As I turned the corner, I saw her leaning against the rain soaked wall, frantically attempting to light her cigarette. Trying and failing as her hands were shaking, preventing the flame from staying put long enough to light it. Her face was stained with tears and her eyes had been rubbed to a state of deep, raw red.
I slowly walked up to her, taking the lighter out of my pocket in the process. As I approached her, I rubbed my thumb over the top of the metal ball and held it against her cigarette that was now hanging loosely from her lips. She didn’t even glance at me but just took a long drag and blew the opaque substance out. She watched the smoked intently as it danced off into the black night sky to mingle with the stars. As she brought the white stick back up to her mouth, I noticed how raw her thumb was from the lighter and I realised how much her smoking had increased since we came here. She must have noticed me looking as I heard her mumble “It wouldn’t light...”
I looked up and our eyes locked. I saw that she was crying again, gently and reluctantly, but she was crying nonetheless and I knew, from the look in her eyes, that she needed me to be there, to just be there with her. No parties. No alcohol. Nothing to take away the pain. She needed to feel the pain for once, because she felt that she needed to be real, and feel just like everyone else. I knew that, and she knew that around me, she could do just that. She needed a friend. And as I was looking at her, I felt stinging in my eyes and within a millisecond, tears of my own began to break out into the cool night air and roll down my face.
I took her into my arms, feeling her warmth surround my body, and she began crying into the crook of my neck as she clung to the back of my top. She shook viciously as she let the tears fall. She had stopped pretending, she had taken of the mask that she wears for the rest of the world. It was just me and her, and as we fell to the floor crying into each other, we didn’t care that the ground was soaking wet, or that we were sitting in years worth of mud and dirt. All we cared about was each other. We were just two fragile, broken girls sat in a dirty alleyway clinging onto each other as if our lives depended on it. For all the crap that we’d been through, for all the bastards we’d met and the friends we’d lost, we still had each other, and that’s all that mattered.
I stroked her hair softly and held her close. She was my best friend. We had gone through so much shit and yet, we were still there, together. As I continued to let her pour her heart out on my shoulder, I leaned upwards and softly whispered into her ear, “It’s us against the world”.
I think I've given up on the book idea. I once described my creativity as kinda like a bubble; it just sits on my head, soaking up any knew information or ideas that my brain comes up with and then every now and then it will just 'POP!' and everything will come pouring out and I have to scramble to soak it all back up again before it trickles away. Not so much fun.
Much love and peace.
Natalie.
♥
P.S I'm sure you recognised the theme of this scene bubz (:
P.P.S. 50th Post! Already? Wow!
