Bruises
(The Beautiful Girl Means Nothing to Me)
Wanted to believe in all the words I was speaking
As we moved together in the dark
And all the friends I was telling And all the playful misspellings
And every bite I made left a mark
Tiny vessels oozed into your neck
And formed the bruises That you said you didn't want to fade
But they did and so did I that day
-Death Cab for Cutie-
He wrote to her because he had nothing else to do, and in the end it was worth it. She wrote to him about her nonsense and he responded and she believed him because he told her too. It was that easy, all teenage girls are: They love to love.
But he was surprised when water rolled from the diary and her tears stained his past. He wished, sometimes, that he could give her something, some compensation for her pain; after all, it was her life he was eating away at. One day she exerted herself, her tears touching his long fingers so far away down the hall of fifty years. And he gave her him for an hour or so, so she wouldn't be so lonely, so she would no when the time came for her to join the relatives she missed seeing what it was like.
He entered her room while the girls were away and blew out the candles. Her face remained cold; it was Valentine's Day and Hero didn't care for his valentine song card. "I thought you would be more excited to see me," he asked playfully. "In this world, I can't mock your misplacing of i's and e's"
She smiled.
He knew it was wrong. She was only eleven, so vulnerable inside and out. His fingers were cold, but the blood that ran from her pale body warmed his legs as he moved in her. As he moved in deeper, her hands became claws ripping at his flesh, fighting for life…for love. She left her mark and he left his, on the side of her neck, behind her ear, she always scratched at. Every time she did this now, she would think of him.
It turned red at first, but as the red faded the blood came to the surface and stopped at her skin and sat and waited to fade, it was all it could do. She would fade, they all would, they had too, or he would have to as well. She touched the spot, and her lips stretched into a smile that was genuine, not like the ones on magazines where the celebrity is so awkward and uncomfortable.
"Did you know that I love you," she asked. So shy and uncertain, but he knew it was a lie, those brown eyes were something they shouldn't be, something unsuited towards their simple ways.
"Of course. I know a lot of things," he said, wishing he didn't. The truth hurts not only those you are beaten down by it, but by those who hold it. His plans had to wait for his night of indulgence had cost him, but he waited, and savored his last few entries with the girl that loved him so much, but she meant nothing to him…but she was beautiful…yes.
He finally felt what he waited for, the time spent riding in pockets was over and it had been worth it. It always was, wasn't it? It just came to him, the potential regrets, what ifs, but they didn't matter; she didn't mean anything to him, she was just beautiful and there are a lot of beautiful girls with brown eyes if you know where to find them.
When he came out to see her, she cringed and the knot her ankles were crossed in became tighter.
She was only a pretty girl, her wrist so thin and he walked her towards the bathroom, to the end of her story. Only a pretty girl.
She hated the chamber. She could never understand the power it held, and her tears added the damp feeling of centuries on the walls.
As he leaned in for their last kiss, her last kiss, he saw the bruise she wished would never fade a yellowish sort of color as it faded, as she would do. He watched her, and waited. The boy would be coming, and if he didn't then it didn't matter. He missed her brown eyes, and scratching of her neck, but he would think of her; after all she was a beautiful girl, and they don't fade away the way boys sometimes do.
The End.