~B×th~

Storms.
They always scared me. More than having lung cancer, more than finally falling in love, more than people and even more than death or, more accurately, just as much as death. The sky was just as dark as it had been a day ago. The strong wind forced windows shut and the thunder claps seemed to make me deaf even as the world seemed to be screaming. Yet I walked underneath it with nothing but a pair of jean shorts and an oversized hoodie that slid off my left shoulder.

"Beth."
My ear ached just at the sound of him recklessly call my name. I hated the jerk and he knew it yet he chose to call me everyday, offer me a cigarette and ask for a conversation. I continued to make my way out of the orphanage without minding him even as he called my name repeatedly behind me. Damien really never got tired of me, it's been several punches in the face and a couple of obliterated make outs that ended up futiley and  he still couldn't keep his manhood to himself.

"Hey. It's me," he panted behind me.

"You know I always ignore you," I stated bluntly gripping the gate before jumping the first bars.

"I swear not to...."

I looked back at him and jumped back down. "what this time?"

"There's a deal" he whispered.

"Are you speechless" I asked mocking him as I pulled at the strings of his hoodie. He grinned and bit his lower lip, he thought he knew I was mocking him. I always did that to my selfish comical advantage.

"No. I'm serious." He said giving off all the hurt in his tone.

I frowned slightly and let go of the strings before going back towards the gate, "Come to our room--" I grabbed on the gate "--And give us the details"

He watched as I jumped over the gate. I wasn't in the most constant mood to do anything and deals then wasn't at all relevant. The cigarettes in my pocket did and the lighter that I gripped on to in my hoodie pocket, too. Probably I could blow angst's head off that night and finally overcome bad. My heart beat was uneven although relaxed. I was barely thinking. I wasn't even thinking, per say.

Stormy things happen on stormy nights.

There were some nights when I wanted to be alone. When I wanted to breathe in my own space, without the fear of being watched, talk to myself, feel like everything I've ever accomplished is shit and futiley think of how to fix myself. No friends, no drunks, no choking fumes from e-cigars and alcohol stench, no chatter, no chaos, nobody but the people who mindlessly walked under the storm - at least five feets away from each other. I wanted to walk with my shadow under lights that didn't seem to make the darkness any better and when all that disturbed was the angry music blaring from someone's radio. It was just me feeling all the angst necessary to want to walk into a truck and vanish from existence.

Sometimes, on nights like this, I wondered if anyone was going to feel bad for my death apart from Ryan and Charlie. Usually I imagined myself turning to dust, settling on people's mind for hours before vanishing into thin air. It scared me, my after life. Once I wanted to be an engineer and rule the world, I could barely rule my mind anymore. As it got colder, I hurried - to nowhere specifically although somehow I knew I was going to end up somewhere I always end up.
In the abyss.

I doubt it existence existed because it was always empty and my cans of paint never got stolen. They stay just where I put them - by the dumpsters. I slid into the human sized space between the two tall buildings and jumped down into the once used area. Nearly the size of an actual abyss, It was large enough to paint every shit I thought of on the concrete floor. I picked  two cans at once, ready to put out all the shit I seemed to hold when my eyes caught something unusual.
An intruder.

One of my cans stood at the center of my first graffiti.
It was just the word 'abyss' written at the back of an old truck. But that night it had become more than that - a girl sat on the truck, which looked like it was in the middle of nowhere, looking up at the dark sky. No moon, no stars. Just the girl and her truck. I smiled slowly bending to pick my can. I wasn't the only one who felt alone in the world, some else did.

"Pretty cool, ahhn?"
I turned back to face the green eyed figure behind me who was already lighting a cigarette. As the almost dying street light luminated above him, I immediately thought he was a footballer or a basketballer or rather one those guys who always wore black hoodies lurking in the dark so you don't realise when they stow off with everything in your pocket.

"Oh well." I shrugged picking up the can with the space between my left elbow. He jumped down causing his hoodie to come off. There was a small but noticeable scar on the side of his forehead - which made me a little suspicious. He smiled as I walked down trying to find an empty space. He had altered all of my graffiti, making them more complicated than I had ever imagined. But Beth didn't praise people, it doesn't work for me.

"You are really ignoring me." He paused. "Well I wasn't looking for a conversation, just wanted my can back," he said bluntly. I feigned and looked down at the can in my elbow, realising that it didn't have my signature on it.

"Sorry," I apologised.
I always apologise, at least when I was on my own. It was that side of me that seemed to piss me off but I shrugged at it before out stretching my elbow towards him. He blew out a puff of smoke and took the can before turning against me. He bent over one the graffiti again and started to spray. I frowned but then continued to look for an empty space.

For a while I just crouched over,
Few minutes ago Beth, I thought, you wanted to pour out shit.

"I can't get anything done too," he yelled a little from where he sat looking at the vandalised floor.

I ignored him, shaking one of the cans. I was nervous, very nervous - and it was normal. I tried to at least to draw a line but I ended up spraying the tip of my hair.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath pushing my hair behind my ears, I couldn't actually come to anything.

"Ignoring doesn't always work. I tried and I failed, why wouldn't you fail."

I looked up at him in dismay. He grinned at my reaction before he bent down besides me.
"Do you smoke?" he asked settling on the floor.

"No." I really tried to finalise or rather answer more bluntly so he wouldn't push further.

"Okay. I guess I ruined your moment--" he gestured as he spoke, "--but you know--" he blew a puff of smoke "--I've been waiting here every night for four days, simply curious to know who Bthany is." He pointed to the small signature on one of my cans.

I smiled, relaxing my nerves a little. He studied me before talking,
"I'm Devon."

"Hmmn - sausage. I get it" I joked pointing to the word "sausage" casually written on the can he was holding. He shrugged - but not coarsely.
"Beth" I introduced.

"I know" he said with amusement. He looked at me like I was stupid - or naive, "so what inspires you?" he asked casually.

"Silence," I sassed shaking the can again.

"Meaning this guy--" he pointed to himself "--should shut up?"

"Can't tell," I replied truthfully dropping can, pondering if talking to him was enough to waste time on. I finally kicked the can away. I never really got the chance to make new friends, So I settled on the floor too,
"No. By silence, I mean loneliness.." I corrected truthfully, I would probably never see him in the outside world so my reputation was still quite okay.

He threw out his cigarette and lit another one,
"Tell me how Beth.... how does silence echo?" he asked out of the blues blowing out another cloudy puff of smoke. How could I? Explaining silence was like silence itself  - a scream so loud, no one could hear. I knew because it was my thing, our thing.

I shrugged, "I can't explain it."

"And you wrote it?"

"Maybe." I shrugged.

He smiled, "you're just like Halo." He looked at me intently again, "Are you sure you don't smoke?"

I really can't tell yet...

"For how long have you been coming here," I asked getting more comfortable on the cold floor. He ignored me completely, shutting his eyes. He reminded me of Ryan - whenever she smokes, she had to keep her eyes shut or else she would cry. She had said sometimes she was so sad and scared she wanted cry yet it wasn't what she needed. So she didn't cry, but we know she does - on some particular nights.

His eyes abruptly flew open and he sighed causing smoke to come out of his nostrils, then he rubbed his forehead and sat up.
"Ever since I had this scar." He showed me the scar on his forehead. It was deeper than I thought it was. It looked like he was -
"I got stabbed--" he cooed as if to make a joke "--and it hurts as all fuck" he gritted running his fingers across it. I continued looking at the scar until he spoke,
"Do you have parents?" he asked looking down at me.

I moved away from him and lay on my back before answering,
"No." I seemed to have sliced the air, causing the atmosphere to seem sadder than it had already been. And I didn't want to but I guess I forgot that I could barely control my mind and all that was spewing in me was emotions - nothing more.

"Do you like pity or not?" He sounded serious throwing out his cigar. He made to light another one futiley flicking his lighter,
"Oh fuck"  He threw his lighter into the darkness and groaned.
Just like Ryan.

I offered him mine. "you are just like someone I know - and I don't think anyone likes pity"
He smiled and lit his cigarette before, once more, relaxing. I couldn't have been surprised if he turned out to be an addict.

"I have a parent--" he swallowed hard "-- but he could have been better off dead."

Pretty long, but ....
pls vote and comment; it means the world to me.