When the cigarette reaches my lips, I open my eyes, staring at my faint reflection. It’s dark outside and I suck harder, frowning as my face glows brighter. Stubbing out what’s left of my small torch on the window’s sill, I’m surrounded again by almost silent night. Ignoring another annoyed sigh, I pointedly tap the pack against my palm before reaching for another. She doesn’t like the smell. That’s okay, I don’t like hers either.

Turning away, I exhale slowly, blowing a lazy, gray-white cloud towards the bed. I can’t see her face in the darkness, but I know she can see mine. Smirking, I walk to the edge of the bed, leaning over her prone body. Her breath hitches as the tip glows brighter between my lips. She doesn’t move when I dip my head near her face, softly blowing out another cloud. Straddling her waist, I let a few hot ashes fall as I remove the cigarette from my mouth. Her widened eyes are locked on my hovering hand, following it’s every movement.

I choose my pattern carefully, deciding exactly where to stroke, to singe, to create. Salty drops mar my canvas, teasing my gently lapping tongue as I surround her lobe with my mouth, whispering. “Trust me. I’m going to make you beautiful again.” This is my favorite part, the noises they make, whimpered prayers in the night. My fingertips trail my tongue, tracing the edge of each perfectly round burn, lingering to caress tender, blistered flesh. She doesn’t know it yet, but God’s not listening tonight. I’ve made sure of that.

* * * * *

Sometimes I squeeze so hard, it hurts, but I do it knowing that whenever I finally open my eyes, I’ll see blurry white, splotchy stars blocking out her face, her eyes. Warm weight on my chest makes it hard to breathe, but I don’t move away from the sweet, candy scented breath tickling my face, making my mouth water. “Are you dead?” Plastic crinkles loudly near my ear as she shifts until her mouth hovers over mine. Sticky-wet fingers press against my forehead, shielding. “’Cause dead Juniors can’t eat Gummi Bears.” My eyes flutter open slowly in her shade, hesitantly meeting matching eyes. I can’t keep my voice from breaking, “You smell like strawberries.”