A Bridge of Glass

“If you weren’t alright you should have told me! I couldn’t find you, I didn’t know where to look, I…” He took a deep breath as he felt his palms starting to sweat from her stare. “I missed you. I wanted to see you, I…” He stopped abruptly, perhaps too abruptly. He blinked, trying to find himself again. “I didn’t know how to live without you.”

“Liar”, she whispered.

“What?” He said, hesitantly, feeling nervous.

“Liar”, she said amused, with a hint of a laughter at the back of her throat. “Lies. They’re all lies.”

“Naomi, I-“

“If you wanted to see me you should have come, you should have come to me, you should have seen me. I waited for you, I waited, but you never came”, she teased, her voice unnaturally flat. “Instead, I had to call you here. Ordering pizza is easier. I mean, what does a girl have to do to get some attention around here?”

Wesley finally let his eyes leave the script as he looked up. He was ready to speak his mind, but as he saw the amusement in Irene’s eyes, he kept silent, only watching as she rose from her seat in the sofa opposite him. As she turned her back, her long hair swaying around her shoulders, Wesley found himself staring in amazement. He was not surprised at his co-actress’s actions; Irene’s defiant, and rather arrogant, happenings had become a habit. At this point Wesley could, with quite certainty, state that Irene was a girl of her reputation.

Wesley could still remember his agent’s words about the young girl clearly, as if the middle-aged man’s words were still ringing at the back of his head – in a way, he sometimes thought they were. Wesley had heard of the infamous Irene Archer for the first time about two years ago, shortly after she’d landed her first official role. Despite her young age and inexperience in the field, her blunt and arrogant attitude had angered every crew member and rumors about her being dropped had circled for a while, creating a tense atmosphere wherever she was mentioned. Contrary to everyone’s beliefs, she’d miraculously completed the movie and walked the red carpet soon after to receive an award, once again giving birth to a blaze of rumors. She was a fascinating girl, Wesley had learned that much – among other things.

“She’s a troublesome kid; does what she wants, speaks her mind, never listens – a true troublemaker, even at heart”, Jack Foster, Wesley’s agent, had stated with his thick London accent. “The fact that she can even complete a movie is a miracle in itself.  Nobody really wants to work with her. If she wasn’t so bloody talented nobody would.”

Irene poured them both a glass of fresh water and returned to the sofa with that glamorous walk she possessed, which seemed to enchant every man she’d ever met.  Her deep brown eyes held his as she offered him one of the glasses, a light smile erupting across her lips as he reached for it. He expected her mischievous nature would take the chance and gently let the tips of her fingers brush against his, as they so often did. But to his surprise her fingers moved fast and avoided any physical contact, landing on her lap before Wesley could even grasp a proper hold of the glass.

Suddenly rather confused, Wesley leaned back against the sofa to take a small gulp of the fresh water as he eyed Irene curiously. It was unusual behavior, coming from Irene of all people, especially when it had to do with Wesley. Right after their first meeting she had made it her habit to flirt at Wesley whenever the chance presented itself. It nearly pained him to realize he’d long gotten used to it.

As Irene turned slightly to the side in order to cross her legs without hitting the table, immediately exposing naked skin, Wesley’s confusion vanished. He almost wanted to laugh at himself when she turned her head his way and gave him a cunning smile.

Oh, Irene, Wesley thought, how stunningly predictable.

Deciding to play along, Wesley leaned forward in his seat and took a long good look at her exposure, trailing her leg down to her bare toes and back with his attentive eyes. When he reached the line of her dress once again, he leveled his eyes to hers and soon detected her amusement.

Very pleased, Irene uncrossed her legs and gently grabbed the frail fabric of her dress. She pulled it upwards slowly, holding Wesley’s eyes as more of her thin legs were slowly becoming visible. “Would you like a more explicit view, Mr. Hirst?”

Wesley laughed. “Maybe another time. For now, shall we continue?” Wesley picked up the script and flipped among the pages.

“My sincere apologies, sir. I forgot you play a different game.” Irene smirked cunningly.

Wesley cleared his throat as he looked back down onto one of the pages. “How about scene 28?”

  “We already recorded that”, Irene sighed, bored. “How about something a little more exiting?”

Wesley closed the script and met her eyes. “What are you suggesting, Ms Archer?”

Irene grinned and jumped down from the couch. She leaned over the table separating them and seductively bit her lower lip. “How about the kiss scene?”

Unable to withhold the laughter that slipped his lips, Wesley leaned back in the couch. “Have you forgotten the entire script or just the majority of it?” He asked, genuinely curious, with the laughter still in his throat.

Irene pulled back, her face growing pale with anger. She sat down on the floor and leaned against the couch as she looked away defiantly. “All of it. I couldn’t help it, considering it’s so boring.”

Wesley couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped him. He took off his glasses and polished them with the hem of his sweater as he started what had become his standard lecture. “I know you can’t get yourself to care about, well, anything, but this movie’s really important to me. I’d appreciate it if you could at least put in some effort.” Wesley tried to meet Irene’s eyes to insure she was listening.

 “And if I don’t?” Irene replied sharply. “Will you spank me?” She feigned innocence, as ever so very remarkably that it took Wesley by surprise. She made it feel so real, so genuine, that it nearly made Wesley’s fingers tremble. It was the only look Irene could give to remind him of how young she actually was.

Wesley broke the contact of their eyes and steered them towards his hands, focusing on anything but the growing conscience inside his chest. It hurt so painfully that he felt naked, stripped of all protection in front of a judging crowd. He’d never imagined knowledge could be so burdensome.

Irene moved forward, curious to Wesley’s sudden change of mood. Her deep brown eyes were hungry for the information running behind his light blue ones. The glimmer in them prepared Wesley for whatever was to come next, and so he wasn’t even slightly surprised as Irene picked herself up from the floor, stared him deep in the eyes and approached him with the hunger still clearly visible. She seated herself next to Wesley on the couch. He leaned backwards when she made herself comfortable leaning against the backrest, her arm steadying her head. Her other arm reached out to his face and cupped around his cheek, only to gently pull his head to the side so she could stare deep into his eyes.

Wesley had never disliked Irene’s eyes; he rather enjoyed any contact his eyes could have with hers, as they were stunningly beautiful. But as the slightest hint of earnest reached her almond brown orbs Wesley could feel a twitch inside of him, like an alarm signal going off far in the distance.

He really wanted to retract himself then, escape to safer ground. But the moment his hesitation showed in his eyes, Irene let him go and turned away, leaving him with a sigh of relief. Instead, she rose to her feet, choosing to ignore his rejection – as she always had, in her own way. “You up for some candy?” She asked as she steered her steps towards her hotel bathroom.

When she returned, a metallic tray in her hands, there was a delighted grin on her pale lips. She licked them hungrily as she jumped back towards Wesley. She slid down on the floor in front of the coffee table and carefully placed the tray on top of the glass. Irene’s ardent eyes shot up to meet Wesley’s tense ones as she picked up the small razor blade from the tray with her tiny fingers. For an instant, Wesley was convinced there would be blood.

Irene started parting the white powder on the tray with more concentration than she ever cared to give anything else. Her brown eyes were burning with impatience and content as she divided the glass into two equally big piles. When she put the razor down, Wesley could finally let out the breath he’d forced himself to hold. He made himself look at the white powder. It was so refined it was ridiculous. It wasn’t the first time he wondered how Irene managed to get hold of merchandise so clean.

“Feel like going first?” Irene asked before picking up what looked like a very small pipe. Wesley had never seen the act been done, but he had no doubt about what the pipe was for.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Wesley shook his head slowly. Irene shrugged indifferently and lowered her head towards the tray. Wesley closed his eyes as she put the small pipe to her nose, only hearing how she took a deep breath. As Irene grew quiet, Wesley became afraid of opening his eyes. Although having felt fear before, this was a different kind of fear, a haunting terror swallowing everything that could be eaten. Wesley knew if he let it, the terror would consume him.

Wesley forced his eyes open to see Irene leaning back against the sofa, her head pulled back and her eyes closed. Immediately, Wesley knew she was waiting. And eventually, her waiting seemed to be over.

Forever seemed to pass as Wesley sat in the couch, merely observing Irene as she experienced her euphoria. It was a burdensome thing to do; watch such a young girl stand up to this insidious world in the most self-noxious of ways. Although most people would state that Irene in her drugged rush was the most pleasant – if they’d ever had the bad fortune of meeting her – Wesley was most certain it was the worst experience of his life. It was more than relief that filled Wesley when Irene finally opened her eyes, clearly stepping out of the rush and readying herself for the high.

Now, this was an Irene Wesley had encountered many times, it almost felt more than natural to him compared to a nagging, sober Irene Archer. Despite that, he wouldn’t describe himself as pleased when Irene dragged herself up from the floor. He knew Irene had a habit of aggressive happenings whenever under her abusive state and it made him feel uneasy.

Wesley’s worry was soon put to ease as Irene turned on her stereo, grabbed his wrist, pulled him onto his feet and forced him to dance with her for the next two hours. In reality it was far more than Wesley could handle. He could feel the sweat stream down his back and his heart thrusting violently against his ribcage from exhaustion. As Irene twirled around him for the millionth time, Wesley roughly grabbed her arm, forcing her to a stop. “Enough!” He shouted, more aggressively than he’d intended. With an apologetic look, he met Irene’s eyes, but they were too aloof to eve notice.

With surprising authority, Wesley forced Irene over to the couch and sat her down. As he joined her, a relieved sigh pressed past his lips. When he felt Irene stir beside him, he almost jumped to grab her, until he realized she was only slipping down to the floor. She sat down in front of his legs and placed her head on his knee, letting her hands slip on top of his thigh as she closed her eyes.

“You’re a good man, Wesley Hirst”, she spoke suddenly in a tender voice.

The words astonished Wesley into stupidity. Instead of replying, he put his hand lightly on the top of her head and stroked her hair, like a father and his child. He knew Irene had never had a father and the action was foreign to her, yet she didn’t repel. She stayed peacefully on his lap, the air escaping her airways swiftly as the beating of her heart slowed.

As Wesley watched Irene’s relaxed figure, he wondered if his own heart would ever find such peace. His original plan to stay away from the girl had since long ago proved impossible and now he found himself enjoying every moment he could spend with her alone. He’d never though such a thing would be possible, but Irene had proved to be surprising beyond imagination. He’d quickly learned that her façade was not one of pride, but of fear. That ever present throbbing terror inside both their hearts had bound them together, like two petals of the same flower. Wesley had no doubt that his life had grown instantly better once he’d met Irene, although he’d been stubbornly defiant for a long time before realizing the truth before his eyes.

Wesley’s life had never been bad, at least not by his own standards. He’d never grieved his forced relationship with his mother or the lonesome time of his youth, he’d always managed to surpass the depressing ideas that approached him and avoided any contact with the blade. He’d considered himself as happy as he could be. By his own beliefs, sadness wasn’t a bad thing. But it wasn’t until Irene that he’d actually realized how close and present the sadness had really been. 

Madison Hirst, Wesley’s younger sister, had been his bed and breakfast his entire life. She’d provided whatever was necessary to give Wesley the possibility of a safe continuation, although those things might not have been obvious to Wesley himself. He’d loved her as much as he had thought possible, although he could see now that she had deserved so much more than he could ever give.

The one to actually pull Wesley from the shadows he’d put himself in was Irene. Although she wasn’t even strong enough to face her own demons, she’d stood by his side as Wesley had fought his, unwavering, and he hadn’t even noticed.

She’d been his knight in shining armor.

Wesley had been blinded to the impeccable affection one special girl had filled his entire being with. In the beginning he’d discarded it as cognition, as he’d figured such a thing was far more natural in their situation, especially concerning the circumstances. Only later, after his uncanny discover, had he understood the true meaning behind that unfamiliar emotion. It was remarkable when one thought about it; that small, shattered pieces of refined glass would come to unravel their relationship.

Wesley was amazed, as well as heartbroken, every time he thought back on that moment. It was like a mixture of honey and chili, both wrestling for dominance. In that moment, when tears had flowed like a steep waterfall, he’d experienced love for the first time. He’d understood the unavoidable fondness he held for the girl who dared stare into his eyes so coldly despite the visible terror emerging from within.

I’ll keep yours if you keep mine, she’d whispered delicately into the still air, unknowingly forging the outline of their joined future.

Feeling the hint of tears in his eyes, Wesley hurriedly blinked them away before Irene could notice. Still in his lap, the young girl seemed to have fallen asleep. With his fingers, Wesley gently grabbed one of her loose curls and admired the fiery red that covered her natural color. Although he’d never seen anything but the fire that covered her face, he was confident even the chocolate she was hiding would overwhelm almost anybody.

After lifting the girl into his arms, Wesley carried her to the bed where he gently put her down. It was already late and he was starting to feel rather fatigued himself. He covered Irene’s stirring figure with a blanket before turning off the lights and heading for the door. Before he turned his back, he gave a long, last look at Irene’s peaceful figure, a soft smile hinting at the corner of his lips, and then closed the door shut behind him.

What felt like ancient memories blurred past Wesley’s eyes as he paced the hallway. Beside one door, he saw Irene leaning against the wall, flashing her cunning grin, ready to charge with another degrading comment about his preferences. When he passed a corner, Irene was grabbing his arm and fiercely pulling him towards one of the assistants to ‘have some fun’. As Irene was gently tugging at his hand, trying to divert his concentration from a young man at the end of the hall, Wesley found a smile at the corner of his lips, passing by the remains of the shadows she’d left behind. Reaching his door and grabbing the handle, Wesley looked up to see Irene grab his neck and pulling him into a forced, yet warm, embrace, sending chills through his entire body.

 Wesley wasn’t used to dreaming, but that night, he dreamt of Irene, and the dream lingered in his thoughts even when he arrived at the set, later the same night. When he looked at the dark night sky, he was reminded of the bleak melancholy in Irene’s eyes. As he recited his script in front of the mirror, he remembered Irene’s moving lips as she tried to speak into the malicious void of his dream. When he talked to the director about the scene, he felt an ominous tinge in his fingertips, as if this was a sequel to the depths of last night. It made him nauseous to think about.

 They had to wait for Irene to make her grand appearance before they could finally start shooting. As always, she’d decided to be fashionably late by almost an hour, seeming almost hangover and definitely agitated as she arrived. It was a personal record; usually it would take more than two hours for her to find the set. Wesley nearly suggested to throw a party, but stopped himself as he glanced at Irene. Her dark aura was not to play with, he of all people could tell.

After acting out the last scene a couple of times, Wesley’s eyes were getting sore from all the crying and soon his previous troubles were nearly forgotten. He was hit with a wave of relief when the director announced that they would be shooting the last angle. As one of the makeup artist fixed a few spots under his sore eyes, she told him he was doing great and to stay strong. She bounced off with a happy smile and Wesley took his position, waiting for the set to calm down and the cue to be given.

  “If you wanted to see me you should have come, you should have come to me, you should have seen me. I waited for you, I waited, but you never came, you never came!” Her voice was trembling, partly by the cold, partly by the sadness. She was shaking her head defiantly. Suddenly her grip of his shirt loosened and her arms fell to her sides as she took a step back. “Instead you let yourself go to that whore! You let her get close to you and touch you–“

“Naomi, what are you talking about?” He interrupted, trying to grab hold of her arm. “What are you–“

“You let her into your home, you let her sleep on your bed and share your life. You gave her your time and your affection and then you slowly threw me away!” She screamed, panic getting hold of her voice. “You traded me for that bitch!”

“I didn’t trade you for anything. You’re confused. Just let me explain!” He tried to reason, sounding more desperate. He tried to grab her arm once again, but she pulled away fiercely, staring into his eyes.

“You gave her the one thing that should have been mine, James. Mine!” She hit her chest, as if the action would reduce the pain she felt. Her eyes were getting shiny by the tears threatening to swell over.

“What are you talking about?” He asked in a calm voice, although his chest was burning.

“You. I’m talking about you”, she breathed.

The truth was latent, no matter how she fought to hide it. Yet she spoke it now, and it hit him like a hammer in the chest. Wesley didn’t need to fake the silence that fell between them. Neither did he force himself to look into Irene’s eyes. When they met, he knew Irene herself was looking at him, and it made his eyes water with tears as her secret, the one she’d never told him, was slowly pushing through his walls. But for some reason, like always, his mind wouldn’t wrap around the truth.

 “You were mine. You were always mine. Even when I wasn’t there, you–­­­“ The tears fell from her eyes and Irene let them drop to the ground. Wesley had never seen her this way before. The other takes had gone smoothly, she’d been perfect, but now was different and he didn’t know why and it disturbed him.

“Irene–“ Wesley breathed too low for anyone to notice. He reached out to gently grab hold of Irene’s arm, but she slapped it away roughly. Her eyes still on the ground, she took a slow step backwards.

As her eyes shot up to meet his with an earnest stare, the alarm sounded and his body went numb, as if completely paralyzed. He became stiff as the glass on the bridge around them. Irene backed away further, never losing the hold of his eyes. Wesley could see her lips moving, but there was no sound.

Just like my dream, he thought.

But nonetheless, Wesley could somehow make out the words, as if by intuition. They were the words she’d never spoken aloud, as if even the mention of them would bring misfortune. In all her life, she’d laughed at them indifferently, as if they were the biggest joke on this planet. But now, they were the only words she could possibly choose to convey her true feelings.

Before he realized it, Irene had climbed up on the glass railing of the bridge, balancing between danger and safety. She looked down at him from where she stood, and she slowly spread her arms to her sides. She took a deep breath of the cool night air, and Wesley found himself doing the same. His fingers were tingling and somewhere at the back of his mind he could feel that it meant something, but staring at Irene, he couldn’t get himself to care about it.

Somewhere in the far distance Wesley could hear a feral sound moving towards them, but he was too engrossed in the evanescent smile on Irene’s lips to really notice. It was shining brilliantly, blinding him more the longer he stared, yet he could not tear his eyes from it. Although tiny in reality, it was supreme in his eyes. As the soft wind bit his cheeks, he suddenly realized what Irene had whispered.

Terror grew bigger as the pieces fell into place. Tears were suddenly pouring down his cheeks and his hands were trembling. His knees grew weak, yet he threw himself at the railing, at Irene. Wesley could see the single tear stroking her cheek.

And then it was gone.

Irene was gone.

And there we have it ladies and gentlemen.

I really hope you enjoyed it and if you didn't, I'm sorry it didn't fit your taste. If you like, leave a comment telling me what I could improve or what you liked about it. The point in creating this story was after all to improve my english and my writing, so if you're feeling generous, please do help me with that (^.^)

Anyway, thank you for reading!