Naïve

monsters

   I felt the fear run to my arms, my heart, my head, and I turned, tearing my eyes away from them, from this - and I ran.

   I ran blindly, without seeing, without thinking. The resolution to die was so completely clear in my mind that I didn’t need to think twice. 

   Everything was so simple. It was so laughable. I felt the hysterical giggles rising from the pits of my stomach, climbing its way up my trachea, sweep into my lungs, my blood, my fucking brains - before it spurted out of me like a hurricane tears everyone and everything in its path with it. 

   Why couldn’t I be that hurricane - why must I always be the victim, always the fucking victim, who gets caught up in other people’s storm? 

   I didn’t see it - the tall ledge, the open arched doors, the clear blue sky - or maybe I did, but it was easier not seeing it.

   It’s always easier to pretend I didn’t see anything.

   Out of sight, out of mind.

   I felt the ledge, then I was airborne. 

   Like the disgraced angel I was,

   I plunged down to hell without my wings.

   Or maybe I never was an angel to begin with - maybe I was just going home.

***

   “Ethan. Ethan.” 

   I snapped my head up to find a girl frowning down at me, the bright blue sky her backdrop. 

   “Finally.” she muttered, relieved, and planted herself down into the empty space next to me on the park bench. She looked familiar - her dark hair was done in a messy bun, and she wore see through stockings and a big sweater that came to her thighs. Her Doc Martin laces were undone, and I felt the urge to tell her. 

   “Thinking poetic thoughts again?” She grinned when my eyes flickered back to her. Her eyes were a startlingly piercing blue - and than it hit me. Quinn. 

   “You remembered!” she exclaimed, and I found myself stunned into silence - how does she seem to know what I am thinking? “Oh, you might not realise it, but you have a terrible poker face. You’re like an open book.” Again, she rendered me surprised.

   She swung her legs, two hands firmly planted on the edges of the bench, and watched a couple of children ran around, chasing each other. I didn’t know what she wanted, but since she didn’t speak, I didn’t either, and we both were silent. My thoughts wondered elsewhere, and for a moment, I forgot everything again, till her alto voice spoke softly.

   “People are insufferable.” 

   Surprised, I turned to her, and she looked at me, her eyes distant. “People are insufferable - there are no such things as monsters, only humans. We made the word ‘monster’ up to hide the ugly, ruthless beasts inside of us and blame it on things - people - we didn’t like, didn’t fit in to our idealised utopia that we call society.” 

   She laughed at her own words. “That’s what we claim to be - an idolised utopia that is society, what is really there to cover up the monstrous, ugly parts of ourselves that we hide in the darkest corners of hearts. If you looked up the word monster in the dictionary, you’ll find what we call society. 

   “Yet, we blame society for everything that is wrong is our lives, we say that it is society’s fault that everything is split into ugly and perfect, but we forget that we make up society. We are our own monsters in this world.” 

   Her eyes found mine, and they were so clear, so, so clear. “Are we a large, ugly, and frightening imaginary creature? Am I?” When I shook my head, she laughed. “Yeah, I’m not. Neither are you - see, we’re not all bad.”

   My lips opened, but they closed again. She smirked.

   “Well? Was that deep and poetic enough to be your friend?” 

   A feeling of dread rushed through me, and I thought that she had been joking the whole time - but then she smiled and leaned forward and whispered in my ear. 

   “Are you scared of me?” 

   I pulled back, and I spoke to her for the first time. “Shouldn’t you be scared of me?”

   She looked at me, a look of incredulous on her face. “Why? Because you’re suicidal?” 

   I flinched at her bluntness, but she continued. “What, because the rumours about you are true? If we get too close to you you’ll take us down the window with you next time? Bullshit. I don’t believe that. 

   “I think suicidal people are just angels who want to go home.” 

>>> Sorry everyone, this was a very boring chapter :-( but I wanted to establish the starting relationshhip between Quinn and Ethan before they start doing crazy shit - which is coming up in the next chapter. Thanks so much for reading, please vote if you like :) x