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- one song glory by rent film cast

WEDNESDAY 6th
WELCOME BACK TO LOS ANGELES, B*TCHES. Take the day off, a rough week comes ahead of you.

-

I ran the cold faucet softly and leaned forward, splashing water alongside the contours of my cheekbones. It seemed my face looked gaunter recently, my eyes seemingly more hallow, and even my frame limp and frail, unusually so. I didn’t look healthy and I wasn’t sure why. I took a deep breath as the cool liquid ran down the lengths of my skin before shutting the sink off and standing up straight, patting an ivory colored towel alongside the bottom my jaw.

I had finally gotten back to Los Angeles and I really needed to get back into the swing of things. I had a life besides Johnny and his friends and his tour. I had a job, a career, a Pagan / Occult shop that I had left to be run by Bolton, my one and only other employee besides myself. I needed to be there for Wicked Voodoo; it was my baby and basically the only thing I really had anymore. Wicked Voodoo was my only escape.

I wanted my old life back. I wanted the simplicity of it all back. I wanted my old relationship with Johnny back, with all my friends. I wanted my own identity back. I wanted Catarina back. But in life, certain things can never return, never reincarnate. And maybe it was selfish of me to want to rejuvenate the past, but that’s the thing about human beings. We are selfish entities. But I just might be the most selfish of all.

I took a deep, heaving sigh and stuffed my feet into the soles of my boots before turning and marching out of the bathroom. I entered the wide, well-distributed, open living space of our loft when I spotted Johnny sitting on the longue chase in the corner, reading. He never read very much but I noticed my copy of The Catcher in The Rye was cradled in his lap like a treasured prize. He also wore his wide-framed, prescription Buddy Holly glasses – he never wore them much either. I felt like he was doing this just to share a rare, unexplored side of himself with me. And then it dawned on me that that was implausible.

I spotted the front door in the distance and wondered if I should just make a bolt for it, avoid talking to Johnny altogether. and just head straight for Wicked Voodoo. But then again, I realized that I wasn’t being mature, I wasn’t being responsible. Johnny was my boyfriend, my /fiancé/ even, and we were supposed to have a strong foundation, a strong relationship.

We were supposed to be able to get through this.

I took a tentative step towards Johnny and watched as his brown eyes glanced up and met mine in a quick beat before glancing down and focusing on his book again. It was like he wasn’t even able to look at me. Why wouldn’t he look at me?!?

Oh god, look at me.

It was like he had taken a knife and jabbed it into my chest, twisting it deeper and deeper into the depths of my heart.

Please look at me.

I finally earned enough courage to make my way to his side. I collapsed besides him on the couch and situated myself close, clearing my throat and trying to hide my nerves. Johnny picked up an old Polaroid photograph (of me and him no less) and inserted it between the pages, marking his spot. I watched as he closed the red-colored cover of the book and set it down besides him on the armrest.

“Johnny…” I croaked, my voice hoarse from all the cigarettes I had smoked earlier in the day. I really needed to quit. I reached for him slowly, wrapping my arms around him in a tight embrace. I felt his back stiffen initially, but as a few, endless seconds passed, he relaxed and encircled my waist in his grip. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. 

I loved him with the entirety of my being. That was the beginning and the end of everything.

“I’ve missed you so much,” He murmured, burying his face deep into the contour of my neck, fitting effortlessly, like a missing piece to an insurmountable puzzle. He was the missing piece.

“I’ve missed you too, baby,” I breathed. How complex creatures humans seemed – missing another being who had been near the entire time. How utterly preposterous.

“Oh my god, Jude, I’m so sorry for everything. I shouldn’t have pressured you into running off and eloping,” He simpered. It sounded as if he was crying. Johnny never cried. “I shouldn’t have been so mad at you. I shouldn’t have done what I did, baby. I didn’t want to hurt you. My god, I was so stupid. This is all my fault.”

I shook my head firmly, gripping his neck and pulling apart from him to bring our faces closer together.

“I love you,” I announced firmly, strongly. He nodded.

“I love you too.”

I kissed him softly, our lips meeting in a sweet embrace before I felt an uncomfortable sensation drift up through my intestines. 

I pulled away from Johnny rapidly, bringing a hand to my stomach. He eyed me carefully.

“Jude… what just happened? Are you okay?”

I cleared my throat before standing and running in the direction of the bathroom as fast as my buckled shoes would take me. I knelt before the toilet, nearly skinning my knees on the tile, and vomited the entire contents of my stomach lining into the bowl. 

I felt Johnny’s hands holding my hair away from my face, rubbing the small of my back, and setting a wet washed cloth on the back of my neck. It felt nice, despite the searing pain through my abdomen.

“Judas, are you okay?”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

Physically, no.

Emotionally… 

-

(type 'in the eyes of a young girl' if you read it all)
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