Shielded.

Chapter 7

When my nerves have finally chilled out from Manson's compliment. I make my way outside on the balcony where I was the night before.

The sky is blue and the sun feels warm on my pale skin. The breeze runs through my hair, reminding me of Brian's hands. The way they felt, and how gentle he was. He's a genuinely sweet soul, just no one has ever taken the time to see that in him.

My mind is pacing. I remember how it felt when I was "falling" and how it felt when I "hit the ground" maybe that was reality's way of telling me to wake up.

Maybe it was waking me up to how Brian truly is. Maybe he isn't as sweet as I make him out to be. Maybe he truly is a monster on the inside.

I stop myself. I start again.

Why are you the way you are, Charlie? Why do you panic and complain so much? Why do you always find yourself seeing the worst in everything? You are truly pathetic. A wreck. You're useless.

I want to run away. I want to be everything I swore I'd never be. I want to be everything my mother taught me not to be.

So be it.

The wind is now blowing harshly, causing me to feel chills. So I walk back inside, gently turning the door knob and closing the door. I sit down on the couch next to Twiggy and his girlfriend, a hungover Kennedy walks into the door shortly behind me. Her hair a mess, and make up smeared across her face. I don't even think it's her make up.

"Hey Charlie." She says. She waves a little.

"Hey. Where did you go last night? After I fell asleep?"

"Next door. I was just partying with some friends."

"When are we leaving?"

"Why? Are we in a rush?"

"No. I just-" I'm interrupted by Manson.

"Why don't you guys just hang with us all day today, and then come to the show uptown again tonight?" Manson asks, looking at us both.

"Well I-" I'm cut off again.

"Yeah sure!" Kennedy exclaims.

I forget that I don't exist.

I just get quiet and I stay quiet. I get up and retire myself to the bed that I slept in. There's a notebook and a pen on the night stand next to me. I pick it up and begin jolting down what I'm thinking. But Manson enters the room, sitting next to me, he asks, "Hey, what are you writing?" He looks at the notebook.

"How I feel right now. What happened last night, how I felt then. I don't know. I don't ever know how I feel."

"You write down everything you think?"

"No. Not everything. But most things."

"Well what are you writing right now?"

"Gee. Nosy or...?" I laugh a bit.

"No! I was just-"

"Hey. It's fine. I was kidding calm down."

He's silent for awhile.

Why do I always make things so awkward? You aren't funny Charlie.

"Hey... Uh. Are you hungry? You should eat something, it'll help you from being so sick later today from the acid."

"No. I don't eat in the mornings. I'll be fine. Thank you."

He pauses again.

"You know, you can't always be distant from me. You can't be distant from everyone you meet forever."

I stare back at him. I don't know what to say.

"Writing down how you feel will only do you good for awhile. We are all monsters. We all have rage, and I know you do. Especially you. You're quiet and you get embarrassed easily."

"I know. Can you stop?"

"No. Not until you tell me more about yourself. I want to know why you are so quiet."

"No."

"Tell me." He reaches over and grabs my hand. It feels reassuring. It feels like he genuinely wants to know. It feels good.

I stumble to find words.

"No. In the end, you are only out to hurt me. Let go of my hand."

He retrieves his hand and swallows nervously. Tampering with his lip ring.

I walk out of the room and breathe in. I'm outraged right now. So I burst back into the room.

"People like you are the reason I feel like this. You think you can just manipulate me into falling in love, and telling you how I feel, and sharing myself with you. You think you can just squeeze yourself into my cracks and just break down my walls. You don't want anything to do with me, Brian! You don't want to be with someone who is broken and disfunctional."

He stands up and walks over to me. His figure tall, and lanky towers over me.

"You think you can just control your feelings, and control when you get hurt. But you can't. You're wrong." He says. His voice raspy, and calm.

"I can't stand you. We just met and I already can't stand you."

"That won't last long."

"God. You are conceited, and ridiculously immature."

He chuckles.

Reality- 1
Charlie- none

Hiiii. Sorry for a late update. I hope you enjoyed this (: vote, follow, comment. Whatever.! Thank you so much for reading.

Marissa. 💫