VALERIE

Seventy Eight

Cigarette smoke danced rhythmically in a gray cloud above Nick's somber and sullen self.

The hard concentrated gaze he had on his arm while clenching his jaw just added to his illusive mysterious nature and thoughts.

Drawing in Valerie's attention rather profusely while she sat far from him just twiddling her thumbs around lost for words to say to him.

She was shocked none the less when she walked through the front door to see him so injured, she wanted to say something but just bit her tongue instead when he limped by her without even acknowledging her presence.

She moved a piece of her messy hair behind her ear, she leaned completely back on Marco's gawdy satin couch and pulled her legs onto it to sit criss-cross.

Musing up the right words to say, she cleared her throat and looked away, "I'm glad you're okay."

Valerie didn't expect him to respond, but she felt so invisible and inferior at that moment.

Nick who was sitting in a chair by the open window, ashed his cigarette on his jeans.

Valerie intently surveyed the tired blue boy while he did so.

The cigarette leaving a nasty black burn-hole on his blue denim jeans.

Playing with her hands again, Valerie managed to smile, "Marco wanted me to help him disinfect your stitches, so shall we?" She asked awkwardly staring at him although he was to busy lighting a new cigarette up.

She couldn't see the row of stitches that were laced in Nick's head, his jet black hair covered it, the doctors wanted to shave it off to keep it from getting infected but Nick literally almost fought them.

The stitches that were visible though ran from the corner of his right lip to his ear, and he had a few above his left eyebrow.

His arms and his neck were covered in bruises, scratches and cuts although they were a bit difficult to see through all of the ink.

"Can you please just talk to me?" She said through the thick and cultivating silence.

Nick threw his cigarette out the window before reaching to the end table next to him to grab a small orange vial filled with his prescription pills.

He shook the bottle until 4 blue pills rattled out into his palm.

She still watched endlessly as he put them in his mouth and then took a drink from the bottle of cheap vodka he had on the floor next to him.

Washing the pain medicine down with the bitter liquor he finally smirked at her, his fingers tapping on the chairs arm rests.

"You're pupils are so dilated you know that?" He said sarcastically through his thick and deep voice.

"And you're not supposed to mix liquor with pain pills." She replied half heartedly with disgust.

Nick shrugged nonchalantly, "It's funner."

"It's just adderall." She retaliated right after he had.

Then it went to silence again. Nick's smug look disappeared and now he was staring at the hardwood flooring in discouragement.

There was a moment in the penetrated silence that her mind lingered to the days where they loved being in silence together.

Unspoken words that interpreted many beautiful things.

The restless nights of insomnia where she'd just lay on his bare chest and hear his irregular heartbeat.

One. Two. One. One. Two.