The Infatuation Phase.

The Window.

It was terrible having a neighbour because you could hear every sound that comes out of the thin walls that separate us, but I was deeply infatuated with her. Everything about her clouded my thoughts. 

I had met her once, at a neighborhood block party. She was wearing a loose black cardigan with a white tank underneath which hugged her upper body in every way possible. Her skinny jeans and black vans added so much simplicity to her, making her features much more define.  

Her long brown hair framed her face perfectly. As she glanced my way, her pretty brown eyes stared back at my own. They showed a glint of the sun that was beating down on a late spring's day. Her smile was so wide, I smiled myself. She was beautiful in every way possible. 

We had walked home together, and everything about her was bright. She was my age, she went to the same school as I did. Her thoughts were as vibrant and vivid as ever with every word she said and every laugh she gave towards my lame jokes. We could've talked for hours on end, and I had never forgotten our conversation. 

She never made an appearance besides school and the one time at the block party, but that was it. I would catch her by her window, talking on the phone, as I did my English papers. She would look at me intently and give a small wave. At least she acknowledged my existence. 

Her father was very strict. He had yelled at her, every chance he got. She would be in her room crying every night, as her drunk father pounded on her door. Her mother, however, couldn't be there for her. She had died due to cancer earlier before the block party. Her father was in a very depressed state after her death, in which he took swigs of Jack to make himself feel better. 

She had no one to look up to. It was school, then home. But everyday, there would be screaming and yelling and crying, I couldn't bare to hear the noises that came through those thin walls. I curse those thin walls every night, keeping me awake hearing her cries and yells for help. 

But how could she smile so bright? It was nearly impossible to fake such a beautiful smile as hers. I had knew this a long while ago, however I had done nothing about it. I feel terrible, for leaving a beautiful angel like her stuck with a satanic father. She was just amazing, and she deserved so much better. 

My parents were divorced, and no one besides my mom was at home who was a workaholic. She loved me, and there was nothing else in the world I could ask of her. She was trying so hard in a world so cruel, and still she managed to put food on the table and pay the bills without my assistance. 

Tonight however, was taken to another level. Her father was finally in her room. His figure was tall and buff, slowly approaching her. He put his lips to the bottle, and chugged every content of it. There was more yelling, more screaming, it was like hearing only the sounds to horror movies, but not being able to see the image. I kept to myself, hoping and praying she would be okay, but everything went dead silent followed by the sound of a slap and a bottle crashing towards the hard floors. 

The door had slammed just loud enough to tell me it was my cue. I had to see what was going on with her, my precious angel that had just gone through hell and back. 

I climbed to her window, and saw her curled in bed with no sheets to protect her from the frigid cold she was experiencing. She was shaking uncontrollably, with nobody to help her.

The goosebumps were starting to appear on her arms and neck as she turned towards the window to see me. I waved, and as she stood up, her legs were marked red and purple with bruises. 

She was damaged, broken and deteriorated. But she was still no doubt about it, flawless. I saw nothing about her that could change my mind about her. She was a frail angel, and all I wanted to do right now was hold her. 

She opened the window, and without a doubt didn't question what we were about to do. I held out my hand for her to take, and led her down the walls of a house, not a home. 

She slipped her fingers between mine, and I held her gently, afraid that she may just break. I pulled her close towards my chest as she sobbed into my sweatshirt. I rubbed small circles on her back, and in a soft whisper, told her I was with her now. She took a grip on my hand, and I just held it even tighter.

Her beet red eyes stared into mine and we ran together on the streets. We ran, walked, and talked all in a few hours. We stood in the middle of the road and looked up to the stars only wishing for what we had wanted in life. She looked up to the sky eyes shut,  still hand in hand. I looked up to the sky as well, but I turned toward her. She was my dying wish, that someday her and I may end up together. 

I looked back at her, and she was staring back at me as the light beyond her had lit up as the sun had started to rise. I took a firm hold on her hand, and we ran back to my house. I took her through my doors, up the stairs and towards my room. 

I held her close, turning on the music I had been playing last night. We stood there in the middle of my room swaying to the lyrics: 

And the tears come streaming down your face,

When you lose something you can't replace, 

When you love someone but it goes to waste. 

Could it be worse?

I glanced at the window that looked at hers. It was a silent house as always in the morning. But instead of her being there, she was here in my arms. 

Lights will guide you home,

Her eyes were starting to shut, as they fluttered against my chest. My heart was pounding faster and faster as she leaned towards me. 

And ignite your bones.

I looked at her one last time, and kissed her forehead.  I took her to my bed, and lay her fragile body there, just admiring her beauty. I put wrapped a blanket over her, then laid beside her. I slipped my arms under hers, pulling her closer to provide her warmth. She was an angel. 

And I will try to fix you.