Girl Getting Bitter
In the Cold Hours of Night.
Tufts of black hair peeked over the white blankets of Anastasie's bed. At the sound of church bells ringing through the morning air, movement was seen through the soft linen and a stiff body rose from the bed. The morning light filtered through the open blinds of large windows and
"What do you feel like doing today?" He called over the dull roar of the shower.
Anastasie didn't reply and Fabrice didn't ask twice.
"Charlot's coming to get me today. We're going to go over my shoot criteria," Anastasie said softly.
She leaned her head back into the steady beat of the shower and washed out her hair. The water fell anonymously over their body for what felt like an infinity. Anastasie was so lost in the gentle spray, that she didn't notice the numbingly cold water in the shower. A shiver ran down her spine and woke Anastasie up from her dream, quickly turning off the water and grabbing a towel.
The taller man ran the soft cotton over his body slowly while yawning loudly and shuddering. He coughed a few times while drying himself off before wrapping the towel around his small waist. Fabrice strolled over to Anastasie's counter, rummaging around until he found a comb and a hair dryer. Fabrice set to work with drying and straightening his short black hair, prepared to spend an endless amount of hours to get it perfect again. Anastasie just shook out her hair and found a comb, untangling the endless knots and unruly curls in her hair.
The room was absent of speech and soon, the bathroom began to heat up from the light bulbs. A dull ache ran through Fabrice's veins, pricking at each tiny nerve and cell until an unrequited urge struck him like a hammer. He immediately dropped the hair dryer, dropped the comb, dropped all his thoughts, and rushed into Anastasie's bedroom. In the process of crossing the room for the one thing that made him "better", he ignored Anastasie's words. They fell on rushing, deaf ears as Fabrice sat on a girl's bed, flipped open a knife, and inhaled as much cocaine as his body would allow him to.
Pushing his hair from his face . He grinned at the familiar feeling of guilt and disgust bubbling up from his toes to his chest. The bedsheets below him offered an unfamiliar smell; a caressing, soothing scent of roses and innocence, replacing the over-whelming stench of vomit and rejection. Slowly, Fabrice's golden nakedness unfolded from itself and alluring green globes beckoned Anastasie to his side. But she didn't move.
Anastasie's slightly tanned frame was frozen in surfeit realization. She shook her head and watched as Fabrice groaned and pressed himself further into the sheets, biting his bottom lip and demanding that she listen to him. With a disoriented cry, Anastasie took small steps until her knees collided with the edge of the bed. She crawled up to Fabrice and welcomed his warm flesh as she sobbed into his skin.
"Oh god, Fabrice. "
Neglected words faded into the air as Fabrice was too far gone to listen to her. He simply clawed at her neck and brought her into a desperate embrace as his own tears of abhorrence fell and landed on warmed bedsheets.
"What do you feel like doing today?" He called over the dull roar of the shower.
Anastasie didn't reply and Fabrice didn't ask twice.
"Charlot's coming to get me today. We're going to go over my shoot criteria," Anastasie said softly.
She leaned her head back into the steady beat of the shower and washed out her hair. The water fell anonymously over their body for what felt like an infinity. Anastasie was so lost in the gentle spray, that she didn't notice the numbingly cold water in the shower. A shiver ran down her spine and woke Anastasie up from her dream, quickly turning off the water and grabbing a towel.
The taller man ran the soft cotton over his body slowly while yawning loudly and shuddering. He coughed a few times while drying himself off before wrapping the towel around his small waist. Fabrice strolled over to Anastasie's counter, rummaging around until he found a comb and a hair dryer. Fabrice set to work with drying and straightening his short black hair, prepared to spend an endless amount of hours to get it perfect again. Anastasie just shook out her hair and found a comb, untangling the endless knots and unruly curls in her hair.
The room was absent of speech and soon, the bathroom began to heat up from the light bulbs. A dull ache ran through Fabrice's veins, pricking at each tiny nerve and cell until an unrequited urge struck him like a hammer. He immediately dropped the hair dryer, dropped the comb, dropped all his thoughts, and rushed into Anastasie's bedroom. In the process of crossing the room for the one thing that made him "better", he ignored Anastasie's words. They fell on rushing, deaf ears as Fabrice sat on a girl's bed, flipped open a knife, and inhaled as much cocaine as his body would allow him to.
Pushing his hair from his face . He grinned at the familiar feeling of guilt and disgust bubbling up from his toes to his chest. The bedsheets below him offered an unfamiliar smell; a caressing, soothing scent of roses and innocence, replacing the over-whelming stench of vomit and rejection. Slowly, Fabrice's golden nakedness unfolded from itself and alluring green globes beckoned Anastasie to his side. But she didn't move.
Anastasie's slightly tanned frame was frozen in surfeit realization. She shook her head and watched as Fabrice groaned and pressed himself further into the sheets, biting his bottom lip and demanding that she listen to him. With a disoriented cry, Anastasie took small steps until her knees collided with the edge of the bed. She crawled up to Fabrice and welcomed his warm flesh as she sobbed into his skin.
"Oh god, Fabrice. "
Neglected words faded into the air as Fabrice was too far gone to listen to her. He simply clawed at her neck and brought her into a desperate embrace as his own tears of abhorrence fell and landed on warmed bedsheets.