I lived my life in a train stations watching the people go by. I never got on; I had nowhere to go, too scared that I might find a place to feel whole. Then I would walk home and let the flower wall paper walls swallow me whole.
Some days I drew the people, or took their pictures. Most days I just wrote about them. Every move or expression told a story. Each one had a happy ending. I used to wonder if anyone ever wrote stories about me with the same sickeningly sweet endings. Only then I realized I have no story but, words and pictures and sketches that made the whole world, the people around me. I was air.
I was not air, or words, or pictures, or sketches in-between the flower wall paper walls. I was not the world around me, the people around me. I was useless matter, pure nothingness. I had no meaning, no definition. Cold and bitter. Between the flower wall paper walls I did not cry, laugh or bleed. Between those walls my own skin strangled me and my limbs turned to doll parts. Eyes of glass, so blank and dead to the world around them. They saw nothing, knew nothing or the war going on. Painted lips and plastic lungs. A plastic heart that beat to a hollow rhythm of screams.
But with each day I stepped through the bright red door and escaped the prison walls, my doll parts came to life. They turned to flesh painted golden with oil paints and sun. The water that ran through my veins turned to wine. Blood.
Flesh and blood. Paint and wine. Words, pictures, sketches. Air.
******
“Buffy are you okay?”
Her head shot up, a look of confusion washing over her face, “Huh?”
“You’re all spacey today,” Willow shrugged.
Buffy sighed and adjusted her bag that was slung over her bare shoulder, “I know, I’m sorry. I dunno what my problem is lately Wills. I just feel like…”
“Hey ladies,” Xander interrupted brightly, making his entrance. He put one arm around Buffy and the other around Willow before the three resumed walking, “How are my girls today?”
Buffy scrunched her face up and waved a hand at him, “Bleh.”
“Bleh? What’s so bleh?”
“Angel problems?” Willow asked cautiously, avoiding eye contact with her friend.
Buffy stopped walking at her locker, turning to her friends and letting out a deep breath, “No... it’s like…as soon as I figure out what my problem is, I’ll be the first to inform you.”
Xander and Willow both gave her concerned looks before nodding in unison. With a weak smile, Buffy turned to her locker and waited for them to walk away. When they were both out of sight, she looked around once more before starting down the hall to an exit.
It was just one of those days when your own skin felt like it was strangling you and there was no more air left in the world.
******
“Hey B.”
Buffy cringed, stopping dead in her tracts and turned slowly to face the source of the voice, “Hey Faith.”
She’d almost had a clean escape. She’d been out of the school and out of the gates. So close to freedom but so far.
“Being all rebellious and such today,” Faith said mockingly, “Shouldn’t all the little girls be in school at this time.”
Letting out a deep sigh, Buffy wrapped her arms around her midsection and replied, “Yes, they should but…I just needed some air.”
Faith smirked, “Fuck air B, what you need is a good dose of hard liquor.”
Buffy rolled her eyes, “Alcohol and Buffy are non-mixy. Sorry.”
“Oh you’re no fun,” Faith laughed lightly, putting one arm around. They walked like that for a minute in silence before Faith spoke up again, “What are you doing tonight?”
“Wills, Xander and me were just going to rent some movies and veg out I suppose.” Faith could only bring trouble. Buffy wasn’t stupid. She’d tried once to befriend the girl but it was safe to say that they weren’t functioning at the same speed.
Faith made a face, “Pfft, how boring can you get?” She paused to pull away and turn to look at Buffy, “You should come with me tonight. There’s going to be a basement party tonight and I know of someone who would kill to have you be there.”
“I can’t just…”
“Yes you can,” Faith cut her off, “It’s time for you to have a little dirty, filthy fun in your life.”
“I’m more of a clean cut girl,” Buffy bit her bottom lip, “And I can’t just abandon my friends.”
Faith let out an aggravated sigh and threw her hands up in the air, “Fine. If you wanna sit on your ass all night watching some lame movie with your lame little friends then go for it. If not then…” She trailed off as she reached into her back pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. She handed it to Buffy, flashing her a quick smirk, “Then be there.”
“I can’t just…”
But Faith had already gotten into a parked car and started to drive away.
Buffy sighed and looked at the slightly dirty, crumpled, folded piece of paper in her hand. It was an obnoxious orange color and looked as though someone had spilled some liquid all over it. Running her finger tips over the top the edge, she unfolded it slowly.
It said the time and the place in bold letters before promising free booze, a live band, and a hook up. In the bottom corner was a crude drawing of a stick figure passed out on the floor holding what was supposed to be a can saying BEER across it. She couldn’t help but smile a little at the flyer.
Wasn’t this what her teenage years were supposed to be about? In all those years, had she simply been doing it wrong? Either she was lost in shallow, paper thin world of cheerleading and lip gloss or leading an extremely safe existence.
What was right? What was wrong? Was there a right to begin with? Would going and having “dirty filthy” fun accomplish anything but leave her feeling emptier than to begin with?
She looked down at the flyer again and frowned.
Was this it?
She’d just have to figure that out firsthand.
Author's Chapter Notes:
feeback pretty please?