Pink Ribbon

Lily Rose's couch echoed down the alley walls. She put her pale hand over her mouth to hide it, face reddening as she tried to wish it away. Nothing stirred from the city, nothing to inspect where this sound had come from. Breathing through her mouth, she kept her stride before kneeling on one knee to the box. Her hands felt for the object she desired, and they got it.

Sometimes it felt lonely. Her mother was gone from a car crash, her father was somewhere in Canada. This was her alone, this was her sancuturary. Herself was her company, I was her friend. Me was her soul mate, and Lily Rose was the jealous ex. Was it possible to envy yourself?

Maybe it was if you were alone.

"I'm not alone," she hugged herself, "I have Me, myself, and I. That's my family, so I'm not alone." She fell back at that point, the tears pooling in her electric blues.

Who was she kidding? She was alone, and every day she just kept slipping further and further away. Soon enough the world wouldn't matter, she'd walk around in her shell of depression, bearing a lonely heart. That's how she always be, a wander. Not seeking, not dreaming, no believing. A wander.

"Kid, what are you doing?" a voice echoed like thunder in the allyway, bouncing off her eardrums.

"Nothing," she mouthed these words.

"Get out of here," a gloved hand came down on her neck, yanking her to her feet. They instantly caved in, making her collapse with a whimper.

"I can't," they were barely auditable, but they were words.

"Ain't got nowhere to go?" she got what he looked like then.

His hair was stolen from midnight, ragged across a pale head, looking more like a wig. The clothes reeked, not that she cared about this smell. She wasn't much better herself, anyway. His body was etched in scars, every one having a story, like all did. The eyes were what changed her.

They were clear at first, colorless and plain. Then they shifted to a dim purple, next to a deep blue-jean blue. When they met her own they fixed to a sort of pink, and they remained there.

"No," her words suddenly tumbled so one could hear them, shaky and stuttering.

"Maybe Amy was right," she felt something move in her chest at the name, "maybe I'm not alone in this."

"Who's Amy?" it was rude, but it was what came out of her mouth.

"A girl I took a fancy to in high school," he had her hand, and she felt the dirt of the glove and the grime of oil and something else, "then I got here. Went on a man's money, worked my butt off for it, too. Then he dropped me on the street, and I turned violent. I did some things I regret, now I'm here."

She was rather shocked by him opening right up to talk to her of his past. It wasn't pleasant, and when she met somebody, she barely said a word. If even an ally asked of her past, she'd swell up and allow her tears to get her out of it. They got that it was painful, at least. But this guy…he was different somehow. She just felt something with him.

Another movement in her chest brought her hands to her ribs, "My past wasn't always painful. Always rich, always prissy, always a player. Isn't it funny how if you get your own heart stomped on, how it's like giving yourself a long-due time out?" She didn't expect a response, but she got one too quick, like he'd said this to somebody, himself, many times before.

"Those people who get is deserved it, a good, long time in your corner," his eyes were a million miles away, turning reddish, but the pink stayed in the irses, "thing is, sometime you gotta let yourself out."

Lily Rose was still sitting in her time out, facing her corner. She just didn't feel like it was time to get up just yet. She couldn't bring herself to do it, she felt this punishment should stay there forever. Her heart slowed each day, her pain remained and washed over her like waves.

It stung her shattered heart, all the cuts included, with the salt water poison.

"Margret!" seven year old Lily Rose whined in a shout to the next room of her gleaming pearl home, "I want ice cream!"

"I'm working on it, Rosie," that was her pet name.

"Ice cream!" she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. Turning slightly, she admired her beauty.

Her make-up was flawless, and her red hair was in curls and ribbons, swinging with a slight wave down her back. Her eyes were beautiful and forest, complementing her lime dress that ruffled down her ankles. She was a little princess, and she knew it.

"Here you go, darling," Margret was an elder who was tired of her, but put on a smile for the sack of the cash, "ice cream." The child took it and threw it across the room.

"I wanted chocolate!" she screamed, starting to throw a temper tantrum.

Oh, how bad the old women wanted to give her the punishment she deserved and a good, long scolding. But she stepped down, avoiding this, and let her roll around and scream.

"Lily Rose Jones, get your little butt up!" her father burst in, suit in shreds and blonde hair ripped and ragged, "your mother's dead!"

The word hit her like a ton of bricks. She stopped her squawling and looked up at him with wide eyes, struggling to follow him.

"Where are we going?" she asked, fearful of this anger.

"The servents are excused!" he called out, and all of the servents ran out with all their cheeks in their hands.

"What?" her heart filled with dread as he got in the car, "Daddy, don't leave me!"

"Sorry, kid," his truck roared to life as pulled out, "but that's not my name anymore." Like that he was gone, not caring anymore for her.

She ran inside, real sobs echoing through the house. Then her heart closed up like a fist, trapping in depression and fear. Dropping to her knees, she watched the ice cream melt.

"When it happened.." the memory refolded itself back when she finished telling him, "..I shut myself out then. For the past nine years I've been everywhere, just wandering with nobody to go to. It's my life now, I deserve it."

"You've been in time out long enough," he took her hands, and she stared into his pink eyes, "you're coming out and I'm making you."

"But why?" she felt the movement her chest painfully smack her ribs, making her eyes get wet.

"Kid, my eyes are pink," his breath was on her face, "means I love again. And I thought it wasn't possible."

Suddenly, her heart broke through. Her soul kicked into action, and she lost her footing. When her eyes opened again, it was like seeing something new. How beautiful he was, like she was searching in his soul. Gazing to the streets, she saw people, and it was like the first time.

Her time out was over.

Facing Pink Eyes, she whispered, "My name's Lily Rose."

"Jake," he kissed her hand, "it's nice to finally see you."