The City | GirlxGirl

eighteen ➳

She was wearing Thom's clothing.

Jude opened her mouth, wanting to ask where she had gotten the clothes, why she was wearing them.

Before she could, Skylar was crossing the room, heavy step after heavy step. Like how the light had illuminated the room, Skylar's close proximity ignited a light inside Jude. In a similar fashion, Jude's body came to life, pulsing with anxiety and excitement that made her feel dizzy.

She wanted Skylar to take her hands. Then put her hands on her waist, on her shoulders, on her neck. She wanted Skylar to kiss her, to whisper in her ear, to feel her hot breath as she said, "Everything is okay now. I'm here."

She wanted Skylar.

But instead, Jude watched, still hopeful that Skylar was going to read her mind and give her everything she wanted, Skylar lifted her hand. When had her palm curled into a fist?

One punch after the other, Skylar painted Jude black and blue, black and blue, black and blue. A canvas filling with paint; a blue sky flooded with a sunset.

Only this wasn't beautiful.

Jude tried screaming, but she couldn't. She let Skylar hit her. She let Skylar hurt her, just as she had let Thom. Because she cared about Skylar, like she cared about Thom.

Every artist needed a canvas.

And Jude had always admired art.

-

Jude woke, suddenly afraid that she had screamed, or sworn, or had some sort of fit that would alert Blair that she was having a nightmare. She knew, from all the times when she was younger and had woke, her cries piercing through the static of her house, that when someone heard you having a nightmare, they expected you to tell them what it was about. Jude had never wanted to tell her parents that she so often had dreams of her father leaving them, of her mother forgetting about her, of her being on her own. She was so afraid of being alone.

But Blair remained in her bedroom-sleeping, most likely. The sun had barely risen, which meant that the blonde wouldn't be up for another hour or so, when the apartment shone so brightly from daylight that it was impossible to sleep any longer.

Sitting up, Jude felt her t-shirt clinging to her skin, itchy with sweat. She held her palms to her eyes, surprised to find them dry. After most nightmares, she woke up sobbing. This time, though, she felt too shaken up, too horrified to cry.

She cursed her mind, over and over. Angry that her brain had conjured this dream and played it for her as she slept. She now felt like she hadn't even been asleep. She felt more tired than she had been when she closed her eyes last night, after mulling over her conversation with Blair.

After what felt like hours, Jude couldn't make sense of it. The sun cast shadows against the walls, outlines of the coffee table and everything stacked neatly on it. The room was suddenly warm-too warm-and Jude stood, abruptly, blood rushing to her head. Slipping into her shoes, she grabbed her coat off the hanger, pulled it over her shoulders, and left the apartment.

The first day of February. The temperature was slowly rising. Very, very slowly, Jude thought. She shivered, burying herself deeper inside her coat, rationalizing that the cold was better than the heat of Blair's apartment. A breath of fresh air versus a suffocating warmth.

She wasn't afraid of Skylar. Not after that dream. Not after anything. Skylar was the girl who, among all the other people who had lingered outside of the bar, came over to ask if she was alright. Skylar brought her here. Skylar made her feel safe-that night, and all the others in between then and now. Even if Skylar hadn't paid Jude much attention, she knew she was there. She knew Skylar had her back.

But seeing her in that nightmare...

It's not real, Jude told herself, over and over. Skylar would never hurt anyone. She could get angry, Jude had seen, but Skylar would never do that to someone she loved.

Then again, that's what she had thought about Thom.

There's an awful feeling that sticks with you the entire day after waking from a nightmare, like a sunburn after spending a day outside. It's stuck to you; it hurts, itches; and no matter what you do, you can't make it go away.

Trying to negotiate with it, Jude willed her mind to conjure up good images of Skylar. To replace the bad ones that had played in her mind like a movie last night.

Skylar coming over to her, sitting on the curb with her. Skylar speaking softly, but looking so harsh. Always. Skylar standing beside her at the bar. Skylar smoking during her break.

The smoke was the best image. Because cigarettes relaxed Skylar, the thought of her smoking relaxed Jude. She thought of the way the fumes danced in the air for several seconds before rising, vanishing. And Skylar's delicate lips forming an "O" shape as she exhaled. Skylar's slender fingers holding the cigarette, like she had done it for years, like it was the only thing she knew how to do.

Feeling somewhat better, Jude re-entered the apartment, taking the stairs rather than the elevator, to try and warm up. On her way back to 54, she saw Blair-nearly stumbled into her. It was then that she realized she had kept her head lowered, and her eyes on her feet the entire time.

"I was wondering where you were," said Blair, bright as the sun that was now fully awake, just like Jude had now snapped out of her nightmare and realized that it wasn't real. Yet she still felt slightly nauseous when the thought of Skylar, dressed like Thom, hitting her and hitting her and hitting her, replayed inside her mind.

"Sorry. I just needed some air." Jude glanced down, noting Blair's attire: fully dressed, purse at her side. "Heading to work?"

"Sort of. There's somewhere I have to go first. I'll tell you more about it tonight, okay?" Blair clutched the straps of her purse a little tighter with every word.

Jude wondered, then, if Blair was going to continue where they had left off last night. If she was ever going to fill the void she had left when that thing flashed across her eyes. Had it been fear? Sadness?

Jude wanted to know. Badly.

But she couldn't question Blair now. For once, the blonde girl seemed on edge. She rocked back on forth in her flats, and looked eager to finish the conversation with Jude.

"Okay." Jude gave her a small, polite grin. "I'll see you later."

Jude watched her, a beam of blonde curls and black satin, disappear into the elevator.

Add that conversation to the growing list of things she didn't understand.