Chim - Every Mark On My Body

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

We're on a stuffy train. We've been on it for a grand total of 10 minutes - I already feel horrid and we still have over two hours to go before we reach Bradford. Kimberley is sitting beside us, staring silently out of the grubby window and sniffling every so often. She hasn't stopped crying since we left, only hiccupping through sobs to direct us to the train station and tell us what tickets to buy. We had to wait at the platform for an awkward 15 minutes, standing beside each other and yet neither of us initiating our usual close contact. I wanted to comfort her so badly, when I watched her crying me heart panged painfully. But after what happened at her flat, how confused I was and still am, I couldn't bring meself to act normal. And so, like the shitty person I am, I stood there and let her salty tears splash onto the pavement without a soul to help them subside. 

And now we sit side by side on the train in the same situation. The hot gap between her thigh and mine is swirling with tension and worry and awkwardness, burning a hole into me jeans. She keeps shifting in her seat and taking deep breaths. Either she's trying to stop herself from crying or she's building up to say something. I don't know what to do. I'm confused about her and meself and me life. I'm not attracted to any girls, just her. Her and her cute giggles and her warm hugs and her stunning curves. And her face, of course. Sometimes I wonder how she got so blessed when I look at her, rounded cheeks just radiating beauty and full lips encasing a pair of pearly white teeth. Eyes that cannot be defined with a simple colour, but that transport you into another world of allure and elegance. Delicacy. And the ideal colour hair that billows effortlessly around her face, across her shoulders and down her back. Hair that looks healthy and complements her look whether it's up or down. But if I just like to look at her, maybe I'm just jealous? In my eyes, she is perfection. The perfect role model for any girl. Not fat, but not a stick insect. Doesn't go out wearing buckets of make up, but still makes her way around with confidence in her stride - head held high and shoulders pushed back. Headstrong. Hardworking. Independent. I don't want to mistake envy and admiration for attraction.

But, if I'm 100% honest with meself, I don't just like to look at her. I crave her contact - her hugs and her cheek kisses. Even when she fleetingly places a hand on me hip or me back as she moves past us. The little things. All of them send shivers down me spine and I know then that I see her as more then a friend. For the short time I've known her, we've never had a friendly relationship. It's like on TV when a guy goes up to a girl in a bar, straight away they have more than a friendship. If there's a mutual attraction there, they don't bother spending time making friends first because they know they both want something more anyway. So, the relationship is formed on romantic foundations. And somehow that seemed to happen with us and Kimberley. Between the instant connection and the caring, intimate touches we always had something more. Something that I've never experienced in me life.

And yet I can't help but feel that it's wrong. I can't seem to come to terms with it. It's like it's all the caring I've ever wanted but at the same time I can't let meself get too attached to it. When she kissed us. There was one little guy in me head telling us that I was attracted to her so I should go for it, and then a second guy telling us to stop because it wasn't right. Wasn't normal. And eventually, the second little guy won.

And the worst thing about it is that I can't tell which little guy is a devil, and which is an angel.

'C-Cheryl?'

'Yeah?'

Kimberley turns her head away from the window and round to face us. Her eyes are bloodshot and the area around them puffy, her chin still wobbling slightly. 

'Will y-you stay with m-me at the ho-hospital? I don't kno-know how they are-'

'Of course I will, don't be silly.'