Blissful

                                    

                                          
The air on the isle was thick and stale as I walked down the quiet alley at two in the morning. Reaching the familiar spot, I reached down and picked up a rock. Grinning to myself, I angle my arm in just the right way and let the rock soar through the air. It hit the "Danger: flying rocks" sign with a loud ping before falling to the ground with a thud. The gate flew up with a creaky flourish, revealing the steps to my apartment behind it. I grudged up the stairs and flung the door to my apartment open, breathing in the familiar scent of Evie's perfume and Mal's spray paint. 
The lights were off, but the apartment was still lit blue, red, and green from the moonlight streaming through the stained glass window in our living room. I looked around my apartment, it was slightly grimy, but it was home. There were portraits that Mal had painted right before she left of me, Evie, and our friends, a set of vines trailing the right wall as I walked into the room, and random words were painted here and there. I walked over to the couch, I mean it always smelled slightly like mothballs, but we somehow just learned to live with it. I dropped the canvas bag that I was toting around with me on the weathered coffee table and dumped out the contents. Three apples that were tinged green and brown and honestly kind of mushy, a red lipstick, and three small ornate mirrors. I scooped up the mirrors from the table and walked over to the wall where we had installed makeshift shelves out of driftwood we randomly found around the island, that had quickly become home to my stolen mirror collection. I smiled, my fingers brushing the frames as I gently placed my three newest pieces on the bottom shelf. 
When I was sure they were permanently anchored to the wall, I slumped back to the couch, shedding my jacket as I went. I threw myself on the couch, flopped my feet on the table, and looked at the jacket on my lap. It was a maroon; red velvet jacket and it had certainly been through the wringer once or twice. The sleeves had unidentified stains and holes, worn patches on the elbows, and one of the sleeves had actually even been removed once, only to be reattached with a black leather cord that I had "found" in the marketplace. I turned it over my lap and smiled silently to myself. The back had been slashed about 6 months ago in a sword fight I had taken part in with Harry Hook, one of the most hated villain kids on the island. I was so distraught when I came home that night, that I threw the jacket on the floor and stormed to my room. Only to come out the next morning, and find it gently laid on the arm of the couch, a piece of golden fabric sewn on the inside to patch up the gash. My fingers fluttered over the "VK" that Mal had painted on the top of the back of the jacket in gold paint, letting the black paint that she had outlined it in drip down the back. This was maybe my most prized possession, it even trumped my mirrors somehow. 
Sighing, I threw the memory-soaked garment onto the couch and began the trek to my room. I stopped at the bar in the kitchen, gingerly placing my gloves next to the dripping cans of paint, taking the small dagger earrings out of my ears, and placing them gently on top. I ran a hand through my hair, my fingers momentarily getting stuck in the curls. 
I walked up the two steps that led to the bedrooms, untying my black knee-high boots as I went. I dropped them haphazardly on the steps and walked up to Evie's bedroom door frowning. She wasn't here to yell at me when she tripped over my boots anymore. I pouted, walking into my messy room with a sigh. There wasn't much to it really. There was a small single mattress on the floor in the far-right corner, a small table on the wall in front of it that housed my makeup, and a medium-sized mirror that I had nicked when I was ten. There were a few shirts thrown on the floor, and a pair of pants I never wore was thrown across the back of a red upholstered chair.  There was really only one pair of pants that I ever wore, an Evie Original. They were black and incredibly worn like everything else I owned. They had a lace-up closure, and pieces of different fabrics were sewn onto the legs; a red one with black lace, and a black one with a black lace overlay, each panel was separated by a strip of fabric that was covered in grommets "to add an edgy flair" to directly quote Evie. 
I smiled, taking a look around the room. Mal had painted a large golden flower on the far-left wall, and there were random strips of red and yellow fabrics hanging from the ceiling that Evie and I had stolen from the docks over the years. There were stains on the carpet from when Carlos and I snuck into his mother's forbidden wine cabinet last month, and one of Jay's jackets lay next to the bed. 
I plopped myself down on the mattress, laying my head on the single pillow at the head of the bed. I snuggled myself up in the sole red sheet I had and sighed. I didn't have any blankets. Comfort was exactly priority number one on the island. I struggled for a moment before I felt a soft smile on my face. Today marked day number two without the rest of the VKs on the island. Which means, that tomorrow marks day number three. The day Mal was supposed to meet me with her report. I get to see my best friend tomorrow, and that thought was enough to send me into a blissful sleep.