perilous | hemmings

ii

middle class new york, 2014
5:14 p.m.

i stare at the television with bored eyes,
not exactly paying attention, but watching the cast of the reality show act on what wits they had left. my god, i could act better. everyone was so stupid.

that's why I'm considered awkward; when the real reason i don't talk much is because people are, like i said before, fucking stupid. i don't like mingling with idiots. but then, you could also call me a hypocrite, because my best friends are all the epitome of fucking stupid. but they can sing.

my thoughts begin to wander to the happenings of yesterday morning. that girl. the one I pledged I was going to talk to, tried to commit suicide. darling, don't you know to always lock the door?

she saw me, too. she saw me leaning against her apartment complex, the cute brick ones that my mom was going to move into, before she found out about her, about how i wanted to get to know her. but god, was she beautiful. i'd wreck her; in more ways than one.

you see, i'm not the most...stable, boy in this city. i have this thing i do whenever i grow fond of something, or in this case, someone. i have a habit of destroying them. emotionally and physically. and so, my mom didn't move into those. because she knew i was growing on more and more to even just the thought of the ivory skinned girl.

and mom couldn't let me destroy another one, no, not again. but I wouldn't blame her. who would want a son that robs stores and destroys the innocent? certainly not a middle class math teacher.

i walk out of the house, into the frosty, new york air that crept in, past your skin, and touched your bones.

"lucas? where are you going?" mom yells loudly. "with the boys?"

my feet round the corner, ignoring her for the throb of the base in my ears. when will she ever learn, that there was no way in hell that i was ever going to hang out with them, when the option of such a grossly beautiful girl existed.

no way in hell I was just going to halt any chance talking to her! i knew first hand that she was back. i saw someone driving her back home in a black honda, ignoring everything she said. she eventually got pissed, threw her hospital band at him, and hopped out of the car. good thing it was only going about five miles, or she would have broken her pretty little neck.

as the building comes into view, i watch as a black backpack is tossed out of a window on the first story, and a girl climbing out after it. it was her. oh fuck.

the collar of her black neck deep tee has been cut off, the shirt hanging loosely on her shoulders and revealing her collarbones (which, by the way, were so prominent, that they showed even while she had a flannel and coat on). she had her dirty dr. martens on, the shoes that always seemed to adorn her small feet, slightly too big, and her skinny jeans hugged her legs in all the best ways that I didn't even think were possible. The princess' lips were plastered with bright red lipstick that added a pop of color to her otherwise black outfit.

she drapes her backpack over her shoulders, and our eyes lock. her's were the deepest and most empty shade of brown that I'd ever seen.

she approaches me.

"hey."

my cheeks flush a heated primrose.

"h-hi?" i stutter, looking away slightly.

damn. maybe i was awkward.

"you watched as those whores kidnapped me away from eternal happiness."

"yeah."

she smirks, cherry stained lips twitching upwards.

"i'm sage."

sage. I run it over and over in my mind, letting it sink into my bones.

"luke."

she gives a curtsy, lifting the ends of her black and red flannel.

"you should come with me."

"i-" stopping myself, i bite my lip. your new year's resolution was to talk to her, right? "where are we going, exactly?"

"to pick up some mary jane,"

she turns on her heel, briskly walking down the usual crowded sidewalk, and leaving me with a smirk painted across my face.