Three years ago I had sat on this seat eating a Dagwood dog and a milkshake as mum used the bathroom to freshen up. I was in a different world now though.. a hard, cold new world, but one that still included the promise of refreshments and Dagwood dogs overseen by the worlds largest prairie dog. oh how this put things into perspective for me.
Glad to be off the bus I breathed in the air. it was fresh and cleaner than the smog and dust we had been breathing the last few days. I thought it would clear my head. I thought it would revitalise my will to survive and give me an empowering energy to breathe in a freshness and exhale all the negative aura of the trauma surrounding us. I was, of course, wrong.
mum
hunger
the earth shaking
Aarons still body
the self inflicted bruise on my head from the metal bars on the bus
Varks turbulent support
the peanuts
the peaches we never found
an ever grumbling stomach
the warmth of a hug
cracks in my heart
Patrick's control
cracks in my nails
Fred's control
cracks in my skin
Nelsons control
my total lack of control
My knees hit the gravel with a puncturing thud, I filled my fists with gravel and threw handful after handful of stone at the giant statue. screaming at it for our plight, screaming at the sky for our demise. Tears filled my eyes as the words of hatred filled my mouth. the stones hit the dog with small dings like a coins being dropped on the deck of a fibreglass boat. Patrick cautiously approaches me with a stern face and raised opened palms.
" Skye! HEY! Skye come on we just pulled up here to relax, there is no use for that wasted energy here.."
"F**k you Patrick! F**k that bus and F**k Colorado! lead me not to my death Pat, I can do that myself! "
I stand and turn on my heels, the horizon beckons my soul and my feet try to run, but with the energy of a dishcloth its more like a disabled canter. Patrick's hand grabs my elbow and with a firm grip turn my crying eyes to meet his stable gaze. how dare he be so calm. how DARE he be so in control! doesn't he know there is no hope!!
I pull back my head and straighten my body, with rushed rage and hopeless retort I smash my forehead into Patrick's nose. a head butt to his ego, but I doubt that it hurt him that much, so with my free arm I start to scratch at his arms and neck until he pushes me back onto the gravel, staring at me like a pathetic symbol of weakness. he stalks away. and I sit with my face burning and my lungs feeling like they have been extracted of all breathing privileges.
I don't know how long I have been sitting here, the dirt is making its new home inside the pores of my skin and I can hear the others making noise behind me. I hear the crunching of gravel behind me.. someone is approaching.
I feel the cool press of metal on my neck, just below my hair line. its a can of drink and its pushed hard into my skin, not offensive like, playful. a voice whispers in my ear
"thought you might need some sugar after that outburst"
The cola is then offered to me from some one now kneeling behind me , I reach up and take it, and the arm folds around me rests on my shoulders and collar bone with the thumb from that hand softly and soothingly stroking my neck. Long legs fold beside me as a comforting presence soothes my static mind. I know I needn't say a word as a look into Varks tired face and offer her an apologetic smile.
She offers one back.
Hey, it might be ok after all...
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We'll never be as young as we are right now
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