The Gangster's Mary Jane

Bliss

"But you'll never be alone,

I'll be with you from dusk till dawn,

I'll be with you from dusk till dawn,

Baby, I'm right here,

I'll hold you when things go wrong,

I'll be with you from dusk till dawn,

I'll be with you from dusk till dawn,

Baby, I'm right here."

-Dusk Till Dawn, ZAYN ft. Sia-

Vincenzo Colombo

No words were exchanged. It had only been half an hour since the incident that left most of us stiff, but nevertheless, every minute felt like an hour. Like the time was lagging and there wasn't much we could do. Everytime I blinked my eyes away from the damaged girl in my lap, I felt like I had to look back and lock my eyes on her again before she disappeared again. And everytime anyone in the car laid a glance on her, one could only imagine the twitch of negative emotions in my head. It was guaranteed that none of them were judging her, but that didn't stop my brain from creating a scenery where I was ripping their eyes out.

I could feel the tension crawling up and down my skin, the tension that was waving around the atmosphere. I knew that it was all directed towards me. Of coarse it was. A number of guys saw me ruin my record. The record that kept for longer than anyone can remember, longer then I can remember. I don't remember the last time I let a tear pass my lower lash. No amount of water had filled my eyes that it made it harder for my waterline to hold it up.

But look, tons and pairs of eyes saw me weeping for a girl that merely looked to be in her teens. In their eyes, it could look like I was a desperate and disgusting guy that was in it for the looks of the girl. No doubt it looked like that--
picture it from far away, where the feelings and expressions and meaningful movements are the last few things in sight and interest-- and the only things highlighted will be the bad ones. How a guy was craving for a girl that was probably too young for him, he was drooling at her innocence, his eyes hungry for her little waist, her long legs, her plump lips--

But, no. That's not the case. I could feel the whispers of those nonexistent people- and I wanted to yell it out of my chest. that is not why I'm over here having sleepless and tired schedule, it's not.

I would want them to come closer and closer, until they can finally see that there were feelings and expressions and meaningful movements included when my heart was crawling, weeping and bleeding for the damaged girl. That it hurt when I could practically see the word destroyed on her delicate skin. That the guilt was biting me for I'm the reason she's hit, burnt, dragged and fucking raped.

I'm shaking from the inside out and it's visible for the world to see. But I don't care. I've pushed the walls around me away- the walls that built themselves everytime I laid my eyes on the selfish moves of someone.

And I couldn't care less. I'm not ashamed of crying-- not if it's for her. Not when I should be crying. I deserve it-- it aches and hurts but I deserve every bit of it.

Because it's nothing compared to what she's been through. What she's going through.

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