41 ... runaway

                                    

                                          





  friday 
knights
41



☊ | track thirty-three—void


"PIXIE IS SO TALENTED," Amira looked at her tattoo from the body-length mirror in the back room. She brushed her thumb across the plastic keeping the ink safe and hissed. "I should've used numbing cream," She scolded herself as Carter grabbed some clear tape from across the room. "Make a dirty joke, I dare you," She warned and Carter closed his mouth.
"This should help keep the plastic on," He dropped to his knees beside her and ripped two thin pieces of tape with his teeth. Putting the pieces of tape on the top and bottom corners of the plastic, Carter looked at the woman in front of him through the mirror.
His eyes drank her in before they stopped at her stomach and his mind started swirling. He then blinked away, clearing his thoughts. How could he think so far into the future that fast? He just loved her so much, that the thoughts came naturally to him. 
His heart fluttered at the image of Amira with a baby bump—his baby bump. The thought was so pleasing, he couldn't wait to get to that part of their lives. Because he wanted it all with her. The forever commitment, the career success, and the hardships of raising little monsters together. 
Every time he looked at her, everything was clear.
"You okay?" Amira looked at him through the mirror, running her fingers through his hair. Carter turned her straight and held her hips as he stood from his knees. "Never better, my love," He leaned down and buried his face in her neck. "You sure?" She chuckled.
"Mhm," He held her waist and hand, swaying them gently to nonexistent music. Amira smiled softly as he twirled her around. "Life felt never better."
"Whatever you say, Patrick Swayze."
"Funny," He pulled her back in. 
"I have to ask, does this one have a story?" She ran her fingers down his arm and he huffed softly, "Diane."
"I haven't been the best brother to her—or a brother to her at all. She—when I went to pick her up from school a couple of days ago, she came straight from the counselors' office," Amira felt her heart sink. 
"Is she okay?"
"I don't know but I feel so much at fault. No, I know I am. I don't know what goes through her head or what she may be going through at all, but I do know it's my fault. Everything from the butterflies to the birds, and leaves are her favorite things in nature."
He smiled softly, "When she was younger, she loved going outside. It didn't matter what the weather was like. She loved spring especially because that's when butterflies make an appearance. Cato and I used to take her to the park with bird seeds and we would look like a bunch of Dr. Dolittle's," He chuckled and Amira grinned. "She's somehow really good with fluttery creatures. She also loved fall because of the falling leaves. She liked to take a bunch inside, wash them off and make everyone these cute little crowns."
He smiled at the memories. The only good ones he probably ever had or could remember with Diane.
"And maybe I was more of a brother to her then, than I am now.  I don't know what happened...I just, I'm so angry at the past—at my dad and I guess since he's barely around...I take it out on her. I know that's wrong, I deserve to get struck by lightning or something for how I've treated her. I found myself reminiscing those memories and I've never had a wake-up call this loud and painful before. I miss her."