Crime Of Passion

"Don't," she giggled as she pulled her sketchpad away from me, "I'm not done with it yet." She held it over her face, hiding her fantastic art from me. I rolled my eyes, trying to fight off a smile. Man, she made me a mess. A better mess than I was, though. "Just let me see," I whined. She just shook her head, returning the sketchpad to her lap.

Every Friday we would meet in the park and draw together. It would always be quiet, but having the company really helped boost my creativity level. She would draw different things; flowers, stars, animals. She was very open about showing me her art. Me, on the other hand, was too preoccupied with drawing her. She would sometimes ask to look, but once I said no she didn't pester me about it.

"Would you just tell me what you've been drawing?"

I pouted. She lightly smacked my arm with her free hand. "You'll find out when it's done," she argued. I watched her as she chewed on the end of her pencil. This is the second Friday she's been secretive about this. "You're no fun," I said as I looked down at my drawing. It was a picture of how she looked the past few Fridays. Relaxed, in her own world. I think I watched her more than I actually sketched. She would constantly bite on her lips and tap her pencil on her knee.. It was beautiful.

"Says the one who covers up his artwork all the time," she spoke as I picked at my thumb nail. I glanced up at her once more, pursing my lips. Her eyes were squinted as she hunched down, face inches away from the paper. Her hair, like always, was sticking up all over the place. Her bangs hid her eyes while the rest of her locks cascaded over her shoulders and sat above her collarbone. I wanted so bad to brush the stray strands out of her face, to tell her how gorgeous she looked right now.

She finally looked up, meeting my gaze. A soft smile crept on her lips as she closed up her sketchbook. "Why aren't you drawing?" she tapped my closed sketchpad. She had this cute smirk stuck on her face, it made the urge to kiss her harder to fight off. "I'm too distracted," I sighed. Her eyebrows pulled together while she played with her hands. "I'm guessing you're always distracted since you barely draw when we come here," her chose her words carefully. She was right, I rarely did draw when I was with her.

Art was this thing I couldn't share with people. It was too hard to let go and create when I was around someone, I felt as though they would criticize my work. Yes, I would sketch her sometimes, but it didn't come close to what I could do alone. "There's too much on my mind," I tried to sound honest. "Tell me," she crossed her legs, "What's got you so distracted?" I sighed again, mentally conflicted. Should I tell her? I didn't want the confusion that came with flirting..

"Well," I cleared my throat, "I'm not used to being surrounded by all these beautiful things; I'm sort of overwhelmed." Hopefully she knows that she's one of them. Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink, but her eyes never wavered from mine. "Why don't you use some of these lovely things as inspiration?" she raised an eyebrow. I already have, I thought.Her words made me blush, and I didn't know why. She grinned, knowing that she got to me.

"I'll think about it," I lied. She just rolled her eyes, stuffing her sketchbook in her bag. I furrowed my brows as I watched her pack up. What was she doing? "Wait," I grabbed her wrist, "Are you leaving?" She put her bag down and laughed. "I have to work," she pushed a chunk of hair behind her ear. Since when did she work? "I didn't know you had a job," I said as I let go of her tiny wrist. She nodded, her hands running through her hair.

"I work at the bar down the street," she pointed behind her, "I don't make much but it's enough to get by. My brother doesn't let me stay with him for free." She giggled again. I had this feeling I couldn't explain welding up in my chest. Panic? Probably. I used to go there for drinks all the time, actually, my brother had to pick me up from there many times because I was that wasted. "Ah," I nodded, dismissing the topic. Hopefully she wasn't working when I went there last..

"Now that you know where I work you can stop by and say hi anytime you want," she patted my knee. She was so sweet.. I adored her. Why did she constantly want to be around me? I was a psychotic freaking mess with no chance of having a real life, and she refused to see it. She's glued to my side in classes we have together, she always replies to my texts and never leaves me hanging. She was so blind, and I was too selfish to help her see.

"Don't you get tired of seeing my face?"

She let her hand linger on my knee, her tiny fingers draped over it. "No," she shook her head, "Not at all." I could hear the mass amount of truth she put in her words. We just sat there for a moment, bathing in silence. It wasn't awkward, no, it was.. Comfortable. I didn't have to reply, to be honest I didn't have the words to. She finally got up, snatching up her bag before grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet.

She reached up and pulled me into one of her brief, but amazing hugs. I savored it, closing my eyes and holding her as close as I could. "Goodbye," she chirped in my ear, pulling herself out of my grasp. She then waved before turning on her heel and jogging towards the parking lot. I watched her make her way to her car and get in, driving out and leaving me standing alone in front of the bench. Our bench.
***



Sleeping was one of the hardest things to do. I couldn't shut my mind off, everything was going a mile a minute. I was constantly worried about getting caught, about my family finding out about the murders.. There was no escaping that fear, it clung to my chest every minute of the day. I squeezed my eyes shut and tapped my fingers on my stomach, feeling nauseous.

It was so hard to fight off the urge to hurt myself. I was self destructing before my very eyes, but I was too lazy to do anything about it. I kept drinking, taking pills.. killing. It was like for every crime I committed, the deeper I sunk into hell. I wanted to die so badly, to leave my mistakes behind so I could meet eternal peace. But, I was a coward. I had a gun pressed to my head at all times, but I was too chicken to pull the trigger. I huffed, turning over in my bed.

I needed to find a healthier distraction. Something that I could benefit from, something that would make me happy. I knew the thing I needed, the drug I wanted to start using. Her name was Elly. Maybe she was my way out of this mess.. Maybe she could fix me. She was the only glimpse of hope I had; like the light at the end of a very dark and twisted tunnel.

Notes

Another short and sweet chapter. Please give me some feedback, is this story too boring? I don't know what to think of it, If I like it or not. Just let me know in the comments below. Anyway, hope you enjoy this update. If you're interested I have the introduction of a new story up, too! Check it out if you want. If there's any errors in this chapter message me and/or comment. Feedback helps! Thanks for the support, guys! :)
X,
Pixie