Clothes were littered across the floor and crumpled blankets surrounded her small body on the couch. She hated the morning after, the point when she would wake up alone and she had already made a cup of coffee and left. She rose from the couch, the blankets falling, exposing soft, copper skin. She wandered across the familiar room, feeling the wool carpet scratching the bottoms of her feet as she examined the bookshelf. Although only two shelves were filled, every book had its place where it belonged. She was jealous of it. She spent more time caring for it than for her. She wanted to push it over, if only to stop the lions from looking down on her. She held her breath and clutched her fists.
One, two, three
She trudged to the bathroom and turned on the tap, feeling ice turn to steam. Looking into the clouded mirror, she smiled at her silhouette, her curves of adolescence were forming slowly, but surely. She knew that even though she didn't find it preferable, she herself favoured the feeling of maturity. Her mind flashed images of condescendence and lofty atmospheres. Animosity seeped into her chest until she remembered the carnality of the night before.
"You are loved" She mimicked, "You are beautiful, you are strong, you are here…" she smiled, tying her hair up and taking only a moment to pause and look at her roots creeping in against her emerald green hair. She walked back into the main room, picking up her estranged clothes and tossed them onto the couch. One by one, she put the articles on, starting with tattered, cotton panties and finishing off with her thick leather belt.
She checked her phone for the time. 10:22. She was late for school. She sauntered into the kitchen and opened one of the rotting cupboards, reaching in and grabbing a mug. She started the coffee machine, listening to its regular screaming as the liquid gushed from it. When it finished, she drained the pot into her mug and took a sip. She savoured the bitter, burnt taste of it as she felt the hot stinging sensation over her tongue and down her throat.
She put the cup down quickly and flashed her eyes toward her dresser. She motored over and opened the bottom drawer, revealing several cartons of cigarettes and removed one, opened it, and felt the rolled paper between her fingers. Her lips parted slightly as she returned to the couch. She sat with her arms crossed, leaning on her knees. While still holding the cigarette between her middle and index finger, she pressed it to her lips softly. She changed poses and slouched back into the soft cushioning, crossing her legs at the knee. Shooting up, she suddenly raced back to the kitchen and giddily searched through the drawers. Content with what she had found, she placed the cigarette back between her lips and raised the gold plated lighter, flicking it and allowing the flame to ignite the tip. She carefully placed it back in the drawer as she breathed in. She felt the smoke fill her lungs as she inhaled and watched the swirling clouds as they escaped her mouth and nose. She giggled to herself and grabbed her bag from the table, opened the door, and left leaving an echo in the smokey room.