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... He wanted to know my name, and the wounds on my arms ached like starlit kisses. I covered them, a little to fast because he saw the blood on my fingers and quickly gazed toward my eyes. I’m always nervous, so my words cracked worse than a boy's when his voice starts to change. "Nadine," I managed. He smiled with his jawbone but he was focused on the thing weighing me down. I sat up straighter, he took the seat next to me. “Hi, my name’s Jarrett,” he stuck out his right hand to meet mine and I wanted to whisper, “I know.” His pants had a pen mark on them and I started to trace it. He swallowed hard, and I listened to him breathe. Not faster, but deeper. My ink was blue marigold, and he moved in his seat so I could write, better. Lines started to turn into words, and he closed his eyes only thinking a single pure thought, “is this magic?” I stopped, because I saw another girl creeping into his eyelids and my blood spilled a little on his lap. Jealously gnawed my stomach, and I muttered, “I… I have to go.” His eyes shot open and he looked down. My fluid mixed with pen marks mapping out a story about us I made up off the top of my head. I stood up, and Andrew was behind me twisting my arm just right so my palms were upright. He slide 5 red pills into them and said slowly, “meet me outside,” letting his hands linger down the small of my back. I stutter, my eyeliner already running in harsh, jagged streams. I want to scream, but Jarrett’s still looking at me more confused than I could ever be. “What’s wrong? “ he starts, but I don’t give him enough time to finish. My legs are pounding down the row of sickening silver lockers and I stop because I’m choking on myself. The walls seem to be chanting, “her choking charm, her choking charm...” this morning I remember my father called me cute, I start to panic. I fall to the floor like an idiot on wheels, and the pills scatter like rabbits trying to escape my hideous glare. Somewhere in a classroom window a boy shouts my name, I think it’s him but blood loss, pills and embarrassment are taking me under. I blink, and my eyes shut, only I know I’m alive because I feel myself breathing.

A million hours later I’m in the parking lot with Jarrett’s arms around my waist. I suck in my stomach; I don’t want him to feel me. He’s humming, and I want to listen but I’m shaking so hard I croak, “ow.” He stumbles, but I can tell he knows what he’s doing so he regains his balance almost immediately, brushing my hair from my eyes. “You took a hard fall,” he says with a half smile that flutters my insides. What I wrote is still on his pant legs, and I slap at it partly before I gasp, “ow” again. He laughs, and I notice the phrase I wrote and all of a sudden I hate myself. “I love you,” it says in scrawny handwriting. What was I thinking? He sat me up on the back of his car, and slowly he handed me Andrew’s pills shyly saying, “ I think these are for you?” I can’t take them, I feel so abused and he drops them on the cement crushing the red dye with his foot. “Want me to take you home,” he asks, talking more to the ground and pebbles than to me. Fathers home, and he reads my heart breaking across my lips. I feel him around my waist one more time, and he helps me inside the car.

“You’re staying at my house,” his lips are clamped tight and I realize his grip on the steering wheel is a little too tight. Without thinking I put my hand on his knee and squeeze, my face pointed toward the window. He stops moving and with one hand comes down to stroke mine. I’m confused, but this time it’s nice.

He opens the door and offers me a hand. I was afraid to take it so I shook my head and glided past him to his own doorstep. I say glided, but in reality I was staggering, looking like a drunken girl attempting to stand on the street corner for a little extra money. I could feel his body heat 16 inches from my shoulder, and I waited for him to do something like throw me into a wall and watch how bad I bruised. Instead he placed his fingers around the chrome doorknob. Inside it stunk of roses, I heard soft music coming from an upstairs bedroom and he said quieter than the music, “come here.” It was dark now, the outside wind piercing me just seconds before. I squinted and he held out his arms. The next 5 minutes of my life I collapsed, it didn’t matter who I was, anymore. I didn’t care. And I didn’t even care that he made my knees break. He kissed the top of my head, running his hands down my back, different than Andrew lingering for his cock to be driven inside me. “You remind me of poetry,” he whispered, and he said it like the world was only made of us. I cried, and the tears felt like cocaine. I wanted more, whimpers turned into sobs that eventually shattered. I whiped my eyes and stared at him, I was crumbling and I still couldn’t explain how I felt. Because I knew, that he was being a friend. And he didn’t outline the stars with our names like I did…


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Comments

The following comments are for "he wanted to know my name"
by HerChokingCharm

beautiful
I thought this was a beautiful story...made me cry. There are a few spelling errors and grammer issues, but I didn't really even notice. I love the words you used for this story. Wonderful.

( Posted by: Darkshine Raven [Member] On: October 20, 2003 )

Again
With the wowness. I really love your writings, they are so moving. Rarely does a piece of writing like that touch me so deeply--good job.

( Posted by: Virtex [Member] On: October 20, 2003 )





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