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Against your better judgement you decide to close your eyes and crawl down into the deep pit that is your mind, unearthing memories that were locked away by your subconscious.
You’re brought back to a cold evening. It was a few weeks after your mom’s injury, she was caught in an explosion when a gas tanker was hit by a stray bullet but luckily she only lost half her face, and your dad had you come up to live with him temporarily while she recovered. You two had gotten into an argument- originally he pitched the idea of you living with him in sector seven which was valid considering the recent circumstances. But it quickly turned from a conversation about your safety to conversation about your future and how if you lived with him there’d be so many opportunities to get your face out there. You just as quickly, yelled at him and ran off. You ended up in a park- at the top of this large hill- and sat on a lone bench. There was a light rainfall going on at the time and you could feel the damp residue press against your thighs as you sat on the wooden planks. The stinging sensation in your eyes just won’t go away and you keep wiping tears as they start to roll your face and snot before it pours down into your mouth. You open up the fanny pack strung across your torso and pull out the only things that could help with your mood right now. A lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Leaning forward you lift one of the cigarettes out of its box with your teeth and your thumb strikes the lighter. Again. And again. <span class="mu-s">FUCK!</span> A flame just won’t start. All you get is brief sparks but that doesn’t stop you, you keep flicking your thumb down until you end up dropping the thing in your fit of desperation. You throw your head back and close your eyes, every muscle in your face clenching in a desperate attempt to stop more tears breaking through. <span class="mu-i">Click.</span> There’s a quick metallic sound, followed by the signature sound of burning. It causes your eyes to shoot open and you see a lighter being held to the end of your cigarette. You let out a puff and turn to your right to face its owner.
It’s a dark-skinned woman with long black hair that goes down to her lower back. Golden accessories cover her body from piercings to necklaces and rings. Along with a unique surgical mask covering the lower half of her face. She flicks her wrist snapping the cover of her golden zippo light shut before putting it back into a black handbag on her lap. The way she moves oozes with style but when still she looks perfectly feminine. Almost like a statue handcrafted with beauty in mind.
