Solivagant Strangers

Arya: Coffee at Two in the Morning

Arya discovered the unforgiving smell of bitterly burnt coffee at two in the morning and the not-so-pleasant, rancid taste it left in her mouth. She wondered if Ben would still stare lovingly at her if he found out that her skin was decorated with candy red stripes. Her body sometimes reminded her of leftover candy canes on New Year's Eve- holding no significance and not wanted by anyone. She felt discarded and broken, a silent oddity painted onto her skin unwillingly. Nights such as these made Arya worry about her sanity. Monsters lurked in the shadows of her empty flat and her hidden stash of glimmering blades seemed to be shrieking her name from their place under her neatly, folded socks. Her skin itched to feel the sharp sting of the blade and her eyes longed to see ultra-red blood bubbling up to the surface from her broken veins.

                Just as she was stirring from her comfy place on her lumpy, burlap sack couch to go and fetch her 'kit', Benedict's image flashed behind her lilac eyelids. Arya gasped and slumped back into her seat. Shame settled in the pit of her stomach and she felt her face become crimson even though not a single soul was around to see her humiliation. Arya couldn't fathom the look on Ben's perfectly chiseled face when he discovered her filthy, nasty secret. She envisioned he would roar at her, his veins popping from his face and neck taunting her with their pale blue lines. She could vividly picture the spit flying and the flailing arms and she knew it would end with a door slamming in her face. Arya would end up alone...again. Except this time she wasn't so sure that she would be able to stop the blades from cutting into her skin too deeply.

                But...maybe his ocean eyes would glimmer with worry. And maybe his curly, chestnut hair would sweep softly across her neck as he pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. Perhaps his nimble fingers would delicately brush massive, crocodile tears off of her glowing cheeks and maybe he would kiss her so tenderly it would make her sob harder. She wished Benedict would beg her to reveal where her twinkling blades were hidden and she wished she could watch him throw the monstrosities into the trash and turn back to her with hopeful, sanguine eyes.

                It'd been about two days since Arya had heard or seen Benedict and she was beginning to think that maybe he was just a pleasant coffee shop chat. She couldn't help it as she sank deeper into her pit of despair. She felt so alone. It wasn't as if she could control her mind and her thoughts; she more than wished she could. They just drifted in and latched onto dark cells making tiny hills turn into mountains of unrepentant doom. Arya didn't want to have these thoughts, she didn't want hurt herself and she certainly didn't want to kill herself. But it was as if her body became possessed when these attitudes swooped in unannounced. The oily-black temperaments would invade her mind slowly ebbing their way in and commandeering her brain and suddenly she couldn't process happy thoughts. These sulks would last for days and unfortunately for her body they usually meant etching in raw and painful wounds that would be endlessly captured on her alabaster skin. She felt imprudent for believing that an introduction at a small café meant something real and that Benedict, a man she hardly knew, could pull her out of her longtime hopelessness.

                A sudden pounding on her polished, oak door jolted her out of her own little apocalyptic contemplations. Her heart raced; sprinting for a constantly hidden finish line and her mind grinded its internal gears attempting to conjure a portrait of who could be at her door at this late hour. She rose from her couch, barely glancing down to see how baggy her sweatpants had become in these last few months, and slowly neared the entry way. The pounding came again, practically making Arya's skeleton jump out of her skin altogether.

                "Who...who's there?" Her voice waivered as she squinted through the peephole attempting to catch a glimpse of the stranger.