v. closed eyes

i've been

losing sleep,

keeping myself

awake. wondering

the streets for days

and days.

She wakes up with a sore back, alone on her queen-sized bed she’s pretty sure she shared with Caroline the night before, with a very dry throat and a dire need of some water to quench the thirst she’s feeling out of a sudden.

Cerise throws her legs over the edge of the bed, stretching a little bit and moaning, feeling her muscles expand and bones cracking at the sudden movement, thing that she can say that isn’t pleasant to hear for sure. The house is eerily quiet and there’s not a sound besides the squeaking of the floor boards under her weight to keep her from coming up with the worst scenarios her fuzzy mind is capable of conceiving. She takes small steps towards the kitchen, descending down the stairs as if she’s on a red carpet and there are cameras following her every move, ready to laugh when she trips or when she miscalculates the steps, with daggers in their teeth and claws for fingers that sink in her back and guide her down the road. She walks to the kitchen in her past persona, allowing herself to be her true self for the first time since her arrival in the little town that will never compare to the cities she has at her feet, who yell her name in airports and in salons when women get their hair done just like hers to try and pass as a poor replica of the true queen.

This charade of hers stops, however, once she feels the cold tiles under her feet, bringing her back to reality and making her snap her eyes open as if she’s getting out of  rabbit’s hole, as if she’s been trapped for an eternity too long in a reality that isn’t quite hers. She shakes off the thoughts of the life she has taken a break from, the life she was forced to depart with because her friends claim it has turned toxic for her, ‘you no longer smile’, they say, as if they know what her true smiles look like. Cerise opens the fridge, taking a bottle of water and opening it, gulping down more than half of it in one go, pulling it away from her lips seconds after to catch her breath, for she has turned red to the cheeks in a way that is anything but alluring right now. She listens for sounds, for life in the house, even one that reeks of death and of carnage, but finds none, sighing dejectedly because of that. She leans against the table, staring at nothing in particular and trying to come up with a battle strategy to tackle the day with. She needs to do something other than cling to Caroline in a very desperate attempt, to finally clench her jaw and step into the new world she has been thrown into, to face the people she had insulted last night and ultimately—face the consequences that came with her rash behavior.

So, she pushes herself away from the table, placing the bottle on its surface and sauntering back to her room, almost tripping over the last stair she forgot was there, a curse slipping past her lips and echoing in the empty house. Cerise regains her balance, opening the door to her room and going straight to the wardrobe that is smaller than the one she has at home and bigger than the one she would’ve needed to place all of her belongings in, skimming the clothes she has in it and opting for a casual outfit yet again, consisting of a pair of dark jeans, a black wifebeater and a cardigan to put over it in case the weather is colder than she had assumed when she looked out of the window.

It doesn’t take her long to get ready, simply because there’s no one to watch her and judge her every mover and she’s pretty darn sure the people in the town couldn’t care less about the shade of her lipstick and how accurate her winged eyeliner is. She just slaps on some makeup on her face, slips into her sneakers and heads out of the house, locking the door before her and jogging away from the property, her pony tail swinging with each of her move. She smiles slightly at the people she passes, trying not to be brought down by their lack of acknowledgement. Cerise is making her way to the Grill, having remembered hearing Caroline talking about how it serves food besides alcoholic beverages, and considering she didn’t eat anything for breakfast because of her awful culinary skills, she thinks it’s her best shot at getting her stomach full.

And thus, Cerise takes the same route as last night, only that this time, she takes her time observing the buildings and the monotone feeling they give her, the normality that almost makes her choke on her own spit because of how out of place she feels.

//

She enters the Grill with rebellious strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, her chest heaving up and down with each harsh breath she intakes while trying to tame her restless lungs that still fight against the damage the unexpected run in the morning have made. She enters the grill and goes to the closest free booth she spots, slipping in one of the chairs and clicking her tongue as she looks around the bar, happy to see that not many people are gathered here, opposite to the busy night yesterday was. She’s even gladder she doesn’t stop any of Caroline’s friends for she doesn’t have an excuse to give them for her behavior and she scowls at the thought of even having to give them any when Damon was obviously the one in the wrong. And they were as well for not having said anything.

She hears footsteps nearing her table and she, without knowing, is already reciting her order in her head lest she fucks up and stutters in front of the unknown boy she’s really fucking sure she will encounter again, and without even meaning to, she says it out loud, only realizing her mistake when it is already a minute too late.

“Fries and a coke with ice, please”

Shit, fuck, balls, shitting fucking balls.

“Very wise pick, love.”

It’s only when she hears the amused voice that she raises her gaze from the table, staring at the man for a second before narrowing her eyes when she sees he is dressed a little bit too casual, sporting an arrogant aura around him with no name on her shirt to be one of the waiters. The man doesn’t give her the time to say something or even protest for he has already slipped in the seat across of hers, looking at her dead in the eyes without as much as wavering while she is close to shaking. She didn’t fucking expect somebody new to approach her here. Especially not having expected to make a fool out of herself.

She wishes she had the power to control her body’s reaction to the embarrassing situation she found herself in, but she can’t and thus, her cheeks flash red, bright under the natural light of the bar.  The way his grin grows bigger doesn’t go unnoticed by her and she finds herself having to bite on her tongue and curl her hand into a tiny fist to stop herself from bending over the table and slapping it off his face. She is already annoyed by this unknown man and she doesn’t even know his name.

“Now, don’t look so grim, love. It was but an honest mistake anyone could have made.” Cerise takes in his accent, pinpointing it as being British and marvels at it for it is pure and classy and every word is articulate in a way she can only admire. While she shares the exact same accent as him, she has yet to acquire such elegance to her speech. But what she certainly does not appreciate is the condescending manner in which he talked to her, making her scoff slightly at his words and turn her head away from him.

“Do you take pleasure in tormenting innocent people?” her voice is calm despite the annoyance she feels, despite the anger she feels bubbling in her chest towards him and her both. She tilts her head to the right, finally looking into his eyes on her own account, noticing the incredible colour they hold, making her almost gasp. They remind her of the ocean in the summer, when her parents took her into the depth of it and showed her the seaweed growing on the bottom of it.

But then, she scrunches up her nose, having to hold tightly onto the edge of the table to stop herself from hunching over and spilling the content of her empty stomach, for the stench of death fills her nose, the carnage in which the man has bathed makes her nauseous, makes her head spin. That and the fact that he is a hybrid. And hybrids, from her own personal experience, are very fickle creatures that are often self-entitled bastards with ego problems. She is pretty darn sure the man won’t prove himself to be the exception from the rule.

“Not at all.”

She sighs, drumming her fingers against the surface and giving him a look-over as he takes in his appearance, suddenly angry that he can look so good without putting much effort into his outfit, thing that makes it hard for her to deny the fact that he is a very attractive man and she would have started flirting with him already having it not been for the fact that he is a dreadful combination of a werewolf and a vampire and often those like him have inherited only the worst of traits from these sides.

“So tell me, stranger, why have you decided on talking with me despite the reason of boredom? I am pretty sure you have other better things to do, like world domination or some other dark stuff than to talk with a petty human as I am” She waves her hand in a casual manner, almost smirking when she sees the change in his expression, the sudden hardening of his eyes at the way the playful aura has disappeared. She has definitely hit a soft spot.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised, hybrid”, she says the last word in slowly, articulating it with carefulness, looking him dead in the eyes as he did just moment ago and marveling in the feeling of having the upper hand against somebody as powerful as he must surely be, “ I have my tricks. It’s pretty hard not to figure it out when you fucking reek of it.”

Cerise doesn’t give him the chance to come up with a good retort or start questioning her as he raises her hand and watches the actual waiter heading to their table. She gives him her order, waving dismissively in the stranger’s direction and watches the boy walk away from them.

“What games are you playing, little girl?” Cerise takes notice of his suddenly dangerous low tone of his voice. It sends a shiver down her spine, but she has never been one to back down from a challenge and this is nowhere close to an exception.

“I am playing no game, hybrid. You are the one who came onto me and quite rudely made fun of my honest mistake. I have no business with you or with what you do as long as you stay the fuck away from me and leave me be. Did I make myself clear?” She says in a stern voice, making sure she got her message across. She absolutely abhors having to repeat herself.

“Nobody gets away with speaking to me like that. I will make sure we will cross paths again.” The hybrid says after some painful moments of silence, standing up at the same time and throwing her one more displeased look before walking towards the entrance door and finally, exiting the bar and allowing her to let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in.

She really should think twice before speaking up against some unknown supernatural creature who wouldn’t think twice about snapping her neck, for the consequences of their actions are unknown to them and by the time they would be aware, she’d long be gone from the land of living.

When she finally receives her food, she can’t force herself to pretend she’s actually enjoying it, despite the fries being delicious. After some more minutes of lingering around and playing around with them, she pushes her plate away and grabs her cardigan she had slipped when she first took a seat, making her way back to Caroline’s house with a very annoyed expression on her face she doesn’t get rid of until later that day, when her mood has already been spoiled.

//

She takes a nap, falls into a deep slumber and only wakes up when the sun has already hidden from the penetrating stares of the moon, shielded itself from its love like a lovelorn fool who fell in love too many times and actually loved too few. She takes a nap, falls asleep and closes her eyes at the world and at the things going on because it’s the one of the few things she is capable of doing without ending up screwing them up, because someone once told her she’s most beautiful when she’s asleep and silent and still and close to being dead. And the words still ring in her ear whenever she is close to falling into oblivion, so close to digging her nails into its soul and clinging onto it with uncanny desperation, as if the idea of falling has never been more traumatizing and horrible.

But she wakes up eventually, always does, because beauty is a fleeting thing and she isn’t the one with enough power to mold herself around the gaping space between the rules of the universe and she isn’t an adequate opponent for the way things are. She wakes up with glassy eyes, a fuzzy mind and fragment of memories of an encounter that turned into something very wrong, full of her mistakes and indiscretions, and she remembers she did the one thing she has avoided doing—drawing unnecessary attention to herself, catching the eyes of the supernatural beings she knows for a fact know nothing about forgiveness and mercy.

She isn’t scared, she’s never been scared, for she has been dancing along the edge between danger and insanity for as long as she’s been alive and it’s a survival skill she had been taught when little and still hopeful, still dreaming. She still remembers the way her little arms hurt each time her father tried to make her grasp the bow properly, to aim at the tree and shoot, and shoot and kill and make a path of dead bodies for her to cross because that’s the fate of those who have that god forsaken blood in their veins, running free under a sun that doesn’t gives off warmth at all and is but the reminder of an impediment doom.

Cerise is pulled out of her thoughts by the noises downstairs. The girl almost trips on the sheets that have pooled around the legs of her bed on the floor, but somehow finds her balance and steps out of her room with a newfound sense of shyness and timidity, going down the stairs in a silent manner, despite knowing that if the person responsible for the sound is a vampire or some other being of the night, they would hear her coming either way. She doesn’t like the thought of having someone other than Caroline around her, so she shivers at the mere thought, wraps her arms around her as if to protect herself from the unseen danger and goes to the kitchen, cracking the door open and waiting for the person to make themselves known to her.

And they do so, Caroline does, popping up in front of her and scaring her shitless, enough for her to let out a blood-curling scream and take a few steps backwards, jabbing her hip in one of the table’s corners. She brings her hand to the injured area as she lets a string of curses fall from her lips like a mantra, like a prayer, not forgetting to throw Caroline some very hard glares that would make anyone shrink themselves at the sight of. Caroline does exactly that only that she comes up to her shortly after getting used to the intensity of them and getting past the initial shock, putting her hand over Cerise’s and adding pressure to the bruise forming at a rapid pace.

“Jesus Christ, Cerise, you scared the Beejesus outta me!”

“I should be the one saying that, Care! What in the world gave you the bloody impression that getting up in my face that way would a brilliant idea?!” Cerise hisses, still in pain.

The blond vampire leads her to the couch and pushes her down on it, apologizing quickly when she hears the gasp of pain coming from her friend. She runs to the kitchen again, pulling out a pack of ice and coming back to her, pressing it quickly against the injury and looking at her in the eyes with an apologetic expression that warms Cerise’s hear in a matter of seconds, making her let out a sight and putting her hand gently upon Caroline’s head, ruffling her head affectionately and telling her over and over again that  no, she isn’t mad, but she is extremely surprised and she would appreciate it if this wouldn’t happen for a second time, thing with which Caroline quickly agrees.

They stay in that position for a while, not really saying anything, but they are both aware that words aren’t needed right now, not when Caroline’s hand is flat on her skin, on her quickly bruising skin that is even redder under the neon light of the living room, on her skin that she takes so much pride in and for good reason when she spends so much money on lotions and other things. Cerise might have found this extremely sensual, arousing even had it been another person, but with Caroline, it just feels like unlocking another level of their friendship, one that is even more intimate than the other for she could just pull her shirt up a little bit and see the scars that are now just strikes of white against the skin, slightly jabbing out, slightly swollen and not completely memories.

But Caroline doesn’t. She pulls away after a while longer and Cerise doesn’t know if it is disappointment that she is feeling. She doesn’t question it, doesn’t try and find the source of it. She goes with the flow, following Caroline to the kitchen and sitting at the table, right across of her. They both start eating their dinner in silence. They have exchange so much in so little time they’re too overwhelmed to say anything else.

It works just fine with them.

//

It’s past midnight. They’re still up, watching something irrelevant on the TV and eating some popcorn they had the bright idea of making. They slip some side-comments when an unrealistic scene comes up, but other than that—they are quiet. The silence doesn’t bother them, mostly because it is candid. They don’t have much to say, don’t find place for the words to enter their world and they don’t try and squeeze any.

But the silence is soon broken by the shrilling ring of Caroline’s phone that they try to ignore at first—it’s their girls’ night in and they’ve decided to be bothered by no one—but after the caller has insisted for a minute now, they both groan, pause the movie and Caroline stands up, throwing the pillow back on the couch and heads to the little bowl by the door to grab her phone and snap at whoever has dared to disturb her. Cerise watches in amusement, turning her body in such way she’s able to see every single one of Caroline’s reaction.

“What in the world would you want right now?” Her tone is harsh, annoyed and all but welcoming. Cerise watches her with curiosity, staring at her with a giggle bubbling in her throat, but stops when she notices how Caroline’s demeanor has suddenly changed, her body tensed and jaw clenched which means this is anything, but a friendly call.

Cerise turns around to face the TV with a sigh, patting the surface of the couch to find the remote and closing it for good. She’s been around supernatural beings for long enough to know that it never ends well when they become tensed and usually, normality is something out of question for them. She’s glad, however, that both of them got the opportunity to spend some days in each other’s company without having to worry about the other side of this world too much.

She gives Caroline the time she needs to ends the call and tries to act surprised when she comes back with a dark look on her face, plopping on the couch with a groan and bringing her hands to hold her head as she bends forward. Cerise scoots closer to her, rubbing her back and pulling back the locks of hair that have gotten out of her messy bun.

“Is everything cool?”

“No. Nothing is cool.” Caroline groans, leaning back against the couch and apologizing when she catches the brunette’s hand in between her back and the sofa. Cerise merely waves her hand and ushers her to continue.

“The Salvatore’s are throwing a party at their manor for some dumb thing, getting drunk and all and they insist on me being there, because apparently, one of their guests is really eager to meet me. I can certainly say the feeling isn’t mutual.”

“Well, do you want to go?” Cerise asks.

“No, no I don’t want to.” There’s a pause, the look of uncertainty so obvious in the blonde’s eyes it makes Cerise smile sympathetically.

“—but  they are going to be mad at you and you don’t want that.” Caroline merely nods, grateful and yet upset that Cerise was able to continue her sentences.

“What are we waiting for, then? Let’s wreck a party!”

Cerise stands up, pushing her chest out and sporting the smuggest expression she is capable of, looking down at Caroline with a look in her eyes that means she’s up to no good, and despite the fact that every single fiber in her body screams against the idea of being anything but peaceful, she stands up, pulling her in a bone-crushing hug and dragging her upstairs, laughing and thinking about all the things they are going to do.

Cerise merely shakes her head, but allows Care to act like a five year old. That’s what friends are for, right?

there's no salvation

for me now, no space

among the clouds and

i feel I'm heading down.