Open Question: So how do you like my story?

The smell of freshly mown grass.
The wind in her hair, cooling the sweat on her neck.
The number fourteen behind her best friend, staring her in the face.
Her pink flip-flops barely matching her white shirt and dyed hair.
Cause what angel wears pink?
Joe Brooks’ smooth voice flows into her ears as she softly sings.
Behind her two “twinkies” splash water at each other.
In front of her some fifth grader smacks his head on the seat, laughing like a “retard on cocaine.”
She puts her pen in her mouth, smiles at her bestie, and switches the song to The Friday Night Boys.
Four seats back a fellow sophomore talks to the new kid, from Virginia, about his brother’s homecoming.
Her hair continues to blow in the wind, coming through the bus windows.
“You look like an Angel.”
Her best friend’s red hair clashes with her brilliant-blonde dyed hair so much.
As do they, themselves.
But they’re best friends, non-the-less.
They have been since third grade.
She used to be like her bestie, one-upon-a-time.
But then she hit a wrong crowd, and almost completely ruined her life.
“You look like an Angel.”
His voice rings through her ears, like crack in an addicts veigns.
He was her addiction, after all.
“You look like an Angel.”
The one and only time he ever told her that made her heart thump faster than a hummingbird’s.
The song switches to ‘For Miles Around’ by People on Planes.
It fit the moment perfectly.
Her thoughts, at least.
“No one but you, for miles around.”

Three hours later she was piling pills in her hand.
One for depression. Two for the pain. One for bipolar. Two for her heart. And one for the insomnia.
She stared at her fore-arm.
Her left fore-arm.
It started this whole thing.
Her stupid arm.
She’d cut it off if she could.
If it wasn’t for her left arm, she wouldn’t have gotten addicted to mutilating herself.
She wouldn’t have been dragged to the hospital, and gotten two prescriptions for medication.
One for depression. One for bipolar.
Then they made her do a physical, which revealed her heart condition.
Another prescription for her heart.
And when her body started attacking itself from being untreated for so long;
Another prescription for the pain.
She didn’t doubt they’d put her on another medication that did absolutely nothing, sooner or later.
She’d hardly cared about the insomnia medication; she’d been on it for so long now.
At the age of 15 her life was already ruined.
“No sports. No extraneous activities for 3 hours after you’ve taken your medication. No more concerts, they’ll make your heart worse and may unregulate your sleep. And certainly no more illegal drugs.”
She never did illegal drugs. She’d tried marijuana, but there wasn’t anything for her there.
It was all a part of her “image”. The image they gave her.
The image he fought with all his life against.
Until he left.
With only six states between them, you’d imagine he’d visit once in a while.
At least for holidays.
Or at least call for her, not her brother.
But things never work out the way you imagine.
She’s learned that.
“You look like an Angel.”
It was a fire drill when he said it.
They were in music appreciation.
The only class they had together, besides lunch.
It was an unusually nice day for it being October.
The sun seemed to shine right on her.
She was wearing a white shirt.
The only one she owned without stains from cleaning in it.
She had on black pants, tight. The tightest she’d ever owned.
Her hair was pure blonde on the top, with dark black underneath.
“You look like an Angel.”
Her heart beat wildly.
Which caused her chest pains.
But she ignored them, hoping they were from nerves instead of her heart.
This is what he did to her.
He’d be the death of her without knowing it.
But I guess they’d be perfect together.
Considering his heart condition, as well.
“You look like an Angel.”
A black and white one, she’d guessed.
The first and only black and white angel she’d ever heard of.
But she’d take the compliment.
“You look like an Angel.”
Her chest hurt horribly.
But she’d live.
She hoped.
She was in love.
A heart’s death couldn’t stop the love in the air.
The body would retain it for all of eternity.
As would the memory.

I wrote it about a year ago, so it’s not as fantastic as the writing i’ve had lately.
So how did you like it?

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