The Water Woman

Elements and Feelings

She's at home in the water, fiery on land, yet sturdy and stable like earth. She flows when she walks and her touch is as soft as air. She's like the elements. I'm like someone dropped in hell. Someone who's grasping for light. I think I've found it in her. But I want more than just to be around her. The only darkness I see in her is that which she holds with herself. Why can't I be as pure? She talks to herself because no one else listens. That's how she deals with her darkness. Her eyes are water and her skin is snow. Her hair is earth and fire and her mood and personality are a combination of all elements. Why am I writing this?

I was bored so I tried to describe how I see her. It's been a while since I have written. I've been caught up with school... and home. I don't really know what to write. (Author's note: No, seriously. I don't know what to write. Legit, me.)

After what happened, I'm not sure what to say.

Maybe I should elaborate. I... came to school with bruises and cuts. I don't want to say how I got them, not even on paper. Sage came and noticed a cut on my lip and she noticed that I wore a shirt at swim practice. She came up to me after I had left the locker room. She got so close... she noticed more cuts that I had used makeup to hide.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said trying to play it off. "It's all good."

She muttered something.

"What?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She had seen right through me. I made the mistake of still trying to play it off. "Talk about what?"

She was silent. Thinking. "Come."

"What? No! I'm fine!"

"If you're going to shrug it off and not tell me about it, then fine but let me clean the wounds and properly treat them."

"I'm not gonna get out of this am I?"

"Nope. I'm a stubborn asshole."

At least she's a truthful stubborn asshole. She took me to secluded spot along with Cooper and told us to wait she came back with a small pack. She opened it and pulled out tweezers. She also took out rubbing alcohol and cleaned the tweezers with them. She carefully removed small slivers of glass from my head. She then soaked all the spots that bled with alcohol. I winced with every touch but her light hands held my head firmly so I couldn't pull away. I found myself looking up her shirt. After she was done she smacked me on the back of the head.

"Ow! What the hell?!"

"Don't look where your not supposed to."

Damn! She notices everything.

"How did you get these?"

"I don't really remember," I lied.

"Lie."

Oh, that's what she muttered earlier, I thought.

She then pulled off my shirt and examined my bruises, making sure nothing was busted up to bad.

"Did you win?" she asked.