𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓; 𝐏𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐈

𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻

✩♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
❝ 𝒊 𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏,
𝒊 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝑰'𝒎 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒃 ❞

⌞ O C T O B E R - 2 0 1 9 ⌝

I was only fifteen when I had my first cigarette.

It was a cool evening, the kind that made the air feel crisp and clean. I sat on the low wall in the park, shoulders hunched as I watched the smoke from other people's cigarettes curl up into the sky, dissolving into nothing.

The park was filled with quiet laughter and the faint smell of pine needles, a peaceful scene hiding the thrill bubbling underneath.

That night felt different, like I was shedding something I'd been holding onto for too long.

I wasn't sure if I liked this feeling. But when Leo, who I'd known since elementary school, nudged me and held out a cigarette, my heart thumped in my chest.

"You've never smoked, have you?" He asked, voice low and teasing as I shake my head, feeling a bit... embarrassed.

Leo chuckled, holding out the cigarette, basically forcing it into my hands, "you should try it, everyone's doing it." He says as I frown softly.

"What? No. It's... bad." I mumble as he snorts, rolling his eyes at me. "You think I don't know that? C'mon, give it a try. What's the harm?"

I glanced at him, then at the others, who had their cigarettes pinched casually between their fingers, blowing smoke into the air like they'd been doing it forever.

A part of me wanted to say no. I'd heard my mother's words, harsh and nagging, ringing in the back of my mind. She'd smell it on me the second I walked in, or at least, that's what I was convinced of.

And what would she do? Scream at me, probably, or maybe worse.

But then I thought of her, sitting on the sofa, her tone flat as she ignored me, eyes glued to her phone or laptop and focused on her work.

Maybe she wouldn't even notice.

As if reading my hesitation, Ana, who was a year older and always seemed braver, came up beside me and smiled.

"Relax," she said, rolling her eyes with a small laugh. "I've got perfume and gum in my bag. My parents never notice anything."

I took a deep breath, my stomach knotting with a mix of excitement and anxiety. I looked at the cigarette in Leo's hand again, then back at Ana, who raised her eyebrows in that daring way she always did.

For some reason, I felt lighter when I was around them, like they gave me permission to be someone else, someone who didn't have to keep everything locked up all the time.

"Alright, fine." I muttered, reaching out and taking the cigarette from him, holding it in my fingers as if it were a fragile piece of glass.

It felt foreign, rough and strange against my fingertips. Leo smirked and flicked his lighter, the small flame dancing in the dusk.

I leaned in, just like I'd seen on TV, feeling silly but too determined to back out now. The tip glowed red, and the scent of burning tobacco filled my nose.

I inhaled, not really knowing what I was doing, and the smoke hit the back of my throat like a punch.

I choked, coughing and waving the cigarette away from my face as laughter erupted around me. My eyes watered, and I glared at Leo, who was grinning like he'd just won a prize.

The taste was bitter, almost metallic, and the smoke lingered in my mouth, sharp and unpleasant.

"Not as easy as it looks, huh?" Leo laughed, clapping me on the back, "shut up." I mumbled, my face warm with embarrassment.

But as I looked around, seeing Ana and the others grinning at me, I felt something else too—a strange sense of accomplishment, like I'd passed some kind of invisible test.

They weren't laughing at me. They were laughing with me. I wasn't the good girl who listened to whatever her 'mommy' said anymore, or the quiet one who never did anything daring.

I took another drag, this time slower, more careful, letting the smoke settle in my lungs for a second before I exhaled.

It still tasted awful, but there was something else there too, a weird sort of release that I couldn't explain.

It wasn't like the cigarette itself was doing anything for me, but holding it, breathing in the smoke—it felt like I was letting go of something, some weight I hadn't even realized I was carrying.

"See? You're a damn natural!" Ana grinned, pulling out a small bottle of perfume from her bag and spraying it into the air. "It's no big deal. Just remember to chew the gum, and you're set."

I nodded, glancing at the cigarette between my fingers. I still wasn't sure what the appeal was. The taste was bitter and clung to my tongue, but there was something in the ritual, in the way everyone gathered around, that felt almost comforting.

Like I was part of a secret club, one my mother didn't know about, one that was all mine.

My mind drifted as I held the cigarette, my fingers adjusting to its shape. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I hated that I cared what my mother would think, how afraid I was of her reaction.

I was tired of feeling like I was constantly waiting for her approval, tired of holding back, of never doing anything just for myself.

I inhaled again, slower this time, letting the smoke fill me up. And in that moment, I could almost understand it—the pull, the attraction to this tiny thing that was so simple and yet seemed to carry so much weight.

The sharpness of the smoke, the burn at the back of my throat, it felt like it was scraping something away, some layer of myself that I didn't need anymore.

"Seems like you're getting carried away. You good?" Leo asked, his eyes curious but with a hint of something else—adoration, maybe.

It was like he saw me differently now, like I wasn't just the quiet girl who always did what she was supposed to do.

What her mother told her to do.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to sound casual, like this was no big deal. "I'm good."

We sat there for a while, passing around cigarettes, laughing about stupid things that didn't matter, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was letting go.

Like I was finally allowed to be whoever I wanted, without anyone else's expectations weighing me down.

As the sun dipped below the trees and the sky turned dark, I realized I was dreading going home, back to the silence, the harshness of her words, and the constant feeling of being not quite enough.

But here, with my friends, the laughter, the sharp taste of smoke still lingering on my tongue, I felt like I was miles away from all of it.

This was mine, this little rebellion, this tiny act of defiance.

All mine.