Medicine [h.s]

06

2:30 AM (earlier)

Still looking at the stars, I grab the vodka bottle and lift it to my mouth. The joint has already been smoked. Now I only have the cigarette in my hand. We've been sitting here for hours, none of us really said anything. Sometimes when we look at each other we laugh but other than that we are silent. This is the first time I have spoken.

"How did you get here? Somehow you don't fit in the picture." I look at him. He just smiles.

"You can think so because you don't see the whole picture. There's always a bigger picture." He looks at the sky again.

For some reason, he seems so mysterious. Some people would just look at him and think they know everything about him. A tattooed boy in a leather jacket. How could he be more than a gang member? But I'm not like that. If you look deep into someone's eyes you can see what kind of person they really are, you don't have to be a mind reader. It's enough to watch their eyes as they talk.

And if I add to the fact that he's sitting here with me now, I know for a fact that he's much more than a member of a stupid gang.

Dropping the subject, I look at my hand. My palm is hugging the vodka bottle and between my pointer and my middle finger there's my half-smoked cigarette. My two middle finger nails are red while all the others are black. And on my left hand it is almost the same, only there is not on my ring finger and on the middle finger where my nails are red but on my middle and index finger. I liked these. I don't know why but I like them.

These two colors are me. Sometimes I'm fiery and combative like red. But most of the time I'm like black, empty, uninteresting, and not really a color. That's why most of my nails are black. Because most of the time I'm not the warlike red but the blank black.

I lift the bottle to my mouth again, but I find that it is empty. It may be pretty late now. I have no idea how long we've been sitting here but I'm sure a lot of time has passed. I'm starting to get tired so I think I should go back to my room. I even have to pack my things in the morning. It's been a long day, so I should get some rest.

"I should go back to my room. It's really late." I get up and look at Liam. He just nods, and doesn't say anything.

I start walking back to the hotel. I liked that we didn't have to talk, we just sat quietly. I know we didn't just run into each other by accident. Although I have no idea why he came after me, I am grateful for it. At that moment, I stop and turn around. Liam looks at me questioningly.

"Thank you!" I say, then, without waiting for an answer, I turn back and walk into the hotel.

8:10 AM (present time)

I'm not okay.

I have a horrible headache. Natural sounds have a much stronger effect and currently it doesn't help.

When I got back to my room the way I was, I lay in bed. My stuff is tossed apart and the TV is on for some reason. I don't even remember when I turned it on.

Turning off the TV, I walked over to my suitcases. I should have packed my stuff but of course I didn't do it so now maybe I'll be in a little trouble but honestly I don't really care. I take the clothes I want to wear out of the bag and go to the bathroom. The pieces of the vodka bottle are still on the ground. Carefully not to step on one of the shards of glass, I step in front of the mirror.

I don't look good.

My eyes are tired and my hair is tousled. As I get my eyes on my neck, I remember everything that happened yesterday because there is a red spot on it. Disgusted, I move my gaze from there and rather start dressing. My white blouse, and jeans ripped in a few places fits perfectly with the weather. To this, I put on my white converse. A little dirty. I should clean it.