Gasoline

{(Disclaimer, I wrote the following story, based off of the lyrics from the song "Gasonline"-Halsey. I do not take credit for the song that inspired me, just the story that I wrote.)}

Gasoline.

Sitting on the subway bus, she sits holding her head down. Her hair is long blonde and wavy with dark roots about 3 inches from the scalp. Her head rests a large earphone headset. Her skin is pale. Her eyes are sunken in with dark circles around them. She's beautiful, but she cannot see it. She's beautiful but no one else can see it. She holds her head down low, as she sketches in a notebook. While sketching, she held a cigarette in her left hand showing off the black fingerless gloves. She lifts her head up and swallows up the smoke. She smiles with an insane grin as she puts the cigarette out in the empty metal chair next to her, and then puts her head back down. She is listening to her favorite music on full blast, but she can still feel everyone staring. She can still hear what everyone is thinking. They whisper about her, every single day. "She's too pretty to be smoking" they would whisper. No one understands the life she lives. No one knows what she has been through. Everyone always judges before they know. It's her stop now. She can still feel all the stares, she can still imagine the whispers. She slowly picks up her book bag, her long wavy hair cascades down over it perfectly as she walks off the train.

She walks down the alley way about an hour before dark. Rats and spiders crawl hurriedly by her feet. Disgusted she pulls her hoodie up from the front to cover her mouth. She pulls it up a little more as she walks further down the alley where is smells like death. Her small efficiency apartment is in the middle of the alley way, which is infested with roaches. She sighs, as she walks in. She went inside, dead bolted the door 3 times. Just in time before the drug head came creeping around the corner.

She threw her backpack on the futon, along with the headphones she had still been listening to the whole walk home. She trudged to the bathroom, pulled her buckle up boots off by the bathroom door. She stood still in front of the cracked medicine cabinet mirror. Her lips red as a cherry without lipstick shined bright with the clear lip gloss. Her pale face shown a tinge of red in the cheeks as they warmed her face while her ocean blue eyes welled up with a tear. She smiled and half laughed as she refused to cry. Her perfectly white teeth shone bright. The red tint faded from her face quickly as she wiped away the tears and spread the dark black mascara and eye shadow off her face. She absolutely refused to cry. She told herself a second time.
She slipped her hoodie off, and hung it on the wall hook next to the mirror, revealing the sideways scars. She laughed as she traced her fingers across them. She did it for entertainment more then anything. At least that is what she told herself.

A brown lake warm bath, and a half hour later, she was dressed a simple tank-tee and camo pajama pants and in the kitchen. Fucking brown water. She had grabbed the 100 dollar bottle of champagne, took one swig, got pissed off because this is not the life she wanted for herself so she poured the mother fucker down the drain all for it to leak out all over the floor from the leaky pipes that she had forgotten about. She picked up the 60.00 water bill off of the sink and grimaced as she thought about the piece of shit landlord that would not fix the damn pipes. She took the water bill and dried the stain as she just laughed. At this point in her life, laughter was the only thing keeping her from insanity.
She knew she would do better. She had to do better she said as she smiled and rubbed her stomach. The only reason she was in this shit-hole was because of one mistake. One mistake she made with a guy and a one night stand at a nearby Motel 8. Everyone made rumors that she was a whore. But she was just an innocent girl looking for some hope in something. Someone, or something better then the shitty life at home. She met a guy, she liked him. The scene was hot. She thought he could be more then just a friend. Mother fucker never called back. About one month later, her shitty drug-heads for parents kicked her out. How can any one ever kick their own daughter out? No one with a heart could.
That's okay. She did not know it yet, but one day those 2 pink lines will be well more than worth all of what she is going through right now. Those 2 pink lines will be what saves her life.