Ignescent

(These are my original ideas. I haven't based this off of anything I've read previously, just a dream I had one night. Meaning this will not be like anything else and if you do decide to use my ideas then I deserve some form of credit. The people used in this story do not belong to me so their actions may not reflect their personality. Thank you for deciding to read Ignescent©)

[prologue]

My jeans clung to my body while his shirt clung to his. Most people would take the opportunity to stare at the swirls of ink on his skin through his thin white shirt and think about what they meant, if they did mean anything. Usually I'd be one of those people, but my rage had me blindsided.

I angrily began to throw my paint brushes at him. Sadly they were clean, which made me even angrier.

"You ruined everything!"

"I made it better."

He made me laugh. A cold, dry laugh.

"If better means to ruin something that means the world to me, then you did great!"

People turned to look at the two annoying people whom disrupted the atmosphere of an Art Show. There's supposed to be soft chatter, clicking of glasses. Not a depressed girl and a deep-minded boy who would never resurface.

A security guard came to take us out of the gallery. The gallery of the Art Show that featured a piece of my art. How refreshing. Outside was darker than I thought it was making me shout towards the sky.  I pulled off my heels and walked to the end of the boardwalk. He was following close behind me. Stupid long legs giving a little more length to his step.

"You can't keep running away from your problems Eliza!" he huffed out.

"Oh yeah, because your so great at not running away from everything else right?" I roll my eyes. "You're such a hypocrite."

"Yeah, well. You're a bitch. Always trying to tell me what to do, like your my mother!"

"Maybe it's because I lost my mother! Did you ever consider that?"

He got quiet then. Absorbing the heaviness of the whole scenario. Feeling the weight of it being lifted off my shoulders. By now we made it to the sand.  Nothing else was said for a while.

"I'm sorry. I just. I forgot..and I know--"

"Whatever. "

"But ,--"

"Shutup. Just Shutup."

So we sat on the beach as the wind blew and whipped our hair against our faces and smelled the salty breeze while we studied the rocks and looked anywhere but at each other. The words calmed down but the intensity of it and the tension still clung to the air. I lifted my head and squinted towards the water as I spoke.

"Have you ever loved me?" And I began to throw the rocks at the water as he thought.

"No." He whispered. It was so low that I almost thought it was the wind.

"Oh." My lack of emotion came across as the tears welled over and the rocks sunk below the surface.

"Have you ever loved me?" He said as he repeated my actions and threw some rocks himself.  I took that moment to think . My hand movements stopped and I could feel his eyes on me so I turned to look up and stared into his beautiful eyes.

"I never stopped."

We sat there just staring at each other before I broke the trance and looked away.

"Are you happy?" He asked.

"No."

"So that's why you cut your wrists?"

"Yeah." I wonder how he knew.

"Beth, how many times?" He sighed as he rubbed his hands over his face. It made me fall even more if that's possible.

"27 each." I said.

"Why aren't you happy?"

So I took the opportunity to say the first thing on my mind.

"Because."

"Because?"

"Because the person I love doesn't love me. Because so many things. Because even though I know everyone has imperfections there's nothing about me that's good. All I am is imperfections and that's not good enough for you."

I got up and walked away because his  silence confirmed every word and doubt that left my mouth making it all that much more true.

If my mother was alive she'd approve of me. She always said, "Never let a man see you cry , for you shall be named weak. And the weak will be played with like a toy." No matter how much his gaze burned my back, nor how much I longed to be next to him again. I couldn't keep giving in to the temptation called him.

His raspy voice, soft yet rough hands, the way his lips moved or the dimples in his cheeks. All of that added into the equation of him.

This was a sign, I thought. It wasn't meant to be. Yet , I wanted to cry, scream, and just die all at once. My heart shriveled in my chest as my last bit of hope drained away. This hurt more than my broken leg when I was 7, or the first time I cut. No, this was real pain. The kind that means stop trying because it's never gonna happen. You get this when you give up and I have finally gave up.

The only way to get through pain is to find closure or numb yourself until you do. I believe I will be doing both.