Chameleon

Haze

The smoke encased bar erupted in laughter as the group heard yet another story from their centre. The steady stream of drink had loosened their tongues as it always did and they were making full use of it as they listened to yet another one of Darcy's stories. You could always rely on her for a good story of one of her regular drunken escapades.
A petite, brown haired, vibrant girl laughed and talked indiscriminately in the centre. She always had something to say and rarely bothered to note to whom. Her blue eyes sparkled with alcohol blessed light and her soft lips always smiling. She would almost certainly end up in another's bed that night. She always did. But the night was still young.
She was still young.
The most observant would notice that Darcy was at least a year younger than most of them. 17 and already living life to the full. Or rather that was what she told everyone.
Gales of laughter followed Darcy as she told them of the escapade of the week before when she somehow got lost in Oxford whilst missing both of her shoes and leaving yet another warm bed behind. Sophie shook her head in disbelief
"How do you get yourself in these situations Darcy?" Already knowing that she would get no answer as Darcy had already moved on with another tale.
Like she always did.
No one, not even Darcy knew how or why. But surely that was the fun of it.

As the last rays of sunlight faded into stars, the bar filled up with strangers from all parts. The group had inevitably mingled with the rest of the patrons and a few were trying their luck.
Darcy was already surrounded by young men vying for her eye but, as always, she had already picked out the one who would have her that night. His brown hair brushed his shoulders framing his exquisite angular face; tall and muscular. A stranger too - just as she liked.
Her wild laughter turned his handsome face towards her petite and shapely figure.
Just as it always did.
Her voice; slightly rough and her coarse language simply added to his instant intoxication. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, left with no choice as he is entranced by this enigma. When she permitted his warm brown eyes to meet her cold blue an electric shock whipped between them.
She knew she had him.
She always knew.

A mere hour later lips crushed against each other both hungry for dominance. Hands wove themselves into hair; tugging and pulling; their bodies drowning. Tongues battled against each other as scent flooded the air around them. Bodies covered with desire mixed with sweat pressed against each other as fingers; hunters after the pleasure they could almost sense, just a brush away. Skin on skin, moan smothering moan and then silence. Waves of pleasure cascaded over them. Heads thrown back and teeth found skin.

Then it ended.
Like it always did.
Precious moments faded away as the waves settled into the haze.
Time to move on.
Always time to move on.

She gazed into his beautiful angular face as she lay in his arms. Safe. Tears forced themselves out of her eyes yet only mere pinpricks were permitted to glide down her cheeks as she controlled her breathing. She didn't even know his name.
She never knew.
There was no point in learning what she was going to leave. No point in getting attached when the hurt would come for her regardless. She was sure there was a name for what she had but she didn't want to know what it was. It wasn't going to change anything.

Ignorance was bliss. It was strength. Knowledge was a power she did not want. What she did not want them to have.
Already she could feel the haze of numbness returning to her. Like an old friend it was eager to become reacquainted. Acting like they had been separated for years rather than mere moments. And she welcomed it with open arms.
As she always did.
Carefully she left. Tear stains on the sheets already fading. He would wake up minutes later; alone. If he tried to find her he would fail. They always did.
Darcy Howard was not one for doing things twice. Once was enough, do it a second time and the first would be forever marred. That's what she always said.
And she of all people knew that if you said a lie often enough, it would eventually become truth.

Isaac picked her up. He always did. He didn't know why but that was how it went. If he got lucky Darcy would pick him up and if it was her, he picked her up. There was something about Darcy that he couldn't put his finger on. Yet whenever he almost had it she would blow it away with her laughter or some other tale. No. He didn't understand her. But there was something about her which he couldn't leave. He loved her. Not in a lovers obsession but in a love that was more suited to an older brother. Despite her outer facade there was something vulnerable about her. Not that he ever said anything. They had an unspoken agreement after all.
On the car journey back she laughed and chatted away as if nothing had happened. Her face a picture of delight and happiness. Nothing betraying what was underneath.
The emptiness.
Darcy sometimes wondered that if someone tried to take her pulse if there would be any. Her heart was still. Cold even. Sometimes she wondered if there had been a time when it had ever worked; perhaps she had only recognised its lacking as she grew older.
These thoughts were disregarded. The past was irrelevant. She was what she was. Nothing from the past would change that. Of course she had always been like this. A child cannot understand everything and everything was normal to them.
No. Her thoughts were irrelevant. Useless.
Isaac chatted away with her. If he had ever wanted to delve further into her character she had dissuaded him. Not intentionally perhaps but it had become almost a reflex on her part.

Show them what they want to see and they won't go any further. Throw enough noise and action and they won't bother to look the other way. Give them what they want and coat it with something you need.
It was effective to say the least. People she called friends whom she knew inside out knew only what she wanted them to know.
What they wanted to know.
They wanted a shoulder to cry on, she was there. They wanted words of wisdom, she was the wise one. They wanted a joke, she was the comedian. They wanted to be smart, she would be the idiot. They wanted to be stupid, she would be the genius. She would be whatever they wanted her to be.

It was part of the game. A dance of words and wishes. A masquerade.

With Darcy at the centre.

"We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves" - Françoise de la Rochefoucauld