Take Me Away | ✓

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P H O E N I X

It had been six and a half days since I'd last lit a cigarette. Not even a week. Almost, but not quite.

Still in my running clothes, I lit the end of the stick and let out a long drag. My muscles began to unclench from the tight knot they'd been in the past week and finally relaxed. The tension rolled off my shoulders in waves.

They say that exercise releases endorphins to make you happy but I was glad for something to occupy my mind. Neglecting schoolwork and having no social life meant that running fit nicely into all the spare time I had. The park was a perfect running track. Especially at this time, when it was deserted with the exception of night critters.

A few months ago and I would have had to be dragged out of bed for my morning jog, kicking and screaming what the fuck-- except now there was no one to scream at me.

My hair was plastered to the back of my neck, imprints from a hand that had lingered there earlier that night. They travelled down my spine, to the small of my back and up again. It was relaxing. I wanted to say wrong too, but maybe I'd let myself have this one. Just tonight.

I wasn't serious about running. Neither was I about smoking but things always had a funny way of never going the way you wanted them to. Maybe I didn't have that much self control. I knew I certainly didn't think I'd even be in this situation a year ago. I had good friends. High school peer pressures weren't the problem.

Maybe it was me.

Soon the stick had burnt down all the way, caressing the sensitive skin on the tip of my fingers. Ash sprinkled the ground like snowflakes. It hadn't snowed in Stonecrest for decades but there was a certain bitterness in the air. Maybe it was the smell of the burnt stub.

The smoke fumes only seemed to dampen my mood. All the negatives of my situation beginning to settle in: It was cold. The walk home was too long. My goosebumps didn't disappear as I slipped under my sheets. Nor when my mind refused to submerge into unconsciousness, too busy reminiscing about a past life. The bumps were uneven on my skin and the impression still lingered there in the morning.

All the signs came back. Like a switch had been turned on inside me, soon I was popping sticks like they were breath mints. My fingers tapped impatiently on the steering wheel as I stopped at a traffic light. By the time I'd reached the school parking lot, I'd run at least two red lights.

Just as I was reaching out for the pack of Marlboros at my feet, there was a knock at my window. Looking up, I saw a boy with familiar blue eyes and a smile on his face.

"Is this any way to say hello?" He said as I slammed the car door shut, swinging my bag across my shoulder.

"I'm not feeling it today."

"Which is the same as every day."

I shot him a wry smile and pulled my jacket closer to my body. A slight drizzle had begun to fall. The droplets of rain peppered my skin, feeling like tiny pinches.

"You know, I think your 'fuck the world' attitude is rubbing off on me."

"Really?" I murmured whilst punching in my locker combination and pulling out my books for the day.