Like Ghosts in Snow
Hate
Gloriously pale, I couldn't stop looking at her. She seemed as if she despised the sound of my voice. Completely bored by our stage presence. I was just finishing up ‘Give 'em Hell Kid’ and our eyes met. The glare was like nothing else I've ever experienced first hand. It was like we had been best-friends forever and I had just stabbed her in the back.
After a few short seconds she looked away, her smooth, jet black hair slightly covering her insanely beautiful, anger-stricken face.
I finished the set, my eyes rarely ever leaving her seating section; Completely distracted. We finally got back up to the hotel room and I hopped in the shower in hopes that the scalding spray could wash her from my mind. After about 20 minutes, the burning water began to sting my skin and I got out. I dried off fast and threw on a black hoody and a pair of black skinny jeans and fixed my dripping wet hair to a decent looking black mop, slightly draping my eyes. I smeared on some black eyeliner, and decided I needed a smoke and some coffee.
It was pretty late but I figured the hotel café would still be open so I told the guys I would be downstairs for a few hours, thinking. They seemed concerned by how distracted I must have looked; I could see it on their faces. But they let me go on without questioning.
I left my hotel room and made my way down the quiet, elegantly decorated hallway, in the direction of the elevators. I found them easily, and pressed the cold metal button with a downward pointing arrow engraved into it. The six elevators each had a small screen above them that had the number of the floor they were currently on. I watched as one, which had previously been on 9 went up. 10... 11... 12... 14 (Fancy hotels always skip the 13th floor; it's supposedly unlucky.)... 15. The 15 was replaced with an arrow pointing down and the doors slid open with a ding. I walked into the small, box-shaped space. The three walls were covered by mirrors. I looked at myself and cringed.
By simply looking at my reflection, the average person would see nothing wrong. I was freshly showered and in clean clothes with a small ring of smudge eyeliner surrounding my light brown eyes.
I, knowing better, could see past that into my dark circles and thinning frame. Things hadn't been great in the band lately. Sure, Mikey was back, and that was great, but it wasn't the same anymore. To add to that, Frank has been worried about his aunt, who was having some serious medical problems, and Bob has to have surgery on his wrist soon. Everyone says it'll get better, but I have this horrible feeling that it won't. I don't know. I'm probably just being paranoid.
My mind wondered back to that girl. The one from the show that night. Why was she looking at me like that? Like she would like nothing more than to rip my head off and drain all the blood from my body? And why did I feel so drawn to her? So intrigued by her? Why did I want to know more about her at all? It's pretty obvious that she hates me (though for some completely unknown reason). I don't really know. I would very much like to, though.
I was snapped from my thoughts as the elevator dinged and the doors opened, revealing the lavishly furnished lobby. I walked out of the elevator and looked around for a sign of where exactly the hotel café might be. My eyes stopped at a green and white sign that clearly said 'Café' and pointed down a wide corridor.
I walked in the direction of the arrow, taking in my surroundings. For it being so late, it was sure busy down there.
There were people checking into the hotel, people walking in and out of the small 'gift shop’, clutching their bags full of over-price souvenirs, toiletries, and gossip magazines, they were sitting in the lounges, grasping their paper-back novels and laptop computers, and there were people sitting in the café.
I was seated in the back and offered a menu, but said I would just like a coffee. My train of thought went back to the girl. I swear. It's unhealthy for me to think about someone so much. I was even starting to imagine her being in places.
Wait a minute, That wasn’t my imagination, she really was sitting there, in all her pale white glory, a few tables away, and she was staring -- no, glaring -- right at me.
After a few short seconds she looked away, her smooth, jet black hair slightly covering her insanely beautiful, anger-stricken face.
I finished the set, my eyes rarely ever leaving her seating section; Completely distracted. We finally got back up to the hotel room and I hopped in the shower in hopes that the scalding spray could wash her from my mind. After about 20 minutes, the burning water began to sting my skin and I got out. I dried off fast and threw on a black hoody and a pair of black skinny jeans and fixed my dripping wet hair to a decent looking black mop, slightly draping my eyes. I smeared on some black eyeliner, and decided I needed a smoke and some coffee.
It was pretty late but I figured the hotel café would still be open so I told the guys I would be downstairs for a few hours, thinking. They seemed concerned by how distracted I must have looked; I could see it on their faces. But they let me go on without questioning.
I left my hotel room and made my way down the quiet, elegantly decorated hallway, in the direction of the elevators. I found them easily, and pressed the cold metal button with a downward pointing arrow engraved into it. The six elevators each had a small screen above them that had the number of the floor they were currently on. I watched as one, which had previously been on 9 went up. 10... 11... 12... 14 (Fancy hotels always skip the 13th floor; it's supposedly unlucky.)... 15. The 15 was replaced with an arrow pointing down and the doors slid open with a ding. I walked into the small, box-shaped space. The three walls were covered by mirrors. I looked at myself and cringed.
By simply looking at my reflection, the average person would see nothing wrong. I was freshly showered and in clean clothes with a small ring of smudge eyeliner surrounding my light brown eyes.
I, knowing better, could see past that into my dark circles and thinning frame. Things hadn't been great in the band lately. Sure, Mikey was back, and that was great, but it wasn't the same anymore. To add to that, Frank has been worried about his aunt, who was having some serious medical problems, and Bob has to have surgery on his wrist soon. Everyone says it'll get better, but I have this horrible feeling that it won't. I don't know. I'm probably just being paranoid.
My mind wondered back to that girl. The one from the show that night. Why was she looking at me like that? Like she would like nothing more than to rip my head off and drain all the blood from my body? And why did I feel so drawn to her? So intrigued by her? Why did I want to know more about her at all? It's pretty obvious that she hates me (though for some completely unknown reason). I don't really know. I would very much like to, though.
I was snapped from my thoughts as the elevator dinged and the doors opened, revealing the lavishly furnished lobby. I walked out of the elevator and looked around for a sign of where exactly the hotel café might be. My eyes stopped at a green and white sign that clearly said 'Café' and pointed down a wide corridor.
I walked in the direction of the arrow, taking in my surroundings. For it being so late, it was sure busy down there.
There were people checking into the hotel, people walking in and out of the small 'gift shop’, clutching their bags full of over-price souvenirs, toiletries, and gossip magazines, they were sitting in the lounges, grasping their paper-back novels and laptop computers, and there were people sitting in the café.
I was seated in the back and offered a menu, but said I would just like a coffee. My train of thought went back to the girl. I swear. It's unhealthy for me to think about someone so much. I was even starting to imagine her being in places.
Wait a minute, That wasn’t my imagination, she really was sitting there, in all her pale white glory, a few tables away, and she was staring -- no, glaring -- right at me.