We Will Never Be Perfect II

“Sometimes, I know you don’t love me,” he says with white-washed teeth and a insincere smile as he stands in the doorway. He scoots and weaves past half-dead bodies to get to her, their palms gently cradling thin layers of white powder and burnt spoons. Death has been woven into the weakening floorboards; with every step he takes, invisible particles of pain are kicked up and inhaled by the hopeless lungs around him.

“You aren't always faithful yourself, Daniel,” she says, her fingers rusted over the end of her in-disguise joint. She pressed her knees against her chest, elongating the distance between them. “Just ask your wife about Cheryl or Lauren.”

He stopped mid-step, foot dangling over bruised arms and vanquished eyes,  "They were a mistake."

"Coming here isn't?" she jeered, eying him as he managed to navigate the labyrinth of affliction and place himself soundly before her. She watched as he averted her askew gaze then plant himself in front of her dilapidated chair.

"What are they giving you this time?"

"Never could see straight anywa-ways," she stuttered hesitantly, words surging together ever so slightly.

“You know, that’s bad for you,” he bent over her, hands locked on the falling apart arms of her chair, so he could see the tear-stains in her eyes and the crows feet gently scratching at the corners of her features.

“Since when have you ever cared?” she scoffed, while blowing a fresh cloud of smoke in his face.

Coughing, he took a step backwards, his eyes begging for that little girl he once knew, “I’ve always cared, you just never wanted me to.”

“Shut up,” the young bones of her hands advanced against his chest in an effort to push him away but all he could feel was the brittle sound of her staggering breaths, “You don‘t know anything. I can take care of myself.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

"Living my life. How I want to...and without you looking over my shoulder."

"Look at you," her vacant eyes permeated his with a sadness that would drown a universe, "Look what you've done to yourself," in one swift motion he unfolded her hand from the pretend cigarette and tossed it out the window next to her.

Her frail fingers jumped at the folds of his coat, struggling to latch onto them in a  threatening gesture. The blackened notches and nicks hiding behind her yellowed skin suddenly bloomed as she stepped into the gray moonlight.

"Nicole," his eyes scream helplessly as he manages to look at her again, "What have they done to you?"

She let herself hang loosely on the invisible strands of gravity while her tears melt with the ash on her cheeks, "I wish we were ten again Daniel," her lips crashed into his shoulder,  cracked skin caressing the coarse fabric of his coat.

"I know," he said, taking his baby sister into his arms, "I know."