curious

dead to me

"i need to kill you,
that's the only way to get you out of my head"

i don't know her name.

she'd been coming into my smoke shop for weeks now.

the same girl with green and black dyed hair, and eyes that could murder me.

she'd always buy the same thing.

a bottle of water and incense.

she's the only customer that actually asks me how i am, and genuinely cares.

she always asks about my pierced eyebrow and sleeve of tattoos.

"i never noticed that one; what's the meaning behind it?"

always the same answer.

"there is no meaning; it just looks cool."

the sparkle in her eyes every time i say that, almost makes it seem like she's hearing it for the first time.

she always asks me my name.

"what's your name again?"

always the same.

i never understood why she'd ask me the same questions every time.

she captivated my mind.

my every thought became about her.

i never got to see her lips.

the mask always got in the way.

i'd imagine they're thin.

always expect the worst, you know?

i'd asked her for her number one day.

she wrote down a number on some receipt paper and handed it to me, a wide smile on her face.

i texted the number that night, silently hoping she'd respond.

me
hey

(213)500-6935
who is this?

me
it's y/n from the smoke shop

(213)500-6935
how'd you get this number?

(213)500-6935
this phone number belongs to a child.

i was too scared to reply to the message.

i was too scared to bring it up to her the next time she came in.

i followed her that day.

she came in just as my shift was ending.