(Cris)
I wake the same way every morning. Grumpy, naked and cold, but the first thing I do is walk by my Bob Marley Poster, sick, and my record player, which makes me smile then I look in the mirror. My long brown hair is usually in a soft braid that falls to my hips. My skin so pale, I look sick and fragile. Next I brush my teeth, wash my face, then make my way back over to the king size, lean over and kiss the love of my life good morning.
Usually on a Saturday morning I go do community service at a soup kitchen, not because I have to, but because I genuinely like helping. Truth and change are what I stand for, I not only talk the talk, but I walk the walk. If I want things to change I go out and I help in my community. Look at me carrying on. Christian is my name. Christian Smith. I hate my name. It is run-of-the-mill and boring. My other half is the exciting part of me. I like to drink Vodka sodas, listen to opera, and smoke weed.
“Wake up darling, it’s time to go!”
It all started two years ago. I was 20 and depressed. Not for any particular reason, my life was full and good. But I felt as if I wondered around without a purpose. Then she found me. Bloody, razor in hand, and face down on the bathroom floor of a mall. She saved my life and to this day she thinks nothing of it. She says we were meant to find each other, she says she heard my blood calling her name, screaming for help.
Her name is Alexa and she is my girlfriend. I am more than in love with her, I am involved and committed, deeply committed. Everything about her was made for me, starting with her chocolate skin. Her arms stained and painted with the artwork of her choice. She is a vixen. Every breath of hers comes out as danger and edginess. She can turn the dullest of things into pure excitement, including myself. She is what makes living in this meaningless existence of a town worth anything. From her dark Mohawk, to her sweet scent of oranges and fresh laundry, with her effortless sweet smile, and her light and gentle touch. These are all that I need. But here is the kicker. No one knows of our love. They can’t. An interracial, lesbian couple in Lindale Georgia is almost asking for a hate crime to be brought to life.
So we live in secret waiting for Alexa’s probation to be up so we can move out of this town. She is not a bad person by any means she just got pulled over while smoking a joint. While we are waiting and saving to move we spend most of our days like this, at the park, on a blanket, drinking a beer.
“Hey Alexa do you think that super heroes are real?”
“Like men of steel flying through the sky?”
“Well, yes and no. I mean of course the flying thing wouldn’t be real, but you know knocking down the bad guys and doing what’s right for the better of the people.”
“Cris, look, YOU are an amazing person, and YOU do good deeds, but I don’t think that people set out to be heroes. I think that some people use their courage when it’s needed.”
“So you are saying that the heroes are there?”
“I am saying that sometimes a hero may step out. But there will most certainly, always be a bad guy.”
“Well hey it’s Alexa Aster! I am assuming two vodka sodas?”
“You know it!”
There is something about this bar that I do not like, but Cris loves coming here for some odd reason. I think is reminds her of all the reasons why we want to leave this town. But I do love watching her from across the room. She is so awkward. She tries to hide he marks on her wrists and arms, but I think they show character. She has such an inviting smile. I don’t know why she is with me, but I know I am lucky to have her. No one in the world could comprehend or fathom my obsession for Cris. I live for her. I would die for her.
“Here is your drink, beautiful.”
Cris looks at me shyly, raises her glass and says “Here’s to a good night!”
“Stop! Why are you doing this to us?” I heard Cris scream out.
It’s raining hard. I can’t see her, but I know they took her down this ally.
“Cris!”
Where is she? How did they find out we were together?
“Cris!” I screamed as loud as I could.
There she is, this is like a dream. Three guys are beating my girlfriend. I am trying to run to her, but the stab wound in my leg is slowing me down. They are letting her stand up. I hope this is over. I just want it to be over.
“What are you doing? Let her go!” I screamed.
“We don’t want your kind in our town.” His voice was slimly and full of ignorance.
“Well, I love her.” Cris said those words and they sound firm and strong, a declaration it seems. She looks back at me.
“Baby I’m coming!” I yell. I muster up all the strength I have in my body to run to her.
“I love you Alexa Aster.” She said again as I was closing in on her. Then she opened her arms up, put her head to the sky, and they fired a shot. Ending her life. The rain is falling harder, the men went running, and I am standing over the body of the most important person in my life. How did this happen? How did they know? How did she know she was going to die? There is no greater pain than watching the person you would give your life for, give their life for you.
I AM LOST.
