hanzzarate

From Butterfly to Caterpillar
Current mood: accomplished

I look back on the days I had spend pacing slowly, back and forth in the half furnised living room that I occupied. I relentlessly pndered on the hours and second of when YOU would finally leave your persistent heartache. HE had not name or real face to me, but I knew he had something I obsessed and craved...YOU. It ravaged and saturated me with disappointment to know that he was your immediate calling.
Just having those long confessing conversations with you distracted and hypnotized me in thought. I would simply be tranced by your timely motions, your permeating green eyes, and that trademark guile smirk that your face would cast when you felt doubtful. However, while you would speak, the only sounds I could hear was the anguishe of my skin and bones asking you to myself was "what the fuck is that asshole worth?"
I knew you loved him, or at least obsessed over him no matter how bad he treated you. Maybe that's why I never stop inquiring abou how you felt? I knew it was always something between between the two of you, but I would have done anything for you. I just savored for you to speak evils of him, because I wanted you to hate him as much as me. Every negative slur out of your soft lips about him was simply me closer to you.
I relished in all your passion against him, and embraced it as my own as I did you; it was our connection.
I still linger on the memory, or the morning before another redundant day of school. I was still inchoherent from drinking and smoking weed with friends from the night before. I staggered to my P.E. class slowly but surely.
It was mid February and my birthday was still reminiscing in my mind. The drinking and loud obnoxious behavior was all I really remembered in 1997, much like the years before that.
I remember walking through the back, cold, foggy ally of the back of the Sav-On pharmacy. All I could do was keep my cold, clammy hands in my pocket as I still had about two more miles before class would start. I kept my head down staring at the damp pavement with my pull over hooded sweater covering my head from the tormenting cold morning. The pack of Marlboro Reds even felt damp and cold in my front pocket.
As I kept walking the laborious path, I saw a small body nestled by the back door of the pet shop that occupied the same shopping center of the Sav-On drug store...It was you. Your head was anchored in your lap covered by your pink hooded sweater. Your body was slack against the wall, almost as if dead, but the faint whimpers and sobs are what disclosed otherwise.
Yes, the first thing that came to my mind was HIM..."I am sure he caused this." I thought, quickly bringing my mood back to being judgmental and curt. As I motioned closer to her and asked her in a presumable tone "Let me guess, it was him again? Right?!" I projected a hint of sarcasm in commanding demeanor.
She simply raised her gracious head that was nestled between her legs, and looked at me with weakness and a broken sends of being. At that moment nothing more needed to be said. I felt immediate impact that the situation was not like any she had encountered before. She immediately started to sob and burst out in a loud cry before her head found its way back into her lap. My feeling of arrogance and judgmental behavior quicly started to subside. Not even the feeling of the cold mourning air derailed me from her anguish and what seemed to me...A burning sadness. I quickly felt a surging remorse and quicly found my way next to her tiny, shivering body. I simply sat next to her, caressing her back and neck, while I casually stroked her dark black hair. I quickly asked with a somber tone "Are you okay?" A bit of a rhetorical question, but I just wanted and answer, but just a loss for words was found. I proceeded to gesture my body with a real concern for her.
"He died..." she replied in a frail tone...She simply stressed the two words that broke her in two. "HE'S DEAD..." she accounced once more, as if she was confirming it to herself. She was convincing herself that the situation was real, along with me. My faced slowly opened much like a spring flower, yet I was quickly flooded with the numbness only felt by guilt and dead cause.
"I'm sorry..." was all my lifps could spill, but the truth was that I wasn't. I quickly thought back on all the harm HE caused her, all the anguish HE laid on me with out even knowing it.
He put her though hell, and because of him I was a victim of my own grim reaper everytime I watched her cry, day by day. I really did not care how he died, but it was debt owed to her and to the others who suffered from his inconsideration.
I slowly motioned for her to go home; after all I was not all that forward to heading to class, let alone wearing tight black P.E. shorts at 7a.m.
I knew her mother was not home, or even had any idea of wat was going on. Her mother was single and worked tow jobs to keep the rend and her daughter lavished in nice clothing. One job she had was for the City of Los Angeles, and the other was filing papers for immigration. So I knew she had a busy day ahead of her on a Tuesday moning. Plus her ex-husband livied in Indiana. He only showed up during Christmas and Thanksgiving so that he would not appear like the asshole that he was. Plus he had a new wife and two step children he cared for.
As I proceeded to stand her up she appeared as distressed as a hurt rodent. She quivered and motioned that she needed guidance to make it home, so I obliged. I nestled her next to my left shoulder as she proceeded to hook her arm underneath mine. I slowly paced myself while she slightly staggered in her footsteps. The fortunate part was that she only lived approx. two blocks away and only block away from my home. She lived in the brown and white apartments adjacent to the Sav-On shopping center where I previously walked through.
After a silent thread thread to her home she quickly scurried to her bed for comfort. Landing face first into her light green sheets, burying her mascara run frown into her matching bed pillows. I still stood poised by her leather taupe couch, which was surrounded by a brown worn coffee talbe and a chimney that appeared as cold as the feeling of the house itself.
Pictureds of her facther adorned the rail of the white chimney. Almost confessing what she truly sesired...a father, or even a real family.
I was fascinated by the reality of her troubles , because they went beyond the death of what her boyfriend; revealing who she truly was. I quickly noticed the faint sound of my name being called from the room she occupied. She must have called it before, but I had no awareness of it at all, I simply responded to the loudest cry she had sent. I was captivated by the curiosity of everthing in sight which clouded my attention.
"Hanz...!" she cried in a desperate plea, wating for me to answer.
I did not anwer; I casually make my way towards her bedroom, while still feeling the vindication, and sadness smolder inside of my being.
I slowly poised myself near the end of her bed, clos to the bottom end of her feet. I sat quietly, feeling a silent tension flux through my bones. The house was warm which quickly brought me back to a stressful sweat which occupied my body when I first saw HER. The feeling I contained was simply to lie next to her and comfort her from her own fears, but really, I wanted to be the shoulder she cried on...I waited for this.
With no hesitation I quickly drew back myself to her face, proceeding to lay down facing her. She was helpless; a bird with broken wings was what suited her best... I fearfully reaced over with my right hand and combed her back, the flair from her face exposed her red, and tear damped face. "I am sorry..." she proclaimed regretfully.
A guilt on somthing possed her to answer with no reason, she was scared of what was about to happen.
She sas scared of being alone, and I myself was torn between opportunity, selfishness, and genuine concern. In seconds an advantage for a dark possibility took me over so I advanced on her weakness and kissed her. She never contested, but rather surrendered to uncertainty and what appeared to be curiosity of what was to come.
I quicky took even more form in my desire and slowly worked my, now warm clammy hands from her hair down her pink "Etnies" logo exposed sweater. Slowly caressing her firm small diamond expsed nipples from underneath.
I, with surpise, advaced as she did making my way down to her tight blue jeans. She caressed the back of my head almost waiting for me so she can dive me down to her treasure. It was all orchestrated as a sonata and as me as the lead. I worked my warm hands, anxious lips as a plague consuming every cell of her body.
In a second I freeze realizing my own ploy of taking her as I always wanted her, but my passion, and need take over like a bulldozer mussing dirt; I could not stop.
The fire was high, and her ecstasy was procounced in her expression and her need to fill the void which bled her for so long. that was she had felt was not for me buy rather the empty body my heart did not pound in passion in trembled in despair.
I motioned myself quietly to her door. Slowly raising my corduroy pants and leaving me red sweater underneight her body to keep her comfort; I felt expelled from the situaiton, and event that consumed us both.
I left her presence in silence, aiding my conscious back to a plane that was really who I was...A man who roams by himself.
I had spend the rest of the evening laying in my tattered bed realizing that there had been more than one death in the halo of really was and what I become and was to encounter with myself. Never wanting to see her face again with my own eyes, but casting the gaze of what was to haunt me years to come.

Hanz The King of Pirates