untitled # 160

[lou2]

she's wearing this.

As she lay on the ground, one arm extended towards the distant sounds of children playing, screaming really, obnoxious and energetic not twenty feet away, she considered the fact that the entire world was made up of interachangable pieces. If she were to die right now, someone would come along behind her and take her place immediately, a spare part, waiting in the wings to be the public's new self-destructive toy, skinny and aching and bruised in all the wrong places wearing shorts that cost more than some cars and crying to herself in the woods by a playground about a father that would never love her. Ari was on her way, or at least Lena was banking on the fact that she would be, though the other girl didn't deserve the treatment she got, and Lena doubted her loyalty if only because she'd never before been subjected to an instance in which someone could love her for her, and not for the dollar sign twinkling in her eyes or the fact that she was worth more than the majority of the Sapphire Bay put together. She could buy the town, buy the people, buy herself friends and drugs and whatever else she wanted but it would never fill the hole inside of herself, or pull down the sleeves on her overly expensive t-shirt to reveal the burning holes in the bends of her elbows where she'd shot up her happiness. There was a pile of stinking clothes in the garage that she stripped out of when she felt like it, parading around naked, leaving pieces of herself behind while she danced under the false illumination of the kitchen lights, alone in a mansion, forever tied to the parts of her brother she could see in the masculine woodwork and underlit bar, in the corner, where he would make his nightcap and fall asleep forever in the comfort of her arms. He had loved her, once. She'd exhausted his love with a tireless passion for destruction, and eventually she would do the same to Ari, the poor girl, who expected nothing of her inner emptiness save the discontent that surfaced occasionally and split fine hairs at the end of her perfect head. Lena was nothing if she was not a swirl of incomprehensible emotions and anxiety, balled into a pretty package with a bow on top for whoever would promise her their love for twenty minutes, or an eternity.

It was cold where she was, but she could hardly be fucked to readjust herself, and the dim recollection that she'd woken up here, in the woods behind the playground, her shorts bunched up to her waist and her shoes pulling tightly on her feet, surfaced vaguely along with a preconceived notion that it had been more than two days since the last time she had something to eat that wasn't a carrot or a cocktail. Unsure of the time or the day, she lifted a hand to scratch her hairline and frowned when it came back into her line of vision, crusted blood shoved deep under her fingernails into the quick. She looked away momentarily, feigning illness to hide from the unpleasant truth evident in the bodily fluids leaked about her and dug the same hand into the pockets of her shorts, searching for something to ease the dull ache in her bones, the hollow pain that forced her to tears and maddened even the sanest of individuals, and Lena was not sane. Pushing herself up so she was resting on her palms, she closed her eyes against the harsh slant of light through the trees and located a lighter to ignite the cigarette pressed haphazardly between her swollen lips. She was sure she looked like a monster, but it wouldn't be the last time she crawled out of a forbidden place wearing expensive clothes and twenty layers of foundation to cover the bruising under her eyes. She had no idea what happened the nights previous, and frankly, she didn't want to know. It had been days since her last cohesive memory, she was sure.

Struggling to her feet, she trudged through the playground, cigarette in her mouth, eyes squinted against the brightness of the outside world, her shirt hanging off of her shoulders like she was a hanger. Unclean, unsafe; she was a walking hazardous waste product and the world was her garbage can. Sitting down on the curb outside of the playground, she cradled her head in her hands and bent her knees so that she'd have a place to safely rest her eyes without the perpetration of the sun, her cigarette still burning, her phone in her lap, waiting for the call that would tow her away to safety.

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[ariadne]

Puts on her best smile

But underneath she's a broken girl

THANKFULLY FOR HER, CALIFORNIA SELDOM GOT REALLY COLD. WHEN SHE'D LIVED IN LOS ANGELES, SHE SWORE SUMMER NEVER ENDED IN THAT TOASTER OVEN OF A CITY, AND NOW THAT SHE LIVED FARTHER NORTH, SHE WAS STILL CONVINCED WINTER NEVER HAPPENED IN CALIFORNIA. MAYBE IT WOULD LOOK TOO BAD FOR THE STATE'S TOURISM IF IT EVER GOT TRULY COLD. SHE DIDN'T KNOW, AND SHE DIDN'T SPEND A WHOLE LOT OF TIME THINKING ABOUT IT. IN TRUTH, THE ONLY GOOD THING ABOUT CALIFORNIA NEVER HAVING A COLD SEASON WAS THAT A PERSON IN HER LINE OF WORK - DANCER AT A BURLESQUE CLUB AND PART-TIME PROSTITUTE - DIDN'T HAVE TO HAVE TWO SEPARATE WARDROBES. MOST OF HER CLOTHES COULD BARELY BE TERMED AS SUCH, AND SHE DIDN'T HAVE A WHOLE LOT OF MONEY TO THROW AROUND ON HER CLOTHING LINE. SO, SHE WAS THANKFUL HER CLOTHES COULD HAVE MULTIPLE LIVES IN MULTIPLE LINES OF WORK. RIGHT NOW, SHE WAS BUSY BEING A FRIEND.

LENA HAD CALLED HER WITH THAT TONE IN HER VOICE SHE ALWAYS GOT WHEN SHE WAS SHOT UP. ARIADNE KNEW THAT TONE ANYWHERE, EVEN IF LENA DENIED IT, SINCE SHE'D HEARD IT IN HER BROTHER'S VOICE TOO MANY TIMES TO NUMBER. SOMETIMES, SHE THOUGHT LENA WOULD HAVE LIKED HUNTER EVEN IF THEY HAD BEEN ON DIFFERENT ENDS OF THE SOCIAL SPECTRUM. HE HAD BEEN CHARMING AND MAGNETIC: TWO THINGS SHE WAS NOT. BUT ALL OF THAT HAD CHANGED WHEN HE'D GOTTEN INTO DRUGS. DRUG DEALING WAS QUICK CASH, AND HUNTER HAD BEEN ONE OF THE UP AND COMERS. THEN HE'D CROSSED THE WRONG PEOPLE, AND THAT HAD GOTTEN HIM KILLED. SHUTTING HER EYES AGAINST THE PAIN THAT WAS STILL FRESH EVEN A YEAR LATER, SHE STRAIGHTENED HER HAT ON HER HEAD EVEN THOUGH IT DIDN'T NEED STRAIGHTENING AND TRUDGED ON DOWN THE STREET.

PER LENA'S USUAL STYLE, SHE'D CHOSEN ONE OF THE PRESTIGIOUS AREAS IN TOWN TO GET HIGH AND PASS OUT IN. SHE WAS A RICH KID AFTER ALL, EVEN IF SHE LIVED A LIFE VERY MUCHLY ON THE EDGE. SHE COULDN'T GET OUT OF THE COMFORT ZONE ALTHOUGH SHE OFTEN TRIED. ARI KNEW HOW THAT WAS, HENCE THE REASON SHE WAS STILL STUCK LIVING VIRTUALLY ON THE STREETS WHEN SHE SHOULD BE DOING MORE WITH HERSELF. AS THE SLENDER BLOND ENTERED THE PARK, SHE KEPT TO THE OUTER FRINGES, STAYING OUT OF SIGHT OF THE RICH MOTHERS WITH THEIR NANNIES AND THEIR CHILDREN AND THE BUSINESS MEN PRETENDING TO ENJOY THE GREAT OUTDOORS WHILE ACTUALLY DOING BUSINESS ON THEIR EXPENSIVE CELLPHONES. ALTHOUGH SHE COULD SEE THE IRONIES AND HYPOCRASIES IN OTHERS, ARI IGNORED THEM. SHE DIDN'T WORRY ABOUT THE WORLD. SHE DIDN'T HAVE A SAVIOUR COMPLEX. ALL SHE COULD WORRY ABOUT WAS HERSELF, AND THERE WAS PLENTY THERE TO WORRY ABOUT. BUT, SEEING AS HOW BROKEN AND HOPELESS SHE WAS, SHE'D FOUND ANOTHER TO WORRY ABOUT.

IN MANY WAYS, LENA TOOK THE PLACE OF HER DECEASED BROTHER, AND ARI FELT A STRANGE URGE TO PROTECT THIS GIRL. THEY'D BECOME FRIENDS IN THE STRANGEST OF WAYS, BUT ARIADNE DIDN'T QUESTION THE WAY THE WORLD PLAYED ITS CARDS. PERHAPS FATE HAD MEANT FOR LENA TO MEET HER, FOR SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY CARED TO COME INTO THE RICH GIRL'S LIFE. THE TWO WERE THE PENULTIMATE 'PRINCE AND THE PAUPER', AND THEY WERE BOTH EQUALLY BROKEN, IF IN DIFFERENT WAYS. ARIADNE'S LIFE HAD BEEN SPENT RUNNING FROM THE SOCIAL SYSTEM AND SLEEPING WITH PAYING CUSTOMERS TO EARN A LIVING SINCE SHE WAS TOO YOUNG TO DO SO LEGALLY, AND LENA HAD GROWN UP AT SOCIAL EVENTS AND PARTIES ARI COULD ONLY DREAM OF BUT SHE WAS A DRUG ADDICT AND A BITCH. ARIADNE WAS THE ONLY PERSON WHO REALLY CARED ABOUT HER. AND, AS IT WAS, ARI WAS NOT THE TYPE OF PERSON TO CARE WHEN LENA BROKE HER HEART. SHE'D SEEN THE BEHAVIOR IN HER BROTHER, AND SHE'D KNOWN THE WHOLE TIME THAT HE LOVED HER. MAYBE LENA WASN'T HER SISTER, BUT INWARDLY, THAT WAS HOW ARIADNE SAW HER, AND SHE FELT AN OBLIGATION TO PROVE NEITHER OF THEM WAS WORTHLESS.

HOWEVER, HER LACK OF A SAVIOUR COMPLEX OFTEN SHOWED ITSELF. INSTEAD OF TAKING ACTION TO GET HER FRIEND OUT OF THE HORRIBLE HABITS SHE'D DEVELOPED, ARI MERELY STOOD BY HER SIDE, COAXING HER THROUGH HER DRUGGED OUT BENDERS UNTIL SHE COULD STAND ON HER OWN AGAIN, AND TOOK THE ABUSE IN THE MEANTIME. SHE DIDN'T CARE. SHE CONTINUALLY SAW THE MAGIC IN OTHER PEOPLE EVEN IF SHE, HERSELF, WAS TOO FAR GONE. MAYBE THAT WAS WHY SHE WAS SO ATTRACTED TO THE BEAUTIFULLY SCARRED MAN SHE'D MET IN THE STREETS A WEEK BEFORE. SHE DIDN'T KNOW, AND SHE DIDN'T FEEL SMART ENOUGH TO EXAMINE IT. SHE JUST KNEW HE WAS DIFFERENT. SHE'D HAVE TO THINK ABOUT IT LATER.

ENTERING THE TREES ON THE FAR SIDE OF THE PARK, SHE CAUGHT A WHIFF OF CIGARETTE SMOKE AND FOLLOWED IT. SURE ENOUGH, HER SENSES REWARDED HER AS SHE SAW HER FRIEND'S BACK ABOUT TWENTY FEET FROM THE EDGE OF THE TREES. THE IMAGE WAS SO SYMBOLIC TO WHAT ARI KNEW OF LENA'S LIFE - ON THE EDGES OF BOTH WORLDS AND NEVER REALLY PART OF EITHER - THAT SHE WAS SURPRISED SHE'D THOUGHT OF SUCH A THING. USUALLY SHE WASN'T SO INTROSPECTIVE, OR AT LEAST SHE DIDN'T INTENTIONALLY TRY TO BE. SHRUGGING OFF THE THOUGHT, SHE EASED HERSELF DOWN ON THE DIRT AT LENA'S SIDE AND LOOKED OUT INTO THE PARK WHERE THE CHILDREN WERE PLAYING NOISILY ON A JUNGLE GYM TOO FAR AWAY TO SEE THE YOUNG WOMEN IN THE SHADOWS BENEATH THE TREES.

ALTHOUGH SHE ALWAYS KNEW WHAT TO SAY TO A MAN WHO NEEDED A COMPANION FOR THE NIGHT, ARI RARELY KNEW WHAT TO SAY TO HER OWN FRIEND. GRANTED, LENA'S MOOD COULD SHIFT SO RAPIDLY, ESPECIALLY WHEN SHE WAS HIGH OR DRUGGED OUT, THAT A NICE COMMENT COULD INSTANTLY TURN UGLY IN HER FRIEND'S EARS. SO ARI TYPICALLY REMAINED RELATIVELY SILENT AND PASSIVE, AS ALWAYS. THAT WAS HER WAY: NO INTERFERENCE, NO FOUL. DRAWING HER KNEES UP TO HER CHEST, SHE VENTURED A LOOK AT THE OTHER YOUNG WOMAN'S FACE. SHE WAS USED TO THE BEATEN UP DRUGGY LOOK, BUT THAT DIDN'T MEAN SHE LIKED IT. PLENTY OF GIRLS IN HER LINE OF WORK LOOKED JUST LIKE LENA DID RIGHT NOW WHEN THEY GOT OFF OF AN ASSIGNMENT. ARIADNE HAD CHOSEN NEVER TO DO DRUGS AFTER WHAT SHE'D SEEN HER BROTHER GO THROUGH, PLUS SHE DIDN'T LIKE NOT BEING IN CONTROL OF HERSELF, SO SHE REALLY DIDN'T KNOW WHAT LENA WAS FEELING. SHE ONLY KNEW THAT DEEP DOWN THE OTHER GIRL COULDN'T POSSIBLY BE HAPPY WITH HERSELF.

"WAS IT FIFTH AVENUE OR LAS VEGAS THIS TIME?" SHE ASKED. IN HER WORLD, NICKNAMES WERE EVERYTHING SO THE COPS COULDN'T FIGURE OUT WHAT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT. 'FIFTH AVENUE' MEANT A HIGHER END DRUG USUALLY RECEIVED FROM THE MORE REPUTABLE DRUG DEALERS AND THEIR CONSORTS, WHEREAS 'LAS VEGAS' WAS THE LOWER CLASS, MORE DANGEROUS TYPE. SURE, IT WAS A CREATIVE WAY OF REFERRING TO DRUGS, BUT IT WAS THE BEST SYSTEM HER TYPE HAD. THEY WEREN'T A TERRIBLY CREATIVE LOT AT TIMES. REACHING OUT A HAND, SHE GENTLY TOOK LENA'S EMACIATED HAND IN HER OWN AND SILENTLY HELD IT. SHE DIDN'T CARE IF LENA GOT MAD AT HER AND YELLED AT HER FOR BEING THERE. SHE WAS USED TO IT. ALL SHE WANTED WAS FOR HER FRIEND TO BE BETTER, TO BE STRONG AGAIN, EVEN IF THAT MEANT THEY WOULDN'T BE FRIENDS ANYMORE SINCE THEY CAME FROM TWO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT WORLDS.

*--- LENA *--- CLOTHES *--- SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!

_{TEMPLATE BY ROYALSTANDARD.}

[lou2]

she's wearing this.

There was something perversely charming about the call girl associate of Lena's that had initially intrigued her. She was petite and youthful and dainty but simultaneously world weary; her fingers were slender with continuous work and her hair wild about her innocent features. Here was a girl corrupted by years of standing to the wayside and her friend, Lena, the girl who had every opportunity in the world to turn her life around and yet who continued to remain endlessly subduing herself with a cocktail of drugs rivaled only by those who had recently died. Here was a girl who had been molded by her environment from a beginning with much promise to an end with none, and here was her alternately affable and psychotic counterpart who had the means to mold her own world and chose to let it shape the being, or transient state of being, that she ultimately become. Here were two girls, side by side, sitting together to prove they were truly one, for where is the difference in a variation of zero? Where did one end and the other begin in a pile of tangled limbs and invisible distinctions? It is these peculiar thoughts that urge Lena to numb the periphery of her conscious with the only means she knows, and it is these that lure her from the depths of her reverie to settle anxiously on the question asked by her blonde friend. She is dimly aware that her hand is being held in the confines of Ari's warm palm, and she lifts her head from the base of a weak, bruised throat where it had previously been hanging to feebly glance in her direction as she addresses her, voice cracking, fingernails crusted with blood and whatever else. “I don't know,” she says earnestly, because she doesn't know. Lena is nothing if not intentionally forgetful.

Bringing the cigarette from her lips to flick the cigarette ashes to the ground, she settles it haphazardly between her lush lips once more before adjusting herself so she slumps against Ari, holding her hand, her thumb twitching, her head pillowed against the hard bones of her shoulder. She can smell the perversion in the girl and she can smell the pheromones and she can smell the sound of the children playing off in the distance, her nose acutely aware of the lack of cocaine being ingested currently and the distinctly odiferous quality of the air that surrounds the playground. It smells like shit and sweat and the combination would make her throw up if there was anything left in her stomach except for the dismal remains of what had started out as dinner days ago. She likes the park because it offers anonymity and she can sit here, bordering offense, smoking her cigarettes without people recognizing her as the failed Alexiou girl, until someone does. She can watch the kids and she can see which ones are like her, abysmally empty on the inside, frightfully scarce in terms of emotions and anxiety. She exhales a cloud of smoke. “Probably both.” she acknowledges, finally, and turns so she is no longer leaning on Ari but instead facing her.

She was beautiful, angelic almost, in contrast to Lena's dark, sullen features. Where Lena's brow split in the middle with moroseness and aggravation, Ari had only laugh lines around the corners of her mouth. Where Lena's features were crowded with mascara and eyeliner from any time ago, Ari's was clear and perfect. Comfortable. She was presumably comfortable in her own skin. If only Lena could remove the same and maintain a distracted, disinterested ambivalence. If only she could do it without the pharmaceutical aid she had become so accustomed to. Stubbing out her cigarette under her shoe, grinding it into the ground with a force unnecessary for the task, she pushed herself to a shaky standing position and held out her hand for Ari as though she could absolve her of her sins. “I need to take a shower,” she says, absent-minded, somewhere else, lusting after the bottle of codeine pills sitting her cabinet as though they held the answer to the world. A shower could wait. A shower could never happen again for all she cared as long as the outside world spun inward and drew her in with it.

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