When she walked into the door it was apparent she had already been drinking. He was worrying about her drinking lately. Nia stumbled straight to the counter, stepping out of her shoes on the way. She wore a slightly baggy pair of jeans, and a fitting black ACDC tee. She was a mess. Her scarlet shoulder length hair was unkempt and her eyes had deep circles. It didn't comfort him anymore when she pulled out a glass and poured whiskey. She quickly downed that and poured a second. She hadn't been herself lately, and he was almost scared to confront her. Everything she did had been so self destructive the last few weeks. He was worried. After she finished her third round of Jack, He decided to speak up, she was almost scaring him.
"Sweetie?" he set his book down and sat up. "Nia?" He stood up and walked toward her. She held her head low and sipped her drink slowly, her back turned to him. He snuck up behind her and laced his arms around her waist. He placed his head on her shoulder and whispered softly to her.
"Stop." She pulled away. His mouth twisted into a frown.
"Baby, what's wrong? You seem upset."
"I'm fine," venom shot from her mouth. "Don't worry about me, I don't like it when you worry about me."
"Its kind of hard not to worry when I never know if youre going to kill yourself!" he shot back. She knit her eyebrows together, chugged the remnants of her drink and swiftly poured another. Tension filled the room, as if any word would start a war. She stormed away, and stopped suddenly in the hallway. Drink in one hand, she faltered her steps and grabbed her head. He walked quickly to her side and
cupped her chin, bringing her face inches from his. Her eyes glazed, and she stumbled forward, the glass dropped from her limp hand. Her head landed on his shoulder. He pushed her against the wall, one hand locked with hers and positioned above their heads, his other arm slinked up her
underarm and cradled her head. Her head fell forward, her eyes glanced up, tears
swimming in the murky grey.
"S-Sorry."
An inaudible whisper escaped her mouth as a smooth glass tear jumped the barrier in her eye keeping it from flooding. Scarlet hair acted as a curtain, shielding her shame. He leaned her head back and cupped it in his thick hands. She refused to meet his eyes. She looked so sad, so helpless leaned against the burgandy wall.
"No matter how many times I tell you, why won't you believe you're not alone?"His eyes pleaded, he lowered his head, trying desperately to get her stormy grey eyes to meet his oceanic navy blue ones.
She was simply too ashamed. When her eyes happened to open they were directed to the shattered glass of whiskey on the floor not inches away from their pairs of bare feet. Suddenly his head lowered into her immediate vision. She swiftly turned her head to the side, letting her slight curled hair yet again act as a curtain between the two. His heart dropped when he relaxed how determined she
was not to speak, or even make eye contact. She was weak, fatigued. It shattered
him.
"Baby..." His voice was thick and watery, a sure sign tears could be expected. He dropped his head yet again, in a pathetic attempt to get a glimpse into her hurricane eyes.
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. No matter how good your mouth is at lying, your eyes must always be truthful. It's a gift and a curse all at once, depending on where you stand in the situation. He craved to look into her broken soul. He thought, just maybe, he could be the one to fix her.
But she didn't consider herself broken.
Tears slipped over the barrier faster and faster, racing down her porcelain face, yet she remained silent. His face got closer and closer to hers. She tried desperately to keep him at a distance, but she was far too weak to put up a fight. She wriggled her wrists pathetically, trying to get them out of his grip before he found out. It would destroy him. Her free hand brushed the white cotton of his shirt asmshe made a pathetic attempt to push him away She wriggled faster and faster, and started to mumble.
"Sorry... Please... Let... Go... Please..."
Her face was drowning in tears. She couldn't let him see. Her forearm got warmer. No. It was too late. He noticed as well. The hand holding her wrist let go. He stared in astonishment at the red that coated his hand. Then his eyes found the source. A blood soaked band aid had slipped off of the girls wrist, and blood dripped out. It wasn't deep. It wasn't bad. It scared him. His eyes filled. His heart sank. Everything hurt. He was broken. The girls knees gave out, and she started to slip. Her mutilated
wrist dropped, as well as her head. He laced both arms now underneath her under arms and propped her against the wall. She was taking quiet sharp breaths while silent tears creeped down his face.
"Please look at me. Please." He whispered.
And for the first time that night, her eyes met his. The hurricane grey that made up her eyes swirled with pain and destruction. The oceanic navy blue that designed his we're hurt and confused. He didn't get it.
