Drugged Hearts

p r i n c e w i l l i a m » adriana

     The sun rays shone through the pale curtains veiling the only window in the white room. She raised her fingers tiredly, trying to spot the specks of dust that swayed chaotically in the air. However, her energy was drained, so she threw her hand back onto the thin cover tucked slightly at her sides. She tilted her head carefully to her right, letting her right eye sink farther into the pillow's fabric. Her parents were stationed in plastic chairs, her mom's head resting on Walter's shoulder as his rested on top of her pulled back hair. She let out a breath, fogging the mask hovering over both - her nose and mouth. Her eye sight dropped to their intertwined fingers, and then she cut off the gush of thoughts that raced through her mind by shutting her eyes, letting the sound of her steady breathing lull her to sleep.

     She went. He asked to meet her and just like the silly, delusional girl she was; she went. She hugged Walter's baggy jacket around her figure and walked in the freezing cold, not giving her breath - that caused her to sit on the sidewalk a couple of times on her way there - a thought. She hated to admit it, but she wanted him to say something that would change her mind; something to break her walls. She just wanted him to show her that he was mistaken; that he still cared. But none of the above happened. And on top of all that; he didn't even bring himself to show up. And there she was the next day, facing what she was ready to face if it meant having Tryston by her side once more.

     She knew her health wasn't as good as any seventeen year old's, and yet she blocked her parents' continuous warnings before the winter had begun about the effects of the cold on her health and made her way to the park in the freezing cold. So she lay the next day, helpless and tired, regretting the moment she gave the guy she kept unnamed since the day he was titled as 'the first guy to break Adriana Warren's heart' a minute of her time. But deep down she knew. She knew that she didn't go for him, but that she went so that she could see him once more. Lose her fingers in his brown locks once more. Hear her name roll off his tongue once more.

     Just once more.

     But all she ended up with was his name replaying in her mind, the faint taste of cigarettes and white chocolate lurking across her chapped lips, the feeling of his bare chest against her fingertips.

     When he called her the previous day, people might say she was overjoyed for two reasons; one being that she wanted to fix what fell from their grip and got shattered, and two being the mere fact that she wanted to hear his voice again. Now, Adriana did over joy for two reasons way different from the ones listed; one being the millisecond her heart melted in when his picture popped up on her phone's screen, indicating the caller's ID. She hadn't dared to check any pictures flooding her phone; not even pictures of her own self, knowing at heart that he was the one sitting behind the screen, taking them. So, when she was granted the opportunity to see his face again, her heart almost - almost - stopped. Second reason was the ringtone. She liked the ringtone.

     She just wished she had a clue why it ended. At first, she thought he was drunk. But it was proven to her that he wasn't when she pressed her lips to his - with him just standing as hard as stone - and didn't taste alcohol. Her next idea was that he was having one of his dumb eureka moments, but he looked too serious to be having one of those at the moment. But that wasn't how it hit her. The truth was slapped right across her face and shoved right into her dry throat when she said she was leaving, and he said - and she quote - "that would be for the best". And then the stages of a break up that happened only seconds ago were starting to rise up her tight throat, but she dealt with it the same way she dealt with that one time the Geography teacher gave her a C she most certainly didn't deserve; she straightened her back, grabbed her purse, and left, waiting until her room's door was shut to scream and cry and let the stages take toll on her. And then, two days later, she calmed down. She knew she had to; no one knew about Tryston and no one should've known about him. So, she painted her eyes with eyeliner, wiped her cheeks dry, put on some lipstick, fixed her hair, and called Chelsea.