A Series of Unfortunate Miseries

I tapped my fingers against the edge of the table. Another day, another dosage of stupidity. Charlotte leaned against the table with her face resting in her palms. I watched her eyes close and the smell of nicotine flutter in the air.

"Charlotte, you're going to get me fucking cancer." I replied sternly.

Charlotte gave her best dirty look, "Well, well, we all have to die sometime."

"Not this early." I twisted my fingers tightly against my nose and looked away. We were both wasting time and discussing our conformist ideas. Charlotte was being too obscene. She was blurting out profanity and vulgar language that shouldn't even escape her lips. Even though she used them quite elegantly. I sighed at her witty yet threatening comments.

Charlotte.

I often referred to her as the penny stealer gone bad ass. She was poor, and made even poor decisions. She would get smashed every few nights she could. She needed to inhale the glassy smoke and exhale just to break her lungs. I glanced at her again. She was just staring out into space. Still on that damn Marlboro. She loved that feeling. The feeling of sipping that toxic liquid as it slipped down her throat. Then the burning feeling that plunged you into a faux euphoria. Then there was me.

Madeline.

I was just another regular. I dressed in a style nobody could dare duplicate. I was a target for doppelgangers and haters. Most of all, I had wings. No, not actual wings. Except I've been known to save people when they need it most. That's what I was for Charlotte.

Charlotte would take a long swig and it would disappear into laughter. I stared at her. I didn't do anything but stare. A bottle, another bottle, a broken bottle, until the floor became a hazard. I would watch her eyes sink in, and her soul burst into flames. Her face would become a ruddy red, and then it just stopped. Like the color was drenched from her face when I tried to shake her awake.

She was pale. She could be dead. But she was breathing. Except, inside, I already knew she was gone.
Charlotte would wake up the next morning. Crying. I found her lying in the bathroom once. All soaked in tears and cuts so deep, they probably would have bled internally. Even once, she hit me. I'm devoted. I stayed by her side. Then she hit me. You can still find the scar. It's down my left arm, and near my elbow.

"Madeline!" Her words were dripping in poison as she pushed my arm hard against the broken glasses. "Get the FUCK away from me. You can't do shit for me. I'm screwed enough as it is."

I didn't leave. I didn't cry either. I just sat down next to her on the dirty tiles. She sobbed and sobbed. Inside my head, I thought how disgusting it must sound. The pain lingering within a sound. It was disgusting. I was surprised day by day. That's what she was, a literal decorated surprise. I would find needles hidden in her bedroom, and later in the day the tracks it left.

I don't think I could have left when she told me too.

I brought a bucket and cleaned the things she had broken. When she became angry, she ended up destroying everything she could reach. I cleaned for hours at a time. When she was sober, for maybe just 3 hours for a day. She looked at the mess she had made, and turned away.

I looked at her and smiled. Charlotte was confused from across the table when my fingers tried to reach for the Marlboro. I held the lighter in between my fingers and a cigarette in the other. "Madeline! What the hell do you think you're doing!" Charlotte's expression completely changed to a state of pure distress. She swiped away the fragments in my hands and shoved them deep into her pocket. I smirked and looked toward the horizon.
I heard the noise of her feet shuffling. Even the thump of the objects hitting the trashcan. I tried to hide a smile and suppress the laughers in my chest. "Seriously, what the hell, don't you ever!" She whispered hoarsely as she disposed her cigarettes.

It's funny how the tainted don't let the clean touch the tainted. I felt the wind pick up, and carry the nicotine into some other place. "If I wake up with cancer, I'm blaming you." I shrugged.

"Well darling. I do believe were dead."My eyes widened as the flashes of blue and red appeared. I heard Charlotte pick up her feet and gather our belongings. I cursed under my breath. Sirens and the sounds of radio waves. Fuck justice.

I felt the wings spread to another miscalculated escape.
I wonder if what we're fighting for isn't what fuels our lives.