading what I write. I'm beyond glad we're friends, and don't you forget it.

Thank you for reading the first chapter of Cigarette Corner. I hope you'll stick around to enjoy Daisy and Hunter's story in the future.

With love, Kat xoxo