Broken Cigarettes

chapter 7

chapter 7

"you know, smoking kills" Derek said sneaking up to me, holding out his smoke for me to light.

"ha-ha" I say, "that is kind of a hypocritical thing to say" I tell him, staring at is unlit cigarette.

"aren't you going to light it"? He asks with a smile on his face, his eyes crinkling at the sides.

"lighter doesn't work anymore, need a new one, don't have money" I told him, summing everything up in the smallest amount of words possible. 

He makes a 'thinking' noise.  "how much you got"? He asks.

"about $2, lighters cost $2.50" I tell him.  It's so depressing  being 50 cents less.

"here" he said holding his hand up to me, with two quarters laying his palm.

I hesitate on grabbing them, I might accidentally touch him, and touching is a no-no.

I pick up the coins, the pads of my fingers scraping is palm in the slightest. 

It gets me thinking, I will never be touched by anyone ever again; which both excites and disappoints me. 

"so, there is this party Friday and-"he starts.

"I don't attend parties," I cut him off.

His face falls, like I crushed him into tiny dust particles. 

"well are you working Friday"? He asks me.  I shake my head. "then we can hang out.  Just me, no one else.  What do you say"? He asks me with a hopeful smile.

"I don't know" I trail off.

"come on, please"

"I don't hang out with people"

"But you do with me.  So please.  I'll even let you kiss me" he says jokingly.

I shake my head and stare up at him.  I don't know why, but I don't want to be the reason he gets upset.  I like him smiling, and happy to spend time with me, even though it won't be forever. 

"fine" I give in.

"with a little touching"? He says wiggling his eyebrows.

I shook my head, glaring at him, which only widened his smile.

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"I   want you gone for the rest of the day.  I don't mean out of sight, I mean out of this house" uncle matt told me when I walked through the old creaky door.

His eyes bloodshot, he smelled of alcohol.

"I'm having a woman over and I don't want you messing it up" he told me, opening and pushing me out the door I just entered from not even 10 seconds ago. 

"but-what will I eat for dinner" I asked anxious, hoping he'll just let me stay curled up in the shelter of my room.

"fine here is-" he said handing me a bunch of coins. " - some money.  Don't be back until tomorrow after school" he snarled slamming the door, almost hitting my face in the process.

I look at the few coins he gave me.  Adding up to about 85 cents.  'Cause you can get a great dinner for less than a dollar apparently.

Does uncle matt mean stay gone for the entire night as well?

Where will I sleep?  Where will I go?  Nowhere, I have nowhere to go.

Walking, walking to nowhere.  It was starting to get dark out, the street light turning on.  My stomach rumbling in hunger, my mind running in endless thoughts that would make any grandmother weep in terror.

I can't go to a shelter; I have been there once.

 I kept money in my pillow, I was sleeping on the top bunk. The next morning I found a big knife slash in the pillow and my money gone ((true story btw)). 

I sat down on the curb, in a gutter, which would probably where I am sleeping for the night.

It was gross, dirty, the slight smell of marijuana filled the air.

I heard rough footsteps passing me.  There were a few people walking by, but one pair of footsteps were actually coming closer to me.  I curled into a tight ball as a reflex.

"hey Rory" said a familiar voice.

I look up to a pair of green orbs staring down at me in confusion.  I nodded in acknowledgment.

"what are you doing around this neighbourhood, besides at the place you work" he said shifting his weight to the opposite foot.

I shrugged noticing he was carrying a brown paper bag, the most likely had alcohol in it.

I needed something to calm my thoughts, and I didn't get a chance to get my blade.

I reached for the paper bag in his hand, but he pulled away.  I looked up to see he shook his head at me.

"where's your place?  I'll walk you home" he told me, gesturing me to stand up, I obediently did.

" Cant" I replied.

"why not"?

"this is where I'm staying tonight" I whispered to him.  His eyes went wide, then back to normal in recognition.

"my dad's not home tonight.  You can stay at my place" he offered.

"really"?

He nodded, his hand moving towards me, but stopped when I shuddered away from him.

"follow" was all he said before he started taking long strides away from me.  I picked up my backpack.  I had to sprint to catch up to him.

His apartment was small, and almost destroyed looking.  He walked me up to a metal staircase that looked to lead to one of the windows on the second floor.

I had to crawl through the small window and was immediately in a small navy painted room.

"the only place to sit is the bed" he grumbled taking out a dark brown bottle of Jack Daniels from the paper bag he was holding.

His walls were covered with posters of rock bands and women in bikinis. 

The floor was covered in clothes and paper and stuff, that it took me a while to figure out it was a floor I was standing on and not a giant pile of garbage.

The room had a guy aroma to it.  I don't know how to describe it, but it smelled masculine and like Derek.

He sat on his unmade bed taking off his dark grey hoodie, revealing a white v-neck.  His arms had tattoos on them.  Words, a tribal tattoo, a skull.  There were stars, birds, even thorns.  All leading to his shoulders and torso.  I couldn't get a very good look at his art, so I went to get a closer look.

I knelt beside him, taking his arm in my hand.  There were scars, white lines weaving throughout the tattoos.  There was a sliver gun tattoo on his wrist.  All his tattoos were pieces of living art.

I didn't realize how close I had gotten till I looked up to see Derek's nose about 2 inches away from mine.  I quickly backed away; disappointment was etched on his face.

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