Guns & Roses (WATTYS 2017)

twenty five - then & now

I inhale the cloud of grey into my lungs, holding it in until my airways threaten to collapse. The burn seeps into my skin and into my mind and I feel like a plugged chimney. 

I exhale, practically fogging the window in front of me with the now white cloud of smoke. 

Thoughts of my mother cloud my mind like the thick smoke. 

The sight of the pristine beige sidewalk in front of the window, with little scuffs of chalk and mud from the feet of little children. 

"Mom, why can't we go play outside?" I asked, tugging at the skirt hanging around her waist, the fabric stretching down to the ground. 

"Because we have to wait until daddy's friends are done in the yard." She whispered down at me, crouching down and grabbing me in her arms, even though I was nearly seven years old. 

"Daddy? I thought he was still living in California?"  I asked as I wrapped my hands around her neck. 

"He's... his friends came for a visit to stand in the yard, to check on the house." I can tell my mother is lying, but I don't question it as she carries me up the stairs and into my room. 

She sets me down on the floor and I stand up quickly, moving over to the window. 

"Stay here, Kitty." She says, using the nickname I had always adored. 

And then she exited the room, the sound of her feet shuffling down the stairs then the slam of the door closing. 

And like the curious child I am, I scramble towards the window, stepping onto my toes so that I can see above the ledge. 

I can see my mother's arms wrapped around her shoulders, rubbing up and down, a gesture she always did while nervous. She's moving towards two men clad in dark suits, both far taller than my mother. 

She was a surprisingly tall woman, with long legs and hair to match. 

I can see her mouth moving widely, and she's obviously yelling. 

I reach up and to open the window slightly. I need to hear what mom's yelling about. 

And my thin fingers unlatched the window and began to lift it up. 

"What the-" 

"Katya?" 

I jump violently at the intruder of my memories, my head banging against the glass of the window. 

"Shit..." I mutter, rubbing the side of my head with my palm gently. 

I look up to see Luka, his mouth curved slightly, as he attempts to hold in a laugh. 

"Mind if I sit?" He asks, gesturing to the open space across from me on the window seat, and I nod slightly, moving my attention back to the window. 

He shuffles slightly, attempting to accommodate his oddly long legs. He settles for crossing them tightly in front of him. 

A silence lingers between us, as I begin to bite slightly at my thumb nail, a thing I always did as a child when nerves took over. 

"Look about this morning-" 

"Got a smoke?" I interrupt him, not wanting to have this conversation now, or well, ever.  

He stares at the already lit cigarette in my fingers, and raises an eyebrow at me. 

I sigh, and shove the cigarette into the ash tray next to the window seat, the sizzling sound of its extinguishing echoing in my ears. 

I raise an eyebrow back at him, almost a challenge. 

"Um, yeah I think so." He mutters, and riffles around in the pocket of his flannel, revealing a single cigarette and a bright pink lighter. 

"Nice lighter." I scoff half-heartedly. 

He simply gives me a rye smile, and holds the lighter up to the cigarette as I place it against my lips. 

I suck in the smoke, holding it in briefly, and exhaling against the window.   

"I know this is all weird for you-"

"Weird doesn't even begin to cover it, Luka." I whisper, coughing slightly. 

"This isn't easy for me either-"

"Why are you even helping me?" I interrupt him again, and I watch as his jaw tightens slightly. "Your father and brother want me dead, as well as my mother and they expect you to aid them in this insane goal. It would be so much easier for you to just hand me to them and then go back to your life." I ramble, waving my hands around wildly, and refusing to look him in the eye. 

"Don't you understand yet, gringita?" He snaps, grabbing me by the chin to try and force my gaze. But I don't budge, averting my eyes to the side of him, and far from his eyes. 

"You're so infuriating." He groans huskily, a sound that sends warm chills down my arms. 

I don't reply. I can feel the heat of his eyes against my cheek and I squeeze mine shut, scared of what would happen if our eyes met. 

"I don't want to be like them, don't you get it? I don't want to rule by fear or ruin families, tear them apart. And the minute I realized who you were...I knew that I could save you from that life. I could save you from my father and brother. But your heart is too damn big, you want to save your mother. You're too good!" His voice grows louder with each word, and he jumps up from the window seat, pacing back and forth, his jaw set. 

"You're impossibly good. You have this hero complex where you feel as if you need to fix everything or that everything is your fault and it's so ugh!" He groans, flailing his fists. I don't know whether to be terrified or amused. 

"You're too trusting, you're too compassionate, you're too perfect." He's rambling now, his lips moving a mile a minute and my mind hooks onto his last three words. 

You're too perfect. 

"You're like a parasite. I can't get rid of you, there's just something about you that I need or I have no idea what it is but can't you understand why I want you with me? Why I want to help you find your mother?" 

He looks at me, his brows raised, as if he's expecting an answer. 

I have no words to say. Or maybe I do, but the feeling building in my chest isn't explainable. It's eating me alive, and I can't breath or maybe I'm breathing too much. 

"I don't...I don't know." I choke out, my voice hoarse. 

He stares at me, speechless, his brows lowered now in a look of concentration. And he begins to move towards me quickly, his eyes locked on my lips and his hands grab at my waist, hoisting me upwards with the utmost ease. 

His lips are a hair's length away from mine and my eyes begin to close-  

"Luk - oh, sorry." 

Luka and I jump apart, the cigarette falling from my fingers and landing on the carpet. 

I move backwards, a hand wrapped around myself, my face flushed a deep scarlet. 

"I'll just...I'll just go." Roman wheels out of the room as fast as possible. 

You could split the tension in the room with a knife. 

"I'm..I'm sorry, just forget about..." Luka stutters, and I begin to move towards him when he reels backwards, his eyes wide, as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep. 

And then he disappears from the room, leaving me more confused than ever.