Silent Sins ✓ ( book 1) Editing in Progress

Chapter 36

On the next upcoming chapter, I will update you guys on where I'm at with Silent Sins x
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I tap my finger against the glass, and breathe through my nose. This is, all in all, a very depressing topic. If one would let me, I could go on and on about the fatalities that is my life. I would talk about each event that left a dent in my heart.

But instead, I think about butterflies. Their fluttering wings. They are, what I believe to be, earths most beautiful insect. Is it strange that I want to be one? Maybe then, life would be over before I know it. I doubt animals sit around and think about death. They just live.

No family drama.

They constantly live in survival mode. We have marinated our own definition of survival in this society. Now, the definition of surviving is fighting to live the next day because the people we surround ourselves with make us feel empty. And sometimes we loose that battle.

Who's to say I can't be a butterfly though?

I set my empty glass down and stand quickly. A head rush blurs my vision and Romero catches me before I stumble into the coffee table. When his hands clutch my waist, I freeze. His scent hits me like fresh air and spicy mint.

This has to be the second time he's caught me. After all, falling into his arms was our first (alone) encounter.

"Easy."

I steady myself whilst clearing my throat. "I want to go to the balcony."

He watches me, the corner of his eyes creasing with worry, but he doesn't stop me. In fact, he helps me climb the stairs. I detach myself from his hold and hop quickly. My ribs protest, but I don't let that stop me.

I grab my crutches from him at the top and follow him towards my room. I realise very quickly that it's pitch black outside. Seeing anything would almost be pointless, but I need the fresh air.

I might loose my mind otherwise.

The brown wooden French doors are pushed back, and I eagerly step outside, momentarily stunned by the beauty of the night sky. I have seen many nights, but tonight is different. The breeze whips at my hair and my dark ringlets flow with the wind, as if trying to catch a ride on a jostling train out the city. It's freeing. It's breathtaking. I'm drunk.

It occurs to me that the world might seem beautiful now, but when I wake up, the stars won't be glistening on the horizon.

I clutch the cold metal fence, listening to the trees sway. Gusts of air blast them left and right and its new spring leaves rustle, like a sea of crashing waves. If only I could capture this moment. If only I could watch this scene replay. The white arched moon sings to me, telling me everything will be okay, but it will run by morning, leaving me to coax the silence until it returns at night.

Who know's if tonight will be as pretty as any other. My shoulders drop with every breath. Goosebumps rise along my skin but I don't pay it attention. I allow myself the pleasure of embracing this moment.

All I can see is a blank canvas but I know that it will be done by morning.

Without thinking, I grab Romero's hand in mine. I don't know why. Maybe it's the fear that if I don't hold on I might fly away. Not that anything is keeping me here. All that's left is problems that burden me. Problems that are beginning to make me nauseous.

His hand is stiff and still, breaths uneven and rigid. I don't let go. The alcohol is making me bold, but I also don't want to remember the feeling of floating, so I hold on tighter. After a moment, his hands soften, allowing me to cross the broken barriers. It's a relief, because if he pulled away and walked inside, I think I would have struggled to leave my room in the morning.