Teenage Crime

Chapter 6

As fast as it happened, it was over. They lied there on the hay, breathing heavy.

         Aspyn could hear the rain coming down. She closed her eyes. Maybe this was the serendipity everyone always talked about.

         Harry turned to his side, facing her. He put his arm around her, kissing her on the forehead.

         He could barely make out the outline of her face, but he felt as though he’d never seen more of her.

         They both wished this moment would be never ending. They’d hoped it would become an everlasting moment of perfect harmony. Nothing would ever go wrong. Nothing could ever hurt them. It was tranquility, at it’s finest.

         But all tranquility must be disturbed with the blunders of real life.

         “We should go,” Harry whispered.

         “Mmm, why?”

         “My mom’s gonna start worrying.”

         “Why do people worry?”

         “I don’t know, but if we don’t leave now there will be some definite worrying going on.”

         “You go. I’ll make it back. I’ll be fine.”

         “No, Aspyn. I can’t just leave you here. C’mon, my house isn’t that far away.”

         “And I’m sure I’ll find my way back. Don’t get in trouble. Go home. I’ll be okay.”

         “Aspyn-”

         “Please, Harry. Don’t worry about me.”

         He stood there with his mouth open, hoping that something would just magically come out. Nothing ever did. He left after a few minutes, briefly going over the directions on how to get back to the house.

         Why do people worry? She thought, over and over. Worrying was like the absence of life, it got inside you. Ate you from the inside out, like a flesh eating virus or some shit like that. There was no real rationality to it. It was just your mind playing tricks on you. Like a magician trying to get you to believe you’re actually hypnotized, when in reality you are just putting too much trust in an outspoken, poorly dressed man.

         It’s quite sad, isn’t it?

         Aspyn was never a worrier. She would always hear about how people would get butterflies in their stomach when got nervous. She had no fucking idea on how people made the connection from butterflies to concerned feelings on how the rest of their life will pan out.

         She, for one, had never felt these “butterflies”. She imagined them as being a figment of people’s imagination, like an imaginary friend. Yeah, the butterflies could be considered your imaginary friend. Those little bitch friends that come around whenever you had something important to do, and make you feel like you’re going to completely fuck it up. But why would people keep these friends around? Why should you worry when you don’t have to?

         She walked back over to the entrance of the barn and put on her clothes. She picked up her purse and started to fish through it.

         Where is it? She thought, It has to be in here somewhere.

         She finally found it, pulling out a small bag of cocaine. She wasn’t addicted, though. No, she was just stressed. She started to fish through her purse again, looking for a lighter so she could see what she was doing. Her hand stumbled across a picture of her mom and dad.