flowers are NOT beautiful.

chapter 1.

        Flowers are NOT beautiful. They are miniscule seeds that sit in wet dirt and sprout into an organism that does nothing but make you sneeze and feed various insects. Then it shrivels up and stinks. In what way is that beautiful? 

    I shoved my heavy white blanket off my small body and padded over to vanity. I brushed my blonde hair free of tangles and wiped the remaining sleep out of my eyes. My under-eyes looked slightly purple, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to care enough to do anything about it. I slipped on a loose white t-shirt and a pair of gray leggings, tying my black hoodie around my waist. 

    I poured myself a thermos filled with green tea and kissed my mother on the forehead before rushing out the door. Part of me missed the morning bus rides to school. Sitting there in my cold seat in the back is where I got most of my reading done. High school was something I wouldn’t miss, but the bus ride was something peaceful to me. I glanced down at my pale arm, and noticed the faint horizontal lines running from my wrist halfway up to my elbow. I pulled a few hair bands out of my bag and put them on my wrist, partly masking the marks. I wasn’t afraid of anyone seeing them, I would just be highly uncomfortable if anyone decided to ask me about them. I’ve been in that situation before, and I don’t think my mind has ever gone blanker.

    The sky matched my mood. Cloudy, plain and dreary. I guess that was something I liked about living in Portland. I wasn’t alone. I would always have the sky to relate to. I sat down on the cold metal bench of the bus stop and sipped my tea quietly. The same routine every single morning. I was headed to my job downtown. I had been working at William Temple House thrift store for 2 months since I graduated.

    I had sat on that bus stop bench alone every single morning for 2 months at precisely 8:24 a.m. Until today. I noticed a being making it’s way down the sidewalk towards me out of my peripheral vision. I was slightly alarmed when he sat down next to me. His dark hair hung down just to his collar, contrasting his pale skin. He wore dark jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt. I tried my best not to look at him. Making conversation with strangers was something I had never been interested in. I pulled a pack of newport cigarettes out of my purse and stuck one in between my lips.

***

I lightly knocked on the door, making a barely audible sound.

“Enter.” I heard Lillians voice call from inside. She was sitting on the floor in front of her record player, listening to Pink Floyd’s album “Dark Side of the Moon” on repeat. She was smoking a cigarette and had her short fingernails painted black, matching the choker around her neck.

“Mom told me to tell you she ran to the market.” I said to her from the doorway. I always felt so unworthy to go in her room. The walls were painted a dark red, covered in black and white posters of things she adored. She only lit her room with natural lighting from her windows during the day, and only by candles during the night.

“Hey, come here.” She called, the cigarette between her lips barely moving as she spoke. She shook her finger motioning for me to come to her. I obeyed, and sat on the floor next to her. Her carpet was soft and plush, I could tell why she always prefered to sit on the floor. She took the cigarette out of her mouth and handed it to me. It had dark red lipstick marks ringing the end. I shook my head no, but she persisted.

“Take a drag.” I continued to say no. She kept shoving it closer and closer to my face. I backed farther and farther away. It smelled vile and my grandpa died of lung cancer.

“I don’t want it.” I finally said aloud.

“Take a fucking drag before I force it down your throat.” She shoved it against my mouth so I took it in my fingers. I lightly sucked in and coughed violently as it burned my throat. I tried to breathe in fresh air but Lillian kept it held to my mouth, so all I could get was more smoke. My eyes watered and I felt the fire in my chest. It tasted like hell. She finally took it away from me and I gasped for air, still coughing.

“Never smoke cigarettes, ok?” She said. I looked at her with a confused look, eyes filled with tears.

“Leave.” She said quietly. I got up and scurried back to my room.

***

I shifted around the items in my bag in search of a lighter, and couldn’t find one. Great. Now I look like a fool.

    The boy reached in his pocket and pulled out a small box. He pushed it open form one side and slowly took out a match.

    “Here,” he said quietly. I turned my head to him right as he sparked the match on the side of the box. The flame was big, and it was the most colorful thing I had seen all day. Our eyes locked while he lit the end of my cigarette.

“I collect matches.” he said. His pale blue eyes were slightly brighter than mine. I quickly tore our stare once the cigarette was lit.

    “Thanks,” I muffled. I took slow drags, still praying he didn’t attempt to make any further conversation. I pulled my tattered book from my bag and flipped to the dog-eared page near the middle. I couldn’t actually focus on reading, I was only pretending so I would have somewhere to look.

    “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. That’s an interesting read.” His voice was low and husky.

    “Thanks?” Fuck me. I didn’t know what else to say, but I’m sure anything would’ve been better than that.

    “Where are you headed?” he asked picking at his fingernails. I took a drag before responding.

    “Downtown. Yourself?” I asked. I really didn’t give a fuck. But i figured being kind would make my life easier in the long run.

    “Uptown. My mother lives up there.” I nodded slowly, avoiding eye contact. Finally the bus pulled up, luckily it was mine. I got up shoving my book back into my purse. I flicked my cigarette into the gutter as I reached the large doors.

    “I didn’t get your name.” He called after me. I turned back and stared at him for a second. "That's because I didn't give it to you, stranger." I say in my head. But something changes my mind. This strange boy was an odd kind of beautiful. 

    “Primrose.”