Warped

Silence. That was the next best thing to seeing her, my love. Cherie Thompson was the goddess that answered my prayers without knowing it. She was the one who made the choices on how my life would turn out; how I would feel; who I would love. She tortured me, tempted me and betrayed me, yet she was not aware of this. Nor was she aware that I was watching. Always.
~*~
Her room was empty; that worried me. It was one of the few times where I didn’t know where she was, who she was with, but it gave me yet another opportunity. The poplar tree sat swaying in the breeze outside her bedroom window, her open bedroom window. I raised myself from my perch upon a sturdy branch, slowly shuffling to the edge; to her life. I grasped the branch with one hand, the shutters with the other as I lowered myself on to the window sill. The familiarity of her room surrounded me, the gray walls and mahogany bed, the yellow sheets and white teddy bear. It was all so vivid in my memory, despite the lapsed time since my last visit. I made my way over to her vanity, looking at the pictures of her. I perused through the various shots of her with her friends, past boyfriends and family. My eyes stopped on my favourite picture, the black and white shot of her and her mother sitting on the beach, the waves crashing behind them. They used to be so close. I had always wondered what had happened, but had never had the chance to get close enough to find out. Tonight was my chance though. I had never had a long enough opportunity to search through her things thoroughly, only grazing the surface of her life. I tore my eyes away from the picture, unsure of how much time I had. I opened the first drawer in her vanity, finding it to be full of several bottles. Pill bottles. All of them had her name on the prescription, but I didn’t understand. She was perfect. Why would she need medication? I felt terrible all of a sudden. My darling had a problem and I couldn’t help her. I closed the drawer, trying to push the guilt into the back of my mind. It worked, for now. I opened the next drawer. It was full of makeup, products she didn’t need. If anything, they masked her true beauty. They were of no interest to me, so I moved on to the next drawer. In this drawer I found several things that shocked me. I found a joint, a lighter, a needle and a small vial of coke. She did not need these things. They would hide her true emotions, trap them. She would never be able to express her true feelings for me if they were locked up in a cage of substances. I took the vial, joint and needle, pushing them deep into my pocket. I couldn’t bear to open any more of the drawers, disappointed with what I had already found. I moved on to her closet, hoping to find her diary; her secrets. Her clothes were neatly organized, separated by color and type. I grazed the fabric with my hands, releasing her unique scent. I searched the shelves, looking for anything that could help me. I found Shakespeare, Hemingway and various other authors resting upon her shelves. They were in alphabetical order. Cherie loved order. It was one of the many things that I loved about her; she left no room for weakness and lying. Every moment those prevailed, was another one we lost the battle of love. I reached up to the top shelf, sure to find something there. Sure enough, I found three journals. I opened the one that appeared to be the oldest. Her past intrigues me and I would go crazy if I did not know.
Mom and I went to the beach today. Dad went into town for “business.” I wonder when he’ll actually figure out that I know he’s trying to hide from mom. He never eats dinner with us anymore. He doesn’t even go out for ice cream with me on Sundays now. I wish he was dead. I wish he would stop lying to us.
I was flummoxed. I thought she had issues with her mother? How is it that she was writing about her father? I flipped through the pages, finding nothing but doodles and complaints about her father. He must have been a terrible person. I opened one of the other diaries and read the first page.
I cannot believe Rhiannon actually came to my party tonight. At least we won’t have to worry about her coming around anymore. Jonathan and I had sex for the first time tonight. If it was up to him we would’ve waited, but it’s been a month and a half already. I am not going to wait forever, especially not for him. He has no idea how lucky he is to have me when I could have any guy that I want. He’ll just have to find out the hard way.
The date was for three years ago; we were fourteen. That couldn’t be right; she would never do something like that! She was so innocent; there was no way that she would every pressure someone in to doing something they wouldn’t want to do in the first place. I heard the door downstairs open. I put the last journal away, hoping she would not notice the others missing. As I made my way over to her window I dug an envelope out of my pocket, laying it next to her teddy bear, the one she loved so dearly.
~*~
I lay in my bed reading all her memories, imagining that I had been there for everything that happened, good or bad. I was about half way through the first journal when an envelope fell out. It said Cherie on the front in cursive; my cursive. I opened the envelope, trying to recall what was held within. The paper slid out through the rough edges that she had tore open.
The ocean is held within your eyes,
I am drowning in your soul.
I want you to save me,
To know who I am.
Everything is made to be broken,
But you can fix me,
You have fixed me.
I remembered writing it. It was about a week after I had met her, after I fell in love with her. I knew then that I had to make her part of my life. It was five years ago and I was ashamed to think that after all this time, I had yet to make her mine. I turned out the lights and drifted off into a restless sleep, clutching her memories in my hands and mind.
~*~
The citrus smell of her hair was overpowering. There was no way that I could focus with her sitting this close to me, within arm’s reach. I wondered if she had read my poem, if she liked it. I wondered if it made her smile or made her cry. I did not think though, that it might scare her. I could not scare her. That was not a possibility.
~*~
I watched her at her lockers, laughing with her friends. I longed to be over there, the one making her laugh. The sound of her laugh, it was the most contagious and powerful thing that I had ever experienced. The first time I heard her laugh, it felt as if my heart had jumped into my throat, blocking all incoming oxygen and letting nothing escape.
~*~
She was walking out the doors, looking back over her shoulders to look at the people amongst her. For a moment, I pretended it was me that she was looking back at. I knew I wasn’t the one she was looking at—at least not yet. I was just a part of the crowd to her and nothing more. If only she knew how much she meant to me. I slowly followed her out the doors into the sunlight. The auburn in her hair reflected the light, forming a halo of perfection above her head. I always knew the halo was there, but now it was there for everyone to see.
~*~
Cherie was standing in front of the mirror, like every Friday night before. For the past hour I had watch her put on and shed about half her wardrobe. Why, I did not know. She looked radiant in anything. She had finally settled on a white dress, which made her look like an angel. If only that angel was mine. I shook the thought from my head knowing that she would one day be mine. As she left her room I made my way to my car. I waited for her to leave, looping around the block to meet her on the main road. I didn’t want to make her think she was being followed.
~*~
The party was out of control by the time we got there, but the people faded away as long as she was there. I watched her from the far wall as she made her way over to her friends, stopping at the keg. I would not drink. I might lose track of her if I let my senses become even slightly warped. My heart stopped as she threw her head back, letting out a rumbling laugh. I saw her hand her friend an envelope. My envelope. She was smiling; that must be a good sign. A meaty football player suddenly came up to her. Every muscle in my body locked as she turned around and kissed him. I felt rage bubbling inside of me as she led him upstairs, leaving both her beer and my poem on the table. Her friends departed, finding interest in a game of quarters in the dining room. I rushed over grabbing the poem, it being my only hope of calming down. I unfolded it, waiting to read my feelings in so many words.
You rush over me,
Your scent like a breeze.
My heart stops when I feel you,
Whenever I hear you.
Your laugh is contagious
A sickness of its own,
Infecting everyone in the room.
Put me in quarantine,
As long as you are contaminated too.
They meant nothing to her. They were just words from a stranger, someone she wouldn`t waste a breath on. To think she had been my life, my soul and my heart for the past five years. I crumpled up the paper, making my way outside and throwing it in the fire that was raging, not unlike my anger. I got in my car, rushing back to her house. I parked around the side and went to wait by the tree, with a baseball bat in hand. She would come around this way to get back in. I had witnessed the same routine for the past two years, as if it had been my own.
~*~
I waited for the next six hours and forty-three minutes. The silence that I used to love surrounded me. I loathed the silence; I loathed Cherie. I finally heard her car pulling up. I gathered myself as I hear her stumbling steps making it around the corner. As her figure came into view, I said my first and last words to Cherie. “I’m sorry.”