Lexie is not a warrior. In fact, Lexie is a painter. Her hands are always covered in paint. Never coming off. Always there. For Lexie, painting is an escape. An escape from her pain. She paints to avoid the darkness that is in her soul. She paints t...
Atlas sighs and sits next to me, raising his head to take in the floating forms.
"I envy the clouds."
He doesn't say a word as slowly, I reach my hand out towards the white silk that hung in the blue sky.
"No one can touch them."
Atlas looks down, his hands falling to his knees as he whispers, "No one can touch you."
I look at him then.
Our eyes meet as he examines me.
"No one can touch you, Lexie. I swear it. Even me. Even I cannot touch you. I promise."
I look away from his eyes and stare down at my hands.
Pink.
I had created the rose I described to Mark.
A pink rose.
Pink like the color of the bathwater after Daisy was done cleaning me.
"I need you though."
Atlas starts- visibly jerks back- from my words.
"What?"
I look up and smile.
"I read your journal. While I was gone. It was beautiful."
He stays silent, still watching.
"But I left it there. And I don't want to go back..." My words trail off into themselves as his eyes grow hard and face stiffens, "Will you...write me another one?"
He stares at me, thoughtful before slowly nodding his head.
He rises to leave me alone. Before he can though I say, "You can come back you know."
He stops and turns around, he face confused as to what I mean.
I blush but brave forward, "You don't have to sleep away from me. I actually....it would be better...I mean if you don't mind...You being there would make me feel better."
Atlas's breath hitches and grows unsteady. He nods and quickly looks away, leaving me in my silence.
I wake up the next day with the fading warmth on his side.
And a note.
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