Girls Your Age by Tranviolet
My heart thumped furiously and relentlessly in my ears. Time always seemed to slow down during a match. It's like I could see the beads of sweat and droplets of blood fly off her face and join the ground. The roar of the drunken crowd that encircled us was replaced by the quickened state of my heart and rapid breaths.
Thump.
Skin on skin.
It's suppose to be the most intimate of things. Touching someone on else's flesh with your own. But I guess this is intimate in some way. A severely fucked up way.
My right fist connected with the tip of Pamela's chin. She dodged my left and tried to sneak me with her right. Swift and gracefully, I ducked.
"Get her!"
"Fuck. I have a hundred on her."
I took a swing and missed, my fist striking open air and throwing me off balance. Pamela took the opportunity. Her fist kissed my ear and part of my cheek. You know the sound you heard when you press a seashell to your ear? That's what I heard. A whooshing of my own personal ocean.
Jesus Fucking Christ.
That was going to leave a bruise.
I steadied myself and sent an uppercut to her chin. She stumbled backwards into the crowd.
With two more punches, she fell asleep on the blacktop to a lullaby of drunken cheers.
The early morning dew clung to my bare feet as I tiptoed passed the "Do Not Enter" sign that guarded Last Sol beach.
It's a sign, not a fucking cop.
My older brother, X, would take me on late night summer strolls through Last Sol when my mom would finally give in and pass out.
There was something about the sound of the waves that released all the tension ballooned up inside of me.
I take out a roll of gauze from my backpack and start to gingerly wrap it around my bloodied knuckles, clenching my teeth as I press it down fully.
I'm obviously used to the touchiness of it, but damn it doesn't lessen the pain.
The only light on the beach was the glaring moon and the clutter of stars saying goodnight. My feet sink further into the sand as I approach the water. I couldn't see the waves very well, but I can hear and feel them licking at my feet.
It was a pit of nothingness. A vast wonderland of the unknown. Sometimes I think of how easily it could swallow me up and I could be a part of the nothingness.
And just be.
I hear the crackle of fire before I hear the quiet chatter. Nestled on the far right side of Last Sol was a group of friends, sitting in a circle around a bonfire laughing happily.
Before I completely turn away, I spot Finn with his hand wrapped around the long neck of a beer with his head tipped back, laughing so fully that his eyes wrinkle at the sides.
YOU ARE READING
Shades of Cool
RomansaScraped knees, Coca-Cola Slushies, bruised knuckles, and a boy with a scorpion tattoo named Finnegan.