Collaborated Damage

Chapter Two

                                      When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.          

                                    -William Shakespeare-              

I first saw Hellen four years ago. She was behind the shcool playing her violin. I've seen her a few times never really paying attention to her in the halls. She was classical, I was punk rock. The sound she was making I never heard before, it was soft and wailing, making you want to get down onto your knees and cry.

I stayed out of her sight watching her play. I could never play my music like that, to be so into it that it made me cry. I watched the tears fall down her face feeling similar ones on my own. Occasionally she would stop, swaying her head to the invisible notes, wiping the tears with the back of her hand. She was in her own world, a world of music. I wanted that.

I felt guilty, like I was intruding on a special moment. Maybe I was, I will never know. 

She was so thin, when I first glanced at her I assumed she starved herself, but I dismissed that notion. Her hair was long and dark, curling slightly at the ends. Her hips were narrow and bony, you could see through her black dress, and her chest was flat as a board. The front part of her hair was clipped back revealing a thin pale face with wide dark eyes.

She wasn't like the classic beautiful, but her eyes (the best part of her features) out shone anything. I stepped forward hesitantly. She wasn't the usual kind of person I was around. The people I dated, befriended, all liked the things I liked. This girl is from a whole new world. I think I fell in love with her the moment I saw her playing the violin.

I also usually went for a girl who had, well you know, curves. Something a little extra to grab onto. But here was Helen, a tiny thing. She looked like she could be snapped in two. I imagined my hands wrapping around her waist. Her collar bones were just endearing and I wanted her. 

"You play pretty-uh, good." Oh my, the awkwardness. You can't just stalk someone and let them know.

"Thanks," Her voice was soft and quiet, like a babbling crick.

She was the quiet type. I really didn't like that in a girl. I liked those loud girls, the ones who stated their opinions. The ones who weren't afraid to go down into the mosh pit with me. The ones who could stand up for themselves. 

"Yeah, I'll uh, see you around." I left then in a hurry. Hastily, like my Aunt T used to say.

After I left, I had some sort of goofy grin that scared my friends and teachers who were so used to my sullen looks. 

--

My fingers strummed the guitar's strings. I attracted a crowd, some occasionally tossing a few dollars in my case. The park was the best place to preform.

"Come on doll and walk with me, come on doll sing with me. Ignore the cries from hell on high, just take  my hand and walk with a blind eye..." My voice filled the air, the grey sky seemed to welcome my miserable words.

"Where are you goin' doll, why did you leave? Stitch me back together and take my hand. In the visions of the night, I see your ghostly figure. And I see, and I see, where you went and why you left." My fingers moved quickly and angrily. 

"You were a holy dream, a holy dream, one that I had the chance to live. You played me a haunting melody in the night, you were a lonely siren guiding me away from my life. Your love was a story that couldn't compare, 

Oh doll come on and walk with me, come on doll and sing to me. Ignore the cries and pleads, please follow your dreams, ignore my hand and grasp reality. 

Run doll run, far from this horror, all my friends are killers. Run doll run, save yourself, "

--

Our first date we went bowling. It took me weeks into getting her comfortable to talking to me, let alone being around me. Anyways we went to the bowling alley downtown. When I picked her up her parents were weary around me, I mean why not? 

I was a suspicious guy older than their daughter who had piercings, tattoos, and all that jazz. They let me in the house offering me a drink which I declined quietly, waiting for Helen to appear. Mr. and Mrs. Henely were not what you would imagine Helen's parents would be like.

Mr. Henely was a tall man, lanky almost. He behaved like a child, always going on about his latest experiment and a new gadget that just came out in Japan. Mrs. Henely was a small woman who had rosy cheeks, she seemed to be always laughing. She was quiet and loved working outside, and seemed to always find something funny or pervasive in anything.

Finally Helen came down stairs. Her hair was pulled back into a long braid. She was wearing a long dress, well long for this age. The dresses hem touched her knees. Her deep eyes were makeup less, just like the rest of her face. She looked like the perfect date for a jock, or some successful man, but in the end she was with me. 

I drove her downtown letting her change the radio station. She wasn't a very good bowler, she could hardly pick up the ball. So I bowled for the both of us. She would cheer whenever I got her a strike or something. She was smiling and happy, so unlike her usual self.

That became the best bowling experience I've had. I did all the hard work, while she would watch me with a knowing smile. I've always wondered how she could read me, like I was one of her many notes on a music sheet. 

--

I put my guitar in it's rightful case. The money went into my pocket, I'd give it to Annette for rent. The people slowly left the half circle they formed around me, thinking of where they heard that voice before. Where they shared the misery with. Then it would leave their minds until they heard it again.

Someday someone would figure out who I was. Was. 

The wind was cold, and the leaves were falling. I felt like I was falling, falling away into Neverland. The ground seemed to move and the litter and other undesirables danced around my feet. Everything was turning into a poem. 

Really, is life anything but a story?