|The Different Bodies of Love
By Heaven_Leigh on 03/26/2012
The breeze gently ruffles her fiery red hair as she walks down the path. She glances behind her shoulder and notices me walking a good thirty yards behind her. She wiggles her hand in a simple, friendly wave. She stops and picked a blue wildflower before she walks towards me. I smile and close the gap with a quick, loping jog. When our outstretched hands met, I brought her into my arms and swept her off the ground.
She whispers my name into my ear as we finish our embrace. The small, blue flower she had picked just a short moment ago was now crushed between our beating hearts.
Touching my face, she asked, Should we go back to the hotel?
I agreed and we walk away, hand-in-hand.
As we walk, she leans herself into me. A sweet smile touches her lips when she looks up at me. Many people stop and stare at us as we walk, but I do not heed their smirks. I''ve grown used to their insults she however, has not. The pretty smile that embraced her lips is now long gone and a sad frown is set on her lips. I murmur her name to soothe her as we continue down the street.
Once we are at the hotel, I let her check in and walk into an elevator and wait for her. Seeing the room number stamped in a bloody red paint on the cherry door, I frown. 666. Why would anyone want to stay in a room with that number? She also frowns when she sees the number. I shrug and walk in.
Turning, I see her hesitating in the hallway. I grin and look around. You know, it''s only a number, it can''t hurt you. I walk around the room opening the shades on the only window, letting my voice drop down really low; There''s no ghosties in here.
She giggles and rolls her eyes, I don''t know, they could be hiding in the closet.
Our laughter blends into unitary, complex melody. She stopped laughing and looked out the window. The afternoon sun made her hair glow as if it was engulfed in flames.
A gentle sigh escapes her as she stares. I wish we could fit in again, I wish there''s something that would change the way people look at us. Why can''t they be more... She pauses to look at me, more open minded. I love you to death. I will always love you until I die. You know that. Another pause, another sigh. But sometimes, I feel I can''t take the looks we get. I can''t understand why they think that we aren''t human like they are.
Quietly, I walk to her and pull her into my arms. Sobs softy shake her body as she rests against me. I know. I know. People can be sick sometimes. There''s nothing that we can do about it. Bitter, hopeless anger has crept into my voice. I sigh and look over her ginger hair outside and watch the streets below.
I think we should watch a movie. Her muffled voice hardly reaches my ears. I can''t help but laugh at her sudden change in mood. I mean a horror movie! A good one! Like... she pauses and peeps up at me, trying to see my face.
Like Freddy? I ask her blankly.
She pushes me backwards with a squeal and takes for the door, I''m going to pick a movie, but you have to stay here! It''s going to be a surprise. She smiles at me. Besides you have horrible taste in movies.
I''m still laughing when the door slams shut.
Twenty minutes later, I hear a knock on the door. Frowning and wondering where she could be, I open the door expecting to find her standing there with a smile on her lips. Instead, I''ve met a tall man dressed in a police uniform.
He looks me over before he clears his throat to speak, Were you staying with Marcella Tee?
I shyly nod as I try to figure out what trouble she''s gotten herself into.
The man shifted his weight before continuing. Ms. Tee was found dead across the street. A witness claims to have seen her jump from the sixteenth ledge.
His voice echoes hollowly in my ears. Dead. My darling Marcella dead. I''ll never again hear her laugh or see her shy grin; never again will I comfort her. Dead? Ledge? You mean-- my voice gives out as I stare at him.
Nodding, the man continues, We are ruling out homicide. It''s clear that she jumped. I''m sorry, but this was a suicide.
I try to choke down the sobs that are working their way out as I slowly shut the door. I can''t figure out if the banging noise is my heart, my legs knocking together or the officer pounding on the door. He keeps talking but I can no longer hear what he was trying to explain to me. I think it was something along the lines of counseling to me, but I wasnt sure. However, I could hear him say how sorry he was for my loss.
Sorry. It''s funny how a simple word is supposed to mean so much. When someone dies and people know they become sorry. But, do they really mean it or is it just a way of being polite? The sickening thing is that you never know. I shiver as he continues speaking to me through the door. I close my eyes and my shiver turns to shakes. Clutching my head, I gasp for air and finally, I can stand.
Opening the door, the man is still there, Youre not sorry. It starts as a whisper directed to him, but as I start to repeat myself, it becomes more than a whisper. In fact, Im screaming hysterically at him that he wasnt sorry and that Marcella wasnt dead.
He clears his throat and speaks into his walkie talkie. It crackles to life and he looks at me and grumbles something inaudible. I pick up words that made my head hurt. Fag, crazy, deserved it. Finally he steps toward me and takes my arm. You need to come with me. Taking my arm, he pauses and looks at me. Sometimes... he stops, unsure of what to say to me. I just stare blankly at the wall behind his head. Sometimes, people like you- people like you arent accepted in this society. And when you people get sick of it, you think that if you kill yourselves that it would make it all better. When truth is, when you do that, theres just one less of you outcasts.
Shock radiates through me at his words. To keep myself from smacking him, I just stare at the elevator doors until they open and I walk in. Im still staring at the wall when I finally speak again. She had done nothing wrong. There was no need for her to die. If you think that she did it just because she felt bad because of who she loved then youre even dumber than I thought you were.
He doesnt reply and the short burst of strength I had is now dwindling. The doors open and I walk into the lobby, hoping if I stay ahead he won''t see my legs shake. The front desk was empty. Gone was the short brunette that was there earlier today. I turn back to the police officer confused before it hits me. That girl was the witness. She saw Marcella die.
Turning, I walk over to the door and look out the window at the neighboring street. Caution tape was set up in a square and I knew thats where she had hit the ground. The last bit of strength I had was now gone, and as I fell I could hear Marcellas soft laughter just before it all goes black.
When I open my eyes, I groan at the bright lights that spear me. I try to look around but every little movement hurts. After awhile, a door opens and a man in scrubs walks in. I stare waiting for him to speak. He glances at a chart at the foot of the bed where I was sprawled out.
Miss Nixen, Im Ryan. Nice to meet you. He pauses and checks the chart again. Im sorry for your loss today. Im going to say just take a household painkiller to deal with the pain.
I open my mouth but then I shut it again as I try to figure why he called me by Skilars last name. My last name isnt Nixen. Im not Skilar, my names Marcella. Marcella Tee. I look in right in the eye, What loss are you talking about? Why in the hell does my head hurt so much?
Ryan just stares at me confused. He makes a note on his chart before he says, You hit your head today. The loss Im talking about, Skilar, is that your partner, Miss Tee killed herself today. Its on the news.
I rise off the bed ignoring the pain and stare at him. Youre wrong. When do I get to leave? Im sure Skilar is looking for me. We were supposed to have lunch today. I walk towards the door but Ryan grabs my arm gently pushing me back to the bed.
Now, Skilar, dont be a pain. This isnt funny. His voice darkened. If anyone hears you talking that way, youll be locked up in a loony bin.
I snarl at him and make a run for the door but a blond is standing there, blocking the hallway. I shove her aside and run into the hallway. I hear them shout Skilars name and I run. Im looking for an escape the way out but the white walls have blended with the grey floors. Blocks of sunshine break up the pattern of the tiles but they are only there to confuse me. They are a false hope, a false hope that leads to a room to be imprisoned. Finally I see the doors and sprint to them.
Finally free of that horror behind me, I run into the street trying to find Skilar. When I pass our favorite diner, I guess she must be at Kennas store. So I walk blindly through the throng of people listening for the music. A smile breaks across my face when I hear heavy metal music pouring into the street. Kennas store itself doesnt have a sign but those who know of it know to listen for the music that leads you to an alley. When in the alley, I walk up the middle door with a painted X on it.
As soon as the door opens, I can hear Kenna chirp that she would be there in a second. I can hear a mans voice signing just before an explosion of drum patterns that hurt my head engulfs it. I spy a chair and pull it up to the counter where I wait for her. After five minutes I hear high heels clicking on the tiles and secretly hope that its Kenna walking towards me and not the man.
Oh hi! Kenna chirps when she enters the backspace of the counter pulling out a notebook, You must be hear to pick up your order. She grins at me.
I frown, You mean Skilars.
By Heaven_Leigh On 3/26/2012 11:55:23 AM