Ms Erica Smith

Here's Erica Smith's entry:

Untitled

Rain water dripped off my sleeves and down my fingers, but instead of steady streams, their paths were erratic from the vibration. The cold December air could not explain my tremors once we were inside. I had to clench all four keys inside my palm to keep them quiet.

I looked Alex in the face, but only so that he would know to expect it as I tossed him the keys to the apartment. For the split second that he met my glance, I could see the suspicion scrawled across the crease of his brow. It was worth the gamble.
The familiar smells of home only added to my guilt. I had invited him into this world, he put roots down here. The weight of my suit case seemed to slip away on it's own, but I never heard it hit the floor. Maybe it was floating there, just beneath my fingers. Without a particular destination left, my body was frozen, my hands weren't even shaking.

The secret I kept from him gripped my throat with both hands and the truth filled my mouth like the urge to vomit. After three years of feeding the lie I was finally choking on it.
"What's wrong?"
My lies tightened around my neck and the words pushed against my lips. I wasn't sure, but it felt like I might actually puke. I shook my head.
For the first time, the warmth of his fingers weaving between mine didn't comfort me, instead my eyes began to burn with salt water. I wish he wouldn't touch me. I was like poison. I should've been quarantined.

"Okay, you're starting to freak me out a little,” the humor in his voice was transparent.

I closed my eyes. It was coming.

“Seriously, what's going on?"
When he kissed my forehead it was like he gave me the Heimlich maneuver, "I lied."
"What?"
“I don't want to get married.”
“Yeah, I figured that out when you said no.” He looked at me like I was crazy.

I felt crazy. “I never want to get married.” The words spewed through my clenched teeth.

Alex's head jerked back. He didn't drop my hand, but he looked straight through me. The truth was out, but I still felt like I was going to hurl.

His eyes flickered back to mine, narrowed, “So, our age wasn't. . . .”
“Never.” The word burned like it was written in acid across my tongue.

He dropped my hand. My insides went with it. I was hollow. He stepped back, face fixed on the floor. I changed my mind, I wanted him to touch me, I wanted him to look at me. Too late. And now that I needed it, I couldn't find my voice.
I could hardly see him through the tears.

He stepped back again, taking his duffel bag, "I need to think."

My lungs filled with air as I crumpled to the floor. I was alone. "Come back! I'm sorry!" I mouthed silently into my hands.
Pain crushed my body into the floor boards. Too much. Way too much emotion.

Before I knew it, my oldest habit took my hand and led me to the kitchen. I stared at the clear glass bottle buried in the back of the freezer. The label was frosted over, but I knew the proof and the brand by the shape of the bottle.
I unscrewed the cap and slid down to the floor. It went down like ice, but it left a low burn behind. The heat spread through my veins within minutes. It was so comforting to know that soon I wouldn't remember why I was drinking.

I was going to need more than this little bottle. I reached into my pocket and flipped open my cell. I was going to need a driver too.