“You know that we would welcome you with open arms were you to join us. You’re family.” Rachel’s eyes did not budge from the girl’s. The girl looked away over Rachel’s shoulder at the city skyline beyond. Factory smoke obscured her view, and she slowly turned back. “I have a family,” the girl said, her fingers tightly grasping at her oversized backpack. “You do.” Rachel took a step closer, her head bent. “But you are here, and not with them.” The girl fiddled with the strap, tightening it with aggression. Her jet black hair had fallen in her eyes, yet she did not move to brush it back, her entire concentration set on fixing the stupid strap. Rachel took a step forward and gently tucked the edge of the girl’s bob behind her silver-studded ear. The girl did not look up. “I remember how I felt when I joined The Circle. I was terrified, knowing I was freefalling into the future. But I have never regretted it. None of us have.” Rachel turned to face the room. “We have each other.” Women in multi-colored clothing seated around the edges of the dim loft lifted their heads, their painted smiles not faltering, their eyes empty of pain beckoning to her. And she, too, could be free of the pain. “And if I don’t?” the girl had stopped fussing with her backpack, the glint of the tall candles placed around the room reflected in her eyes. “Then you will be in our prayers daily. We care about you, and only want what is best for you. If you feel that that is leaving us… We will miss you.” The girl looked around the loft. Old beanbags and boxes of diet soda lined the walls, not very different than the youth hostel down the street. The hostel where a man had staggered in, his arm punctured with glass from a beer bottle. Where her last bit of money had been stolen in the few minutes it took her to use the washroom. “I-I will stay… if it’s okay?” the Gothic spirit in her had been crushed, and what was left was a vulnerable girl. Susceptible. Pliable. Rachel could work with that. “You know it is,” Rachel’s studs digging into the girl’s cheek as she warmly embraced her. “You are one of us now.”
“I have a family,” the girl said, her fingers tightly grasping at her oversized backpack.
“You do.” Rachel took a step closer, her head bent. “But you are here, and not with them.”
The girl fiddled with the strap, tightening it with aggression. Her jet black hair had fallen in her eyes, yet she did not move to brush it back, her entire concentration set on fixing the stupid strap.
Rachel took a step forward and gently tucked the edge of the girl’s bob behind her silver-studded ear.
The girl did not look up.
“I remember how I felt when I joined The Circle. I was terrified, knowing I was freefalling into the future. But I have never regretted it. None of us have.” Rachel turned to face the room. “We have each other.”
Women in multi-colored clothing seated around the edges of the dim loft lifted their heads, their painted smiles not faltering, their eyes empty of pain beckoning to her.
And she, too, could be free of the pain.
“And if I don’t?” the girl had stopped fussing with her backpack, the glint of the tall candles placed around the room reflected in her eyes.
“Then you will be in our prayers daily. We care about you, and only want what is best for you. If you feel that that is leaving us… We will miss you.”
The girl looked around the loft. Old beanbags and boxes of diet soda lined the walls, not very different than the youth hostel down the street. The hostel where a man had staggered in, his arm punctured with glass from a beer bottle. Where her last bit of money had been stolen in the few minutes it took her to use the washroom.
“I-I will stay… if it’s okay?” the Gothic spirit in her had been crushed, and what was left was a vulnerable girl. Susceptible. Pliable.
Rachel could work with that.
“You know it is,” Rachel’s studs digging into the girl’s cheek as she warmly embraced her. “You are one of us now.”