4:16am on a Saturday night.
She was alone on the roof of a someone whom she'd called a friend's house, higher than a fucking kite, drunk as a dog.
Lost.
I didn't take pity on her. I merely watched her lay on her back on the tiles, lifting the whiskey bottle to her chapped lips and scratching her nose, still burning from the magic powder inside.
Dark makeup flooding down her face and whiskey dribbling from the corners of her mouth. She was a mess of black hair and underwear.
She watched the stars, or tried to, with glassed over eyes. She had nobody to call. Nobody there, not even her demons, to comfort her.
Nothing but a mere girl down a cursed line of bitches, she was no different to me.
If there was a time to intervene, it was now.
I sat on the peak of the house, staring down at her.
Pathetic little girl.
I kicked down a rock, walking to meet her place.
Music blared and drunk, young idiots were attempting to have a good time in the house right below.
Her eyes glanced at me but it wouldn't have mattered if she did see me at all. If she did comprehend my existence, she didn't care in the slightest, I didn't expect her to, her existence was nothing to make a big deal of either.
A scream of frustration erupted from her weak lungs. I sat quietly, waiting. Her voice got soft.
"Why can't I feel."
She choked on her own words, I suspect the alcohol had something to do with it.
"Do you want to? I could give you every feeling in the world you wanted."
My whispers in her ear didn't effect her enough.
She glanced at me again. "Not in a love way, fucking idiot. I mean...in every way."
I leaned down, telling her softly, "Babygirl, I promise you I can give you every feeling you've ever wanted with one kiss. Everything you've ever wanted. Do you want to be happy, like your mother? Don't you want to feel all the things you can't? Aren't you tired of trying to find things on your own? Give yourself to me and I can do everything you want for you. One kiss.."
One kiss and your soul, dipshit.
She really had no idea what a curse emotions were.
Her faded eyes stayed locked on the sky.
"Yes, sir." Her voice was small.
Her lips tasted of whiskey and despair. I didn't mind. Mine tasted alike. I also didn't mind because now her soul was mine to keep until her soon day of death and after. She'd given herself to me.
I stood up and looked on her. Tears were now streaming down her face, a look of sadness took her features.
I left Morris Watson like that at 4:56am on a Saturday night. I left with the biggest part of her.
Her.
