Sick Romance

A familiar odour enticing the scent sensors.

Peaking through the narrow slit of the doorway.

Contemplation to if she is alone, or not as she thought... she has company.

Thoughts almost escape the clear mind as fear winds and dines on her reality.

Leaving a bitter 16, all natural beside the pink coloured, thick cotton, encapsulating her most female being.

In shock, her bare feet hidden between the hairy strands of a woolly rug, naturally responding to her natural instinct to contract, the toes grasp on, holding her comb in both hands as if its keeping her together.

The weather emphasising a dramatic scene, with the temperature spine chilling...no lightning but a cool summers rain.

If only she was outside, the tears would hide the little bit of pride she had.

Luckily, as she noticed, a ringtone that she knew as a young one, her uncles, he was walking the corridor.

Relieved, letting the stale oxygen she'd been holding in pounded chest, her heart eases, she relaxes.

Looks away, fixing her hair, the mirror shows.

Black beanie, dark shades, a blood curling smirk beneath her uncles old fashion moustache.

Black leather gloves grasping onto her wet skin...friction wasn't on her side as she was...man handled.

A white cloth racing to her mouth, catching her about to take a breath, tasting the material, the pungent fumes accompanying it were just too much...

Its all a blur after that.