Smile

9

August 14th 2:03 a.m.
**Trigger Warning**
Mentions of blood and abuse.

She never came back.

I don't know if she got carried away or if whatever was so urgent became too much to handle, or if she simply forgot but I'm not upset. Not at her. I couldn't be. Besides, I'll see her later and she'll smile at me and explain, with those beautiful brown eyes, something really important came up. Because that's what she does—important things.

Her beautiful brown eyes.

The admiration I have for her is so immense that it takes up half my brain. Everything I do is filled with her. All of my bad habits—my consistent sexual escapades—have vanished because of her. The only thing that boarders a bad habit that has accrued because of her, is my excessive painting of her.

I stared at the blank canvas in front of me. The chalky white color smoothed out by the dim moonlight that soaked through the curtains of the large window. I racked every inch of my brain for something other than her face to paint. I have at least two paintings for every angle of her face that I have seen and for some reason, I don't think it's enough.

My heart felt still every time I stared at one of them, as if my heart was so confused by what they made me feel it thought I was dying.

"Moonie."

My memory controlled my heart which controlled my hand that controlled my brush to paint the shadowy figure that inspired her name. Every time I paint her it's as if my mind is numb. Everything but the image of her is gone and there is nothing I do about it.

The worse part of my obsessive painting of her, other than it being the only thing I can paint, is that they are my best paintings. Each one better than the last. From the colors, to the emotion, to the technique. They're perfect in every aspect of art. They even top my most famous painting; the painting of my sister. The one that bought this house and saved my family's business—the one that saved my parents.

The intense euphoria after I paint them makes me almost sick. Seeing them brings so many weighed down emotions that it makes me curl up on the inside. They're too beautiful and I don't know if it's just because I painted them.

August 14th 3 p.m.

I opened my eyes slowly as the wet feeling against my cheek continued. My head was pounding and every one of my senses felt like it was rebooting. When my vision focused on my ceiling I could see the face of an animal from the corner of my eye. Despite my concern for what was in my house and licking my face, I couldn't react quick enough to do anything.

I sat up slowly, the glass shifting underneath me as I did so. I groaned as I leaned against my wall and what is revealed to be a cat, pushing its paw against my leg. "What are you doing here?" I hummed, scratching under its chin.

I don't know what time it is but the sun is up, which means I should've been at work by now. If I'm awake then I'm probably ok so I'm still going to go until closing. One more check and I'm done. No more of this.

I went to push back my hair but it was wet. At first I assumed it was just beer because that's all I could really smell but it was thicker. And red. That's when I realized that half of my face felt weird and my hand was covered in it. I stood up slowly, the car backing up into the cracked open door as I walked toward the bathroom.

I leaned over the sink and examined my face. There was blood still running down my face on top of the already dried substance. I clicked my tongue and looked around for something to wipe it off. I live here but not really so I don't actually know what we have. I just pay the bills and make sure we don't get evicted.

I pick up a supposedly clean wash cloth and run it under the hot water before scrubbing the blood from my face. As I did so, I got intensely dizzy but I had to keep going. I was already late.

Meow. Meow.

I paused and looked down at the cat below me. He stared up at me with big green eyes to combat his deep black fur and white spots. "Are you trying to tell me something?" He continued to stare at me, his only movements being his paw pressing on the toe of my shoe.

"I don't know where you came from little cat, but you should probably go back. I can't take care of anybody else."

When I finished I leaned against the wall and squinted my eyes shut, forcing the white noise out of my head and back into the air.

I stepped onto the gravel, the black cat following after me, and I pulled the door shut. He pranced alongside me as if he had known me for years and we were the best of friends. I don't know if that's just how animals act or if he's a strange cat but he's cute.

I was halfway down the path of the trailer park when my phone rang. I paused when I saw his name pop up, contemplating whether I should just continue my string of disappointments or explain myself now. He was going to find me eventually. Offer me the sweetest smile, have no pity or any other emotion resembling it, just kindness, and force me to explain myself all with one look.

I picked up. "Hello?"

"Where are you? Are you ok?" He questioned. His voice was higher than usual and flooded with pure worry. The kind that makes your stomach turn and your mouth dry.

"I'm fine. I'm on my way to work. Were you waiting for me?"

"Of course. What happened? Did you start later?"

"No. I got busy, just meet me at the park and I'll explain, ok?"

He was silent for a moment. Nothing but the wind and the patrons of The Avenue could be heard from the other side. "Ok. Be careful."

I hung up and stuffed my phone back into my back pocket. I wanted to run, let off some steam, hopefully make my head hurt so bad that I forget this guilt that's tearing me apart. I lied to him. I abandoned him. He's done nothing but be kind to me and I couldn't even protect myself enough to make it back to him. What kind of friend am I?

I even forgot the flowers he bought for me. The ones he ran to give me. I'm going to give him the most heartfelt apology; I'm going to be in debt to him.

I stopped in my tracks. "Ok." I stared down at the small cat, his hopeful green eyes staring back. "I can't abandon you too." I bent down and held the cat on its stomach.

I don't know how long it takes Kai to get there but I'm going to turn this hour long walk into twenty minutes. Forcing me to run track is the one of the only good things that has come from my mother.