sinsix

Christina had folded herself over, falling asleep against an old basket full of spider webs and breath taking moths that danced in a terrifying way up to the ceiling, only to struggle against it. They flapped their gray and white and silver wings against it as though they were trying to reach the moon and the sun and the jeweled stars. Bennett was still on the stair case with his temple resting against the leaning staircase, his eyelids shut tightly. Locks hung from each of his eyelashes, and in vain, Sin wished she could reach out and outline his lips and eyes with her fingertips. She didn�t love him or want him like other boys. She simply felt something different about him. Something that she had never felt before. It was negative in a positive way, but at the same time it was positively negative.
Sin was curled up against the washing machine again and had wrapped her jacket around her body. There was no sign of Lance yet, nor was there any crying. Gold faery dust winked at her from under her fingernails and she quietly bit at each finger tip, letting her teeth scratch into her skin.
She wanted to run away from this place. She wanted to run away from the basement and the house and the garden in the front where the small rock path was; run past waterfalls and glowing orbs and cresent moons that made her mouth water with hatred and longing; run farther than the bones under her flesh could take her, slipping outside of her body and running down through the ground until she reached the clouds.
She promised herself that one day she would cup their cotton silk in her palms and mold it into a castle. She would live there and dream there. There would be palm trees and chinese lanterns and dragons with diamonds on their claws. There would be devils with heart shaped lips that bled from the cold, but they would dance anyway. They�d twirl their bodies and curve their features until they were gods.
The voices in the corners of her mind whispered things to her over and over. They wanted peace and war and blood. Their breathes wreaked of poverty and cheap cigarettes and withered lilacs. They stretched over her ears like black feathered cups and soothed her with the most beautiful lullabies anyone could sing. They told stories of mermaids that fell in love with princes and maidens that fell in love with lillies, or maidens that turned into lillies and never withered, but became more blossomed and surreal. They told stories of horses that could talk and goblins that entered ice caccoons and became butterflies.
As she slept, she dreamed of a single red rose with baby eyes and sugar skin that was so soft it felt like velvet. The rose stood between two towering cities, directly on the path between the two. One city was of riches and royal knights and princesses that cried tears more valuable than saphires. The city was warm and it had gold plated streets with large mansions that smelt of mangos and peaches.
The other city had a swirling black shadow over it, haloing a tall tower that stood in the center. Trees grew in absurd places, with reaching roots that curled their fingers across bones and giant wasps and spiders. Each window was fogged with a vampire�s breath, bloody and screaming until the window shattered. Evil Queens slept beside their mirrors and dungeons of zombies. They made love with the Witches of the North, with their long silver black hair to their ankles and their eyelashes that were electric darkness.
In the single tower with vines creeping in through the cracked window, there lived a boy. His wrists were heated with black blisters and his fingernails were stubs. He sat at the window and drank blue wine that slithered down over his bottom lip as he swallowed. Each breath he ate took away Sin�s. She stirred in her sleep, the wound on her thumb reopening and dripping its life into the fur of her jacket. His eyes were bronze and green, rusted with purple specks of super novas.
She visioned herself, lying on the mattress in the tower, naked and glistening with sweat. She climbed to her feet and walked behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her body pressed against his and he grinned. He let go of his bottle of wine and let it crash down into the street below. He turned around and wrapped an arm around her, holding her forcefully against him. His lips were pillowed and slept against hers as they kissed.
The boy pushed her back against the mattress and reached over to the night stand, picking up a handful sewing needles from a cracked, golden bowl. He climbed over Sin, and she did not squirm or move, but watched his eyes and his lips and his perfection. The first three needles were pushed through her lips, the cold metal stinging her blood. Soon he pushed more into her arms and her abdomen, watching with sex caked eyes as the poisoned blood cascaded down her body. He leaned over and kissed her coldly, sucking against the needles so they would tear more at her flesh.
Then, he reached between her legs and grinned to himself. Sin lie back, watching the cracks in the ceiling drip rain onto her forehead and down her nose. She was his cell where he imprisoned himself. But somehow, she was chained and he was free, having swallowed the keys and licked her body. She didn�t mind though. To feel his dangling touch and cold skin against hers, she would do anything.
The rose between the two cities lost one petal at a time, driven with a disease so perverse that the dreams of children and wishing stars could not save it. The pins were never removed from Sin after she was dead. He simply poured blue wine over her sparkling breasts and legs, then discarded her, throwing her out the window and watching her shatter against the street below.
The vampires slipped out through window panes of hell houses and curled their tongues over her toes like the monsters had done when she was little. Screaming, she collapsed, her bones folding inward and her brain feeding off of itself in a wicked cannabalic impulse.
Sin sat up, back in the basement where Christina sat smoking a cigarette and staring into the basket that seemed to produce the spiderwebs and moths. She pulled her bleeding thumb into her mouth and quietly sucked the beads of copper under her tongue. Bennett was busy trying to break the bars that guarded the windows.
She crawled across the room to Christina and rested her head on her lap, happy that the lullaby had ended and her dream had stopped. The other female slowly ran her fingers over Sin�s scalp, brushing through each strand of hair. The smoke that puffed from her lips smelled like candy smoke imported from some unknown country in the far east.
Soon, each of the three stopped breathing and looked toward the passage that lead to the separate part of the tunnels beneath the house. Sin rubbed her knuckles against Christina�s legs, since they felt so cold they could break like her bones did against the street. In the doorway stood Lance and a young girl. The girl had thin lips and high cheek bones that crowned her green, opium sketched eyes. She nervously tugged the sleeves on her jacket down and peeked out from behind him.
Lance glanced over at Sin, cursing under his breath as he walked over to where Bennett was. He wrapped each set of fingers around two bars and grunted loudly.
�Fuck.�
Bennett looked at him, then walked back over to the steps and sat down, holding his head. The girl sat down infront of Christina and pursed her lips together. Something about the way she looked gave off a holy vibe. She tucked her hair behind her ears and looked at the other two girls. Her eyes were faded and dimmed, like they had gone out years before and never been able to light again. She had platinum hair like Marilyn and lips that were ruby and magical without the frosty lipstick. Her eyelashes were long and curled as though they were fake and her eyeliner matched her Hollywood pumps that snuggled to her feet.
She was the child of waiting nine months to breathe. Her petite body was clad in a pair of tight jeans that were torn at the knees and a shirt, conveniently showing off her navel, that read �STAR� in glitter letters, along with a black zip-up hoodie. Christina gagged on her cigarette smoke and coughed, covering her mouth with her hand as she did.
Sin pushed herself upright and straightened out her hair, feeling slightly plain and ugly sitting near her.
She extended her hand to the girl, �Hi, I�m Sin.�
�I�m Aletta,� she said and shook her hand, raising an eyebrow upward at hearing her name.
Christina quietly said her name, then flicked ash off the end of her cigarette, smiling smuggly at the newer girl. She reached up and pushed her hair behind her ear as she mumbled under her breath. The girl, who was more like a star or a butterfly or an angel, reclined into a horizontal position on the ground and closed her eyes, letting out a deep sigh.
Sin climbed to her feet and walked over to Bennett and Lance. She grinned a little and leaned against the wall, flicking her eyelashes in a flirting manner.
�Remember me?� she shot at Lance.
He grimaced and turned his back to her, while beginning to look through boxes that were piled on an old ping pong table. Dust fluttered through the air like dirt creatures, winged and floating. She fanned her hand infront of her face to keep it away from her lungs and failed, coughing a few times. Her eyes watched him for a moment, then gunting, she gave in and grabbed a box. Slinging it to the down, she sat infront of it and began looking through it.
�What exactly are we looking for?�
�Something to help us get the hell out of here,� he paused for a moment, �Or atleast something to help us survive.�
Sin pulled out piles and piles of old magazines and clothing articles that had holes and were stained. She lifted a shirt up under her nose and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes to shut out everything but the smell. It smelt like life. Life that was flowing through everyone at every moment in time, unless they had become deceased. The copper stain on it made the cloth brittle feeling, cracked and distorted in a way. She swallowed and tossed it aside, continuing to pry through various objects.
Finally, at the bottom of the box, there were five candles. They appeared old, but had never been used before. Sin clutched three in one hand and two in the other and stumbled over to the washing machine, laying them down across the top of its rusty surface. She walked back to Lance and stood behind him, making sure to brush her body against his, and looked at the things he had found.
Old broken china plates, champaigne glasses, entirely too old cans of vegetables, and towels. She grabbed a champaigne glass and set it on the machine, next to the candles. She grabbed one of the short, fat wax sticks and placed it in the glass. Christina climbed to her feet and leaned over the washing machine to the candle, using her lighter to bring the wick to life.
Sin could see the rainbow in her eyes when she lit it. They glazed over with pearls and crystal spectrums that were more ornate than the look of love. The ends of her lips curved upward slightly and she glanced into Sin�s eyes. It was like a gasp fluttered between them, though neither girl moved nor spoke. It was there, though, and understood.
She understood the way Chris had felt when she lit the match in her apartment, the way she had hesitated, watching the flames curl under his toes and along his lower torso and up to his lips. Those lips that could take away someone�s breath with a simple touch. She felt the glass surface that she had accidentally broken, sending her lover spiralling into a world where she could no longer touch him or his lips. Her body could touch him in the physical world, but he didn�t exist in her mind anymore. Her fantasy was over, as was her desire.
They both watched the flame quiver and sway slightly, then become stable and tower toward the ceiling.
�The tip of the flame is its end, Sin baby,� she said and took a long drag from her cigarette, carefully letting the smoke filter back out of her lungs, �But it�s the flame�s most intense area. He was my flame, but I couldn�t control him. The end of him was too intense, I� I got out of control.�
Sin stared at her for a while. She reached over and grabbed the cigarette from between her lips. Puzzled, Christina stopped looking off into her past and watched her. She pressed the lit end against her wrist, flincing as it sizzled against the skin. A hand jumped out and held back the wrist the cigarette was against.
Someone was behind her, binding her other arm back behind her body. Her muscles tensed and twisted. She had become swollen and red and sweaty. Her eyes glanced quickly from person to person, each face mirroring things she didn�t want to see. Their eyes were like exploding stars, their jagged pieces of reflections cutting through her neck and breasts.
The cigarette crashed against the floor, falling from between her fingers and she struggled. She wanted to crawl into the basket where the white spectrum moths lived and lick her wounds and scars. She started screaming, her head thrashing from side to side as each purple-black vein in her neck stuck out, ready to burst.
�Your swords of cotton candy,
Have tripple pierced your heart.
The waves of stone are sandy,
And have tore your mind apart,� it cooed into her veins, viciously clawing into her tunnels.
Sin opened her mouth again, barely parting her lips, and let out a sob. Her muscles began convolsing. Fingers and arms and hands dug through her layer of bruised skin and through her bones. Splintering eyes watched her, weaving a snake of venom of disturbance before her.
�The raven does not wander,
But lies in this very grave.
Though your tears are blander,
There are those you can not save.�
She saw Christina infront of her, fingers and wrists and ankles shaking like they did when she smoked her cigarettes. She placed her hands on her cheeks and kisses her softly, �Calm down, Sin. Take deep breaths.�
�His wingless angel is already late,
Her time too far past yours.
You can only wonder why they wait,
Devouring what lures.�
There was something hard on her back and her feet no longer found ground. Sin stopped breathing and floated, sliding into the burn in her wrist.