Babylon Candle

Chapter II

Patch had showered, brushed her teeth, washed her face, combed her hair and put on some clean clothes; but anyone who knew her, or who bothered to really look at her for more than just a moment, could see she was a mess. Her eyes were red at the edges, and puffed up, from the lack of sleep and continuous crying. Although her hair had been recently, and quickly combed, if one were to pass one's hand through it, the multitude of small dreads had begun to form. Her skin was flakey due to the weeks without showering; and her skin, now being exposed quickly to the harsh smelling soaps. Though no one would ever actually know it, but she wasn't wearing any underwear underneath her jeans. She hadn't done the wash in so long, she had run out.

Before leaving, she stood at the door, in trance. Her heart ached. This room needed to change. She couldn't keep it this way. All it did was hurt her; all it ever did was remind her.

She and Ben had been laying down; the bed once neatly done, had been crumpled from their nude activity that they had been much to quick to begin to bother even getting under the sheets. There, they lay. Ben spooning Patch; his breath low and soft behind her ear. His body radiated warmth, and she was cold. Knowingly, he had pulled the outer covers in, to cover both their naked bodies. "There." It came out as a husky whisper. His warm face was on my cheek, as his breath tickled my neck.

"You know me so well," Patch smiled, nestling herself closer to his body; their feet intertwined. His arms slid around her waist, pulling her in closer; which almost seemed impossible, but he did. Patch felt as if their bodies were fusing into one. She had never felt so close to another person before; never felt able to open herself up; to just be herself.

Patch's life had been a series of bad luck before meeting Ben. She had always felt like the black sheep in her family; and with her passed experiences- she didn't even want to think about those in that moment, so pushed the thoughts quickly away. She always thought of Ben coming into her life as a blessing; a blessing she learned later, she didn't deserve.

"That's because I love you." He kissed her hair and they stayed like that, for what must have been hours, breathing in unison and falling into a deep sleep. This had been the moment for Patch. When anyone asked her, what is your happy place? This was the place. Even though it was a moment, long in the past, and the details had slowly begun to fade; what she felt in that moment, that's when she had felt happiest.

Looking now into the empty bedroom, Patch wondered if she could ever feel such happiness ever again. It seemed unlikely, and her body confirmed it with the newly forming tears at the corners of her face; streaming down like sad and lonely rivers. Soon, the longing memory was pushed away; and another came to mind.

Patch was sitting on her bed, looking at Ben as he stood by the foot angrily. "Why can't you take a step back from her?" I cried, "Not forever, we just need to work on this! Ben, you're my boyfriend, my partner! I shouldn't have to fight with you to get you to spend some time with me."

He passed his fingers through his fair in anger, as if he wanted to break something, but instead went to his hair. She never told him, but she had never been more afraid of him than in that moment. "Are you asking me to chose?" His voice boomed; his tone in disbelief that it had come to this, that he had had to ask her this question in the first place.

She was choking on her voice; tears blurring his face. She wanted to scream YES; that this girl wasn't his girlfriend and he'd only known her a couple of months. How could this person, who appeared from nowhere, like a bad omen, how could this be such a surprise, or such an unreasonable request? "It's not forever! Please, it's just for now. I need space from them right now, I need you to come with me." She had become quite the shadow of herself in the last months of their relationship. Even now, in her memories, Patch didn't recognize herself. That girl in that room, was in pain, she had been bleeding for months by that moment. The abuse, the mental abuse she had suffered those months, with the people she and Ben called friends; and he didn't want to take a step back. She just needed some time to heal, she needed him with her; a little sacrifice so that they could move forwards stronger than before.

I am not worth the sacrifice. That's all she heard. That's all she heard when he said "It doesn't even matter. I don't want this anymore." Her mind echoed the words he wanted to say; they bounced around her mind and cut deep into her chest: I don't want you anymore.

He darted across the room and left he apartment. There was a loud bang- a bang that echoed in her memory. She had flinched before breaking down into tears as he left. She had let out a cry, the pain she felt, like a she had been stabbed through the heart with a thousand small knives. She didn't know if that's what they felt like – but with everything that had happened to her in her life; especially in the last two years, this is the only thing Patch could even imagine might be even the slightest bit comparable. Even then – she would have taken the knives, given the choice.

Now months later from the event, Patch flinched again at the memory the door banging as she slid down onto the floor, her back against the foundation of the door way. Crying in loud yelps of pain, ruining the little effort she had put into her makeup that morning. She was defeated to say the least. As her heart seemed to break all over again, she debated not going to work. What would it matter anyways? She could just swallow some pills in the bathroom and not feel; never have to feel again. No. It scared her that she was that way, that her thoughts could wander there if she wasn't constantly consciously monitoring herself. She had to stop feeling like this. Maybe work will be a good distraction. It had been the first time Patch actually felt hopeful about anything. Maybe work will be a good distraction.

Patch grabbed onto the door-frame and pulled herself up slowly. Walked over to the bathroom mirror; and once again applied her makeup. She tried to hide the fact that she was broken, beyond repair, it seemed; but regardless, she didn't need others to know it. She had to be fine. She needed to put on a smile. She needed to at least pretend like she was okay; like she wasn't alone.

She lifted the eye-brush to her lashes and combed them upwards, giving the illusion that they were much longer and abundant than they were. She then wiped the blackness that had formed under her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. She covered it with the cheap oily foundation that she had picked up at the pharmacy. It didn't quite match her skin tone, but she blended it easily enough to make it look natural.

Patch took a step back, taking in her reflection from the large, dusty mirror that hung above the sink. No one will ever know that you are broken. It was a lie she needed to tell herself to go outside; to go to work. Evidently, the moment anyone set their eyes on her for more than a moment; they knew.

Sigh.