She doesn’t answer, instead, she takes hold of my hand and pulls me up the stairs. We enter a room with white walls, a big bed, and boxes.
“Still unpacking I see,” I note, letting go of her hand and pacing over to one of the open boxes, peering in.
“You still like it don’t you?” I raise my brows at her. I reach into the box and take out her point shoes, showing her.
“Otherwise their box wouldn’t be open,” I answer an unspoken question. She watches me as I go through the things in her room. Her books, her clothes.. I stop when I come across a framed photo. I pick it up. It’s of a boy- a young man.
“Is this your boyfriend?” I ask holding it up. Her eyes narrow and then she moves. She takes the photo frame out of my hand and puts it back down. I note she is still holding the hand she snatched the photo out, and so does she. She eyes me as she pulls slowly the sleeve back up and then looks at my flesh inspecting it.
“Do you still want to die?” She looks up at me. Her eyes are dark brown- almost black.
“I never wanted to kill myself,” I tell her.
“So why do this?”
“Because.. I stopped feeling.. I had to make myself feel again, and that was the only way,” I explain truthfully. She nods as if she understands.
“You said was.. like it doesn’t work anymore,” She states, picking up on it.
“No.. that was how I got to the hospital,” I reply, watching as she strokes my skin softly, making goosebumps run down my back.
“I cut to deep- and the wrong way- trying to feel.. this is that cut-“ I point at the long healing scar “My dad found me bleeding out on the floor in the bathroom,” I go on, watching her.
When people found out about it, they stopped treating me like they used to, my friends looking at me as if I will go mental any moment, but Eden just runs her fingers softly up and down my scars, listening to me as if this is normal.
“Can you feel this?” She looks up at me. I nod, and so does she.
“And this?” She asks, bringing my wrist to her lips, placing soft kisses over my scars. I nod again holding my breath, her touch driving me crazy.
“And what about this?” She asks sucking the side of my wrist. I hiss as I take in a sharp breath. She knows what she’s doing to me, and she is enjoying it.
She lets go of me, looking back up at my face. As she pulls away I take hold of her arm, pulling her towards me. Her body slamming into mine. She grabs my other arm to steady herself, and I bring it around her waist pulling her even closer.
“Can you feel it?” I inquire. I watch her lips closely, wondering what they might taste like, I bit my lower lip, and glance back at her eyes. She is watching me intensively.
She moves her hands to my cheeks. That’s when I slam my lips to hers, closing my eyes, cherishing every moment of this feeling she is able to awake within me. I let my hands run down to her bum, inching her up, feeling her legs come around me as our kisses grow deeper, hotter. I turn and let her down on the bed, towering over her, her legs spread to the sides.
“You can feel it too,” I remark. She sends her hand out and grabs the fabric of my shirt pulling me down to her. I take her hands and pin them to the side of her head as I kiss the side of her neck, right under her ear, feeling her melt under me. I run my hands down her arms and over her chest. She is almost flat but I don’t care, I reach to the hem and pick up the fabric slowly. She helps me take off her shirt, and then she tries to remove mine. I sit up, pulling it over my head and throwing it to the floor. That is when I notice it, the scar. It was long and across her stomach . I stare at her eyes, which were on fire, challenging me to ask. I don’t. I reach underneath her and pull off her bra, her nipples sticking up from the cold air. I bend down and bring one into my mouth, tasting her. I blow on it making her shiver. I run my finger over the other one, cupping her breast in my palm, teasing the nipple. She is panting now, making me smile. I sit slightly up so I can take a better look of her. She reaches for my belt, undoing it. I watch her fingers as she does. Once she manages and the fly is open she bits her bottom lip and reaches her hand into my boxers. I grunt as I feel her fingers closing around me, feeling me. She reaches her other hand her bottom body still trapped under me. Being a ballerina giving her the ability to hold herself in such way, her stomach muscles being strong. She slides slightly from under me, and I pick myself up to make it easier for her. She watches me, studying me. She tugs down my pants, setting me free. I am hard and she traces a finger along it.
She is inspecting me. She is up to something. I pull away, pulling up my jeans a frown appearing on my face.
She watches me confusion on her face, though she doesn’t speak a word.
“What is your story?” I question, but she keeps quiet.
“Answer me,” I demand.
“I want you,” She claims while still staring into my eyes.
“You don’t,” I accuse her.
“Yes! Yes I do!” She sits up, bringing her palms to rest on my chest.
“Well, this is as far as we go- I don’t have protection,” I say stubbornly. Call me old fashion but I didn’t want to use her or worse- be used by her.
“Doesn’t matter- I don’t care- we can go without it,” She pushes.
“Are you on the pill?” I question, eyes narrowed.
“Well.. no- but..” She trails off, looking down at the bed sheets.
“What is it with you?” I demand to know.
“We don’t need it since I’m not planning on living much longer,” She whispers. I recoil glancing down at her face. She is still not looking at me.
I touch her chin, tilting it up so our eyes can meet.
“Eden- get dressed,” I order her. She nods slowly and reaches out for her bra. While she puts her clothes back on, I slide my own shirt over my head and do my pants up. She is sitting on her bed, looking much younger than before.
“How old are you?” I inquire standing above her.
“16.”
“Did you enjoy what we just went through?”
“It made me feel something,” She whispers. I had this feeling she might say that.
“What is that something?” I push.
“Something else- something besides pain,” She raises her eyes to meet mine. They are covered with a layer of gloss. She is crying.
“Listen to me Eden-“ I kneel down by her side, reaching to take her hands in my own, lacing our fingers together.
“I like you- you make me feel things I haven’t felt in such a long time and I only have met you a few hours ago, but I don’t want our friendship to be this- I want to take you out, I want to make you smile- laugh, but a real laugh, one that actually reaches your eyes, that will make them shine again... then and only then will I sleep with you- we will do it, but we will do it the right way,” I tell her.
She pushes off the bed, letting go of my fingers. She strolls over to an open box, the one that I looked through just before. She pulls out the framed photo and walked back over to me.
“He died.. because of me,” She mumbles in a low voice.
I sit by her side, quietly, waiting for her to go on.
“We went out, Liam and I for my 16 birthday.. he got me into a pub.. He decided that my first time drinking should be with him.. being my older brother, this was his way of looking after me.. coming home I wanted to drive his car, pleading it’s my birthday and he should let me drive.. he handed me the keys and I was so happy.. But I was also intoxicated.. I didn’t see that truck..” She trails off wiping her eyes.
“That is not your fault,” I inform her.
“But it is! I was driving! I was drunk! I woke up in the hospital to find mum and dad crying by my bed, the look of disappointment in their eyes and that is how I knew.. I knew I killed him,” She sobs. I pull her into my arms and just let her cry, not knowing what else to do..
“You cut to feel... I took pills to stop feeling.. I don’t know if it was to punish myself for killing him or because I wanted so badly to join him,” she says once calming slightly down.
“Don’t say that,” I ask of her.
“But don’t you understand?” She pulls away to look at me, “It’s what it is- I would die for my brother- I would give up my life for him in an instant..”
“Yes, but you don’t live for anyone but yourself,” I try to explain.
“You think I don’t know that?! It’s the first thing they tell you in recovery... thing is- I don’t want to live for myself! I can’t live with myself- I want to die!” She raises her voice, trying to make me understand her.
“So don’t live for yourself then- live for Liam.”
“For what? He is dead.”
“Then live for me,” I try.
“I don’t even know you,” She shakes her head getting to her feet.
“But that didn’t stop you for wanting to have sex with me,” I point out flashing a cheeky smile, thinking it might help.
“That has nothing to do with knowing you- you’re handsome, I chose you to make me feel, not to make me want to live,” She tells me.
I keep quiet, gazing up at her, she is mental- no! She's broken.. broken beyond repair.
“Come.. I want to show you something,” She offers me her hand to take. I inhale deeply and get up. I intertwine our fingers together and follow her out the room and down to the basement.
I look around at the makeshift studio her basement is turned into.
“My parents thought that if I’ll have a ballet studio at home it will make me dance again, make me better,” She says walking over to the music player.
“Did it?” I question. Instead of answering me she turns on the music. It is soft and quiet. Eden walks up to me slowly, her fingers reach my chest and glide over the fabric of my garment lightly. Then, she turns in such a graceful manner, into a ballerina pose.
I don’t know the terms and names of the moves she was performing, but I can tell you how beautiful it is. It’s as if she is flying, her arms turning into wings, the way she turns and turns.
A few moments later she stops her eyes wide, remembering where she is, what has become of her. She runs to the music player shutting it off.
“That was just wonderful- you- you’re breath taking!” I exclaim.
She shakes her head. We spend the rest of the day together, talking, telling each other stories about our past, Eden telling me about her brother. When it is time to go home, she walks me out to my car.
“I am glad I met you Eden,” I say truthfully, after all she is special.
“I am glad I met you.. Harry,” She smiles up at me.
I bend and kiss her cheek slowly. Before I have a chance to pull back, she touches my cheeks and moves her head so our lips touch, kissing me softly.
“Thank you,” I say, “For making me feel again.”

That was the last and only time I have seen Eden.
Paul told us the following Sunday she was found by her dad in the bath. This time she didn’t only take pills. She cut her wrists, filling the bath with water. She was white as a ghost, but I like thinking of her as white as a ballerina doll- porcelain. I reckon she was really gone the moment her car hit the truck, staying on earth on borrowed time. Maybe she was from the garden of Eden after all, sent back just to make sure I’m able to feel again, sent to make sure I can find all my broken pieces so I’ll be able to put myself back together. She was sent to pick up the pieces of my shuttered soul.

Notes

Hi guys!

SO here is part 2.

Please let me know what you think of the first story I'm sharing with you.
If you could subscribe and vote it would mean loads!

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this.
xx