Moth Wing

There are walls to this house.
There are windows too, but I have done my best to forget about them.

Josephine sits on the floor in front of me, the light of the torch painting a white circle by her feet, and there are moths circling her head in a powdery halo.
She is small, all vindictive fire and cold hands, but there is a look on her face which I know will be my undoing.

"How much do you love me?"
Her question is quiet, slipping strangely through the darkness to curl into the corners of my eyes, and I do not miss the way that her finger rests so delicately atop the off button of the torch.

I am scared of many things, Josephine knows this, just as well as I know that Josephine is scared of nothing.

I can hear my heartbeat as it trembles through the silence that has stretched between us. It echoes from far away, a stuttering gasp, and there is a cruelty to Josephine's smile that makes the air catch in my mouth.

"How much?"

I met Josephine at a party (though you know better than anyone that I am hardly the partying sort). She was sitting out in the garden, a pale saint beneath the stars, and there were goose bumps on her arms from the autumn chill.

She kissed me on the mouth when I asked for her name, her eyes overbright in the darkness, and I would have thought that she was about to cry, except that even then I knew that she wouldn't.

Josephine isn't a normal girl. She is quick, and vicious, and she knows far too many secrets

"Esther" her voice is cold in the darkness, the light dimming behind her smile, "Esther I asked you a question."

I look away from her, cornered, and her fingers touch my cheek. They feel like a moth wing, powder soft, and I close my eyes tightly.

If you rub away the dust from a moth's wings it cannot fly anymore.
I knew the sacrifice I made for my selfishness, though it was not my sacrifice to make. I trapped those moths against the windows of this house in tissues.
(before I met Josephine, before I met you).
I felt their frantic wing beats inside of my palms, and I ran my fingertips over their wings and cleaned them of their freedom.

I would climb onto the roof of this house, a cloudless sky caught inside of my ribcage, and the moth dust would stick my fingers together. I would stand on the edge of the guttering, an echo of a wing beat, a heart beat (and aren't they the same thing?) held within my hands, and I would convince myself to jump.

I never did, and perhaps that is my failing, perhaps that is why Josephine kissed me, and perhaps that is why I let her.

"Come on Esther, don't be shy. I'm quite sure that we are well past that."

Josephine slides over on the floor beside me, her hair soft when it touches the side of my neck. It smells like warmth, like the sheets of my bed, and her lips are dry when they brush against my forehead.

She has left the torch on the floor where she was before she moved, the white circle empty and plain, and I watch, my heart in my mouth, as one pale moth lands on the floorboards.
It moves awkwardly across the floor, its wings a heavy burden, and I breathe out shakily as Josephine's nose presses against my left eyelid.

"And now for the million dollar answer- Miss Esther?"

And I cannot say it. I cannot bare my heart to her (she is after all not you), and I open my mouth to do nothing but take another useless breath.

Then Josephine's fingers are in my mouth, they prise my teeth apart, her fingernails scratching gently over my gums, and her eyes are inescapable when she leans in close.
I breath in hard through my nose, and I can almost feel my pupils flare.

"Why can't you say it?" her voice is pained, hurt, but it betrays the spite that lies beneath.
"Why can't you just say it?"

(and didn't I say it to you?)

A moth hits my cheek, a pale accusation, and her hand drops away from my mouth.

Her eyelashes are soft, they beat against my face when she blinks, and when she kisses me I can feel myself beginning to drown. Her hand touches my shirt, directly above my heart, and she unbuttons it slowly.

I can feel my poor heart. It pushes and strains and fights, but it cannot escape this dark haired girl who wants it so fiercely.

Josephine's lips touch the bottom of my neck, her tongue traces across one collarbone, and her hand slips across the skin of my breast. She pulls at my hair and-

Do you remember how we met?
I was so scared, I thought I was going to die.
I was just standing there, white knuckled and so horribly, so painfully young, that there was no escaping it, and you didn't know what to say.

I don't know what you saw when you looked at me, perhaps I looked terribly brave to you, in my awkwardly high socks, my starched collared shirt.
But I'm telling you now, I sure wasn’t brave.

I don't know where you've gone, or even why you left in the first place. I miss you so bad it hurts, and that scares me too.
I am scared that you'll come back one day, and you won't recognise me, or even worse, that I won't recognise you.

I'm scared that one day you'll come back, and you'll have a whole new life. I am scared that you'll come back and Josephine will never let me go.

I am scared that maybe you never went anywhere, and that I am the one who left.

I sit here, in this darkened room, with my cowards heart, and I am so scared that I want to cry.

Josephine kisses me on my left breast (above the place where you left your mark) and the moth walks its circle of light.
It is so quiet in this house that not even our breaths can shake it.

"How much do you love me?" Josephine's question is velvet and sharp, her teeth biting into my side, and I reach out and brush the black hair from her eyes.

She blinks up at me, dark lashes in a pale face, and I kiss her first on one eyelid and then the other. She sighs beneath me like a winter gale, all hidden frost and cold, and I press my forehead against hers.

I can feel my heart trembling, the moth falling on its back, and Josephine's mouth is just as it always is.

There is darkness outside this house, the curtains will remain closed, and so it is dark within it too. I will stay here, and I will wait for you.
I will wait here so that you can come and quench the fear that has held me now for so long. I will wait here so that you can come and make it worse.

I will wait here with my selfish, cowardly heart, and Josephine will wait too.

We will meet you at the door.

Don't forget to bring a torch.

It is dark here.