Would you Swallow all your Pride?

Chapter Fifteen: Ash.

Billie Dean nodded and closed the door. Now, in solitude, she let out a groan. I don't want to think about it. So she wouldn't. To make matters worse, they hadn't even touched the ice cream.

In the living room, Venable was still sitting down on the table. She stared at their food, not really knowing what to think. The air felt tense, weird, uncomfortable. It's just my head. But Billie Dean had stopped smiling all of a sudden, and then she just walked away. The ice cream was still there. I think I saw a mini-bar in my room. She grabbed it and walked into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Near the small table, the mini-bar stood. She opened it and found countless of drinks and snacks, and then when she opened the fridge, it only had some ice into it. The ice cream fit, thankfully. Wilhemina placed it there and got to the bed, ready to stretch her back a little. It popped. With a sigh, she reached for her phone. I'm not in the mood to answer Emma. So she didn't.

In her bedroom, Billie Dean stared up at the ceiling as she lay down on the bed. She kept focusing on not thinking about Wilhemina, which only made her want to think more about her. I made her smile. Venable had opened up with her today. It brought a sense of pride into Billie Dean, as well as something that felt a lot like despair. And then, from somewhere inside her, the crave for nicotine shot through her whole body. Billie Dean bit her lower lip, brown eyes falling on her purse. I have a pack of Marlboro there. She shook her head and looked back up. But the craving kept on growing. I shouldn't. She had decided she would stop, and it wasn't being as hard of a task as she thought it would be—mostly because she had been focusing on the sketchbook Wilhemina had gotten her—but also because it was easier to stick to her word now that she had someone else counting on her, too. But right now, it all felt heavy and hard. Harder. With a sigh, Billie Dean reluctantly got up and walked to her purse. Inside, she reached for the coral sketchbook as well as the pencil and eraser Venable had gotten her. Her hand brushed against the pack of cigarettes, and with a gulp she pulled away. Getting back to her bed, Billie looked through the pages; they were mostly child-like doodles of flowers and Nature. She flipped into a blank page and began to doodle. It wasn't flowing. I need a cigarette. But she also said she would quit, and Billie Dean was someone who stuck to her word. She doodled a little more, scribbling random lines and shapes which didn't reflect her imagination at all. Her mind struggled to create a scenario, focusing on situations instead. And she hated it. She hated it because the situations were unpleasing ones of Wilhemina's lips on another woman's... a tall, brunette woman with sapphire eyes. "Fuck it." Billie Dean pushed the notebook aside and got up to grab the Marlboro in her purse. Hasty fingertips guided a cigarette to her lips and she quickly lit it up, eyes closing as she took a first drag. God, it felt good. Billie Dean walked to the huge window and opened it a little, leaning against it as she smoked. Her body instantly calmed down, lungs filling with smoke. How come anything deadly made her feel so alive? I've never had a normal relationship with death, after all. Once the cigarette had disappeared, Billie Dean could manage to think a little better. She closed the window and got back to bed, placing one of the many pillows bellow her feet; they were slightly swollen. On the bedside table, Billie could hear her phone vibrating nonstop. She sighed and hesitantly reached for it; Carmen had texted her a billion of times. Ignoring the messages, Billie Dean set an alarm for an hour and put her phone on no disturb, ready to take a well deserved nap. Her eyes had grown heavy and she definitely didn't want to think about everything her mind insisted on thinking about.

Without realizing and with a book in hand, Wilhemina had fallen asleep. When she woke up from her slumber, the first thing that came across her mind was to check the hour; she did, and they had only an hour before the driver would come pick them up for the set. Billie Dean needs to eat. Setting her book aside, Venable got up and stretched herself. "Mgh," she groaned, back popping. Slowly, she got up and walked to the mini-bar. Wilhemina was quite sure she had seen some granola bars there, and as she opened it, there they were. Venable reached for two of them as well as the ice cream they had bought. Looking around, Wilhemina searched for a bowl; there were none. I'm pretty sure I saw some in the living room. With the food in hand, Venable quietly followed there. Indeed, there were a few silverware and dishes there. Venable scooped a generous amount of ice cream into one of the bowls, and then she broke the granola bars in two and placed the pieces on top of it. To herself, she only got some ice cream. Why am I so worried about her? It was a question Venable wasn't sure she could answer. She simply did. And she didn't know if it was normal or not, for she had barely had any situations like that before. I used to do that to Lisa. That was a long time ago. Wilhemina shook the bittersweet memory away and grabbed Billie Dean's bowl and a spoon. And then, with quiet steps, she walked to Billie's bedroom door and knocked on it. "Billie Dean?" Venable could hear some movement inside, so she stood there and waited. After a minute or two, Billie opened the door with messy hair and makeup not nearly as flawless as it was before. And still... breathtaking.