The City | GirlxGirl

nineteen ➳

Blair's apartment building was old. Skylar had thought that on the day she helped Blair move in, which would've been about three years ago, and now, it looked even older. The elevator chimed with each destination it reached, but it sounded as though the bell needed to be replaced. It sounded more like a duck-and a duck with some sort of laryngitis.

She was exhausted. Each road she had crossed to get to Blair's felt like she had climbed an entire mountain. Her body ached, groaning in protest. But she wanted to see Blair.

Ironically, she didn't want to see Jude-she just wanted to talk about Jude. Wanting to sit down and talk about things with Blair was a rare event. Skylar knew she'd likely shock her best friend, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't get Jude out of her head. And she thought that, maybe, by talking to Blair about it-because she was more experienced in these kinds of things-she may be able to get the girl off of her mind.

And then her mind would be back on Blair, the way she liked it: familiar, and comfortable.

Despite waking up with her mouth dry, yearning for a cigarette to fill the void, she made sure to avoid smoke at all costs. If Blair smelled even a single trace of a cigarette, she'd close the door on Skylar when she needed her the most.

The carpets lining the hallway of the fifth floor always reminded Skylar of a hotel, and she couldn't help imagining she and Blair taking a holiday somewhere and spending days-specifically rainy ones like today, in Toronto-curled up inside their hotel room.

Shaking her head as if to physically rid her mind of the thought, Skylar knocked softly on door 54, knowing it was early, but that Blair would most likely be awake. The sun was shining, and therefore, so was Blair.

But no response came.

Knock, knock, knock. Skylar tried again and again. Confused, then, she retrieved the key from her keychain, this one gold whereas hers was silver. She rarely used it; she didn't like barging into Blair's home without knocking first. Skylar hesitated for a moment before inserting the key into the lock, thinking that perhaps Blair just wasn't home, but thought better of it: she wouldn't have left for work yet. Besides, shouldn't Jude be home?

Yes, she was.

With music blasting from Blair's bluetooth speaker, of course Jude wouldn't have heard Skylar's insistent knocking at the front door.

But not only was she blaring music so loud it echoed against each wall, and Skylar nearly felt the reverberation of the bass inside of her chest-and she couldn't believe how soundproof the front door was-Jude was standing in the middle of Blair's living room, getting changed, it seemed like. But Skylar couldn't form a coherent thought, as she stood in the doorway, staring at Jude, who stared at the adjacent wall, without her shirt on.

Bruises. Everywhere.

Some had faded, but some were so dark, they looked as though they'd formed yesterday. Skylar searched her memory for any indication of pain from Jude: last night at the bar, or the night she found her outside of it. She couldn't think of anything that would point her in the direction of clear abuse.

Jude was not the type of person who kickboxed in her spare time. Nor would she ever roughhouse with someone for fun, or have a brawl rather than a spoken argument. Jude was calm, soft-spoken, rational. Skylar knew that.

So who had done this to her, Skylar wondered, and how had they gotten away with it? Were they still in Jude's life? Clearly, they must have been cut out of her life incredibly fast, for the bruises must have been made not long ago.

And then Skylar remembered Jude's boyfriend: the whole reason that the two girls knew each other in the first place.

She had been frozen upon first seeing the bruises, but now, she couldn't control her body. Feeling herself walk the length of the short hallway, deeper into the living room, where Jude was still nodding her head slightly to the music, and reaching towards the couch for her t-shirt, Skylar firmly pressed the "off" button on the speaker.