Blonde Ivory

#6: Macha Emerson-Cleary

Macha Levay-Fitzgilbert (Bassist for Blonde Ivory)

I knew something was wrong with Hayden the minute she walked through the door adorned with her usual poker face because this time she was pinching her wrist. Hayden had done it so many times in the past that it could easily be over-looked, but I'm not the type to overlook things. I calmly get off the couch and walk towards her. Once I reach her and grasp onto her wrists gently, stroking absentmindedly over her scars; I try to manipulate my aura and my facial expression into my more soothing counterpart. It's how I figuratively get people. Whenever I can physically feel myself being light-weight and drunk like, I know that my effect on people is much the same.

Hayden loosens her tense muscles into my touch, and I know I've got her. I pull her towards my bedroom, a sense of relief arises in my stomach when I realize that Shiloh goes to sleep by 8 PM and Kasey is out getting illegally wasted. Hayden's breathing is hushed, almost as if she's gasping every time she inhales. I shut the door behind us and lead her to my neatly made bed. She sits down in one stiff motion, and I kneel in front of her knees.

"What's wrong, Hayden?" I ask, the tone in my voice seems sultry and alive even to me. Hayden's empty facial expression seems so watered down and exhausted, and I instantly feel like this isn't the time to seduce her. It wasn't supposed to be anyways, but I've somehow found myself sounding and touching her in a way that to me seems sexual.

"Nothing, it's stupid." She whispers, and I shake my head. I grasp onto her wrist, and bring it up to my lips, gently kissing the skin along her wrist. The goosebumps arising on her skin tickle my lips, but I don't mention it to her, instead I focus on showing her that I'm here and that I'm listening.

"I'm not going to leave until you tell me what's wrong, and don't think for a second that I'm going to leave when you do." I murmur against her skin, gazing into her dim brown eyes. She sighs, leaning into my gentle touch.

"I swear it's nothing. I'm just not feeling well." I hear her lie even before her face gives her away. Hayden's never been the best at lying. Her face always goes too pale for her brown skin, and her eyes glaze over.

I kiss her knuckles softly and her eyes search my face for something. "The truth, Hayden. Tell me what's really wrong." I whisper, and she shakes her head in response.

I get off my knees and instead sit beside her on the bed. She lies her head on my shoulder and I hum the melody of Hollywood Murder, the song I wrote for her when she was hospitalized those many months ago. I hope that she doesn't catch on why I chose that song, but I don't worry, as it's very easy for Hayden to get lost in her own thoughts and tune out the world around her. Even though I can feel her sinking deeper into my shoulder as she's lulled to sleep by my exhausting harmony, I continue humming the melody of same last verses repeatedly until I find comfort in them.

Arms of lead, scars from the past drawn tight
Eyes filled with blood, psychotic acts
Now the city surrounds me in different tones of gray
Just nature's play, all her children have a role
The era of the vane lolled the beauty of creation
You painted flowers on my face
You looked quite upset when I whispered sweet nothings in your ear
Sing it til your lungs burst, or they'll set you alight
Blood of your soul etching through your veins
I refuse to believe that God created you to be tortured
The Five Pillars art her flesh
Your body was given a life, nurtured and sacrificed

Once I hear Hayden's gentle, hushed snores in my ear, I lay her down on my bed, and cover her with my blanket. I kiss her forehead before I leave the room and shut the door behind me. There's something wrong with Hayden, but I'm not going to go out of my way to figure it out if she doesn't want me to know.