Stained Glass Souls (Wattys 2014, Collector's Dream Award Winner)

Price: A Double-Edged Sword

(Price: unedited)

It took five minutes of an elevator ride, and two strained silent smiles as they slinked to the car under cover of the settling darkness for Ariel to begin apologizing. Quietly. Head down, staring through the smudged glass of her window with a wandering expression on her face.

She rattled the knob as she spoke, avoiding his inquisitive gaze. Drawing a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, then left them sink deep into their sockets. She seemed to be crumbling right before his eyes, tucking herself into the front seat like a contortionist – feet curled beneath her, palms stretching around her body to rest upon the ridge of her spine.

He slipped into the passenger’s side, wincing as the cold leather seat bit through the legs of his worn jeans. It was almost strange that he hadn’t heard more than sorry, and mistakes, and shouldn’t have come; Ariel offered no explanation for her friend, brushing over her erratic behavior with a few murmured sentences.

They sat into silence for a while, watching as ink ran down the edges of the sunset and stars slipped into formation around the crescent moon. It had been a strange visit – the allusions, the mockery, Ariel’s fumbled words – but even stranger was Katrina herself. She was an enigma; beautiful, empty; everything to live for and nothing to leave behind.

He couldn’t help but wonder why she wanted to die. Then again, why did Ariel? Why were they drawn together, fates entangled as tightly as their misery?

It was obvious that one had taken after the other, mimicking a downward spiral – the similarities between the two girls were too shocking, too coincidental, to have been circumstantial. The bony bodies. The empty eyes. The double-edged smiles, prelude to words as sharp and excruciating as lacerations.

He wondered if Ariel had a network of painful days and sleepless nights etched into her skin. Did scars adorn her wrists, like deadly veined bracelets? Or the circumference of her thighs, the edges of her shoulders, and the backs of her knees?

Life was messed up. Reality was messed up. His father, his sister, his mother, Charliegh, had shown him that. But was it really that unbearable, that terrible? And at what point had it ceased to become survivable? Perhaps it was boredom that had driven them to this point. Perhaps it was sheer exhaustion, no motivation – no purpose or punishment – in living and dying.

Or maybe, just maybe, Ariel and Katrina harbored a fair share of secrets beneath the skin.

“She’s confused.”

His head turned toward Ariel in surprise. He had forgotten her; yet she was still sitting in the same position, staring up at the blurred night sky like it contained a constellation with the answer to her problems. “She didn’t seem confused to me.”

On the contrary. Katrina’s derisive personality radiated that stance of a girl who knew exactly what she wanted. And how she was going to get it.

“Did you know,” Ariel said suddenly, voice slow, “that seeing is believing?”

Price shifted. He tilted his chin, trying to see more than the sharp edges of her face, moonlight glowing bone-white off her sallow skin. She was thrown into shadow, dark and quiet. He wished, irrationally, that they were back in her old house, with her frail body tucked safely between his arms. He wanted to see the edge of her smile, the faint spark of defeat in her eyes.

In this position, separated by something miles wider than a car console, he felt oddly vulnerable. He pulled his jacket around him, scuffing his sneakers along the floor as he tried to focus on her words. “I thought it was a matter of opinion.”