I think back, pressing my lips together irritably at the memory. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, I light one and Gemme pulls me up, waving me down the stairs. Guess she doesn't want all her room to smell of it too. Fair enough.
"Hmm. I was attacked by my cat when I was like six. I threw it across the room and broke its spine. Never liked them since." I explain as we go down the stairs, glad of the distraction from my mini break down I just had.
"Oh." She holds back a giggle, and apparently ignores the glare I give her. It was a traumatic experience, I'll have you know. "I was never allowed pets father got paranoid I was conspiring against him with them."
"You weren't missing out." I mutter sullenly as I sit down on the sofa with the ashtray next to me.
"I missed talking to my hamster though...I bet that makes me sound crazy doesn't it?"
"I'd say no, but... what exactly does a hamster have to say?" I ask arching an eyebrow, though she probably can't see that through the smoke that I blow out as I speak. Oh well. Just as well, it looks stupid without the piercing in it now, there's just this hole.
"Quite a lot actually, you wouldn't believe how much they hate those boxes. Also, they are quite picky eaters." Her voice is so matter-of-fact that I can't even laugh at it.
"I'll say. My hamster never ate anything I put in its cage. It was like trying to feed an anorexic plastic bitch, y'know the kind at school." I smile, remembering my hamster's refusal to go anywhere near the food. That was when I was three. Stupid bugger died and my mom wouldn't buy me a new one. Traumatic experience number two, methinks.
"This is beside the point. Animals are just misunderstood most of the time, that's all." Gemme continues in that matter-of-fact way.
"Well when they learn to talk, I'll listen. Til then, I'll just stay away from them, thanks."
"Cosmos finds you interesting by the way, says you have things you are hiding from people. He's not as dumb as he may look." I look up at this. What does a cat think I'm hiding?
"Well duh. I might hate what's in my head, but it's still mine." I mutter, stubbing out the cigarette butt in the tray. That needs emptying, actually. I'll do it in a minute, after this next smoke.
"One day I hope to find out too you know." She says thoughtfully, glancing at my hands as I pull out and light another smoke.
"Well what else do you think I'm hiding? There's nothing good in there." I shrug, frowning slightly.
"There is something good in there. I felt something." Huh.
"Then it'll be as much a surprise to me as it will to you if I ever find it."
"You have a happy place right?" she asks. The question takes me by surprise a little and I answer slowly: "It's quiet; I wouldn't call it happy as such."
"Where, when is it?" uh...? "Sometimes people find a happy place at certain times in their life. I found mine when I used to sing."
"Oh. I dunno. I just sit with my knees up against my chest and stop thinking." I shrug a little and smile vaguely.
"Oh yes, I believe I have seen you like that before." She nods thoughtfully and seems to remember when she saw me like that. I personally don't really remember it, mainly because I go there a lot, and I don't really pay attention to anything like that. I just see nothing, hear nothing, think nothing. So like I say, not happy, but quiet.
"It's a lot easier to go there when I'm surrounded by junkies ripping each other apart, for some reason, but I guess that's just habit." Or maybe that was just when I needed it most, because there was nothing to think about when I was there. It would at least explain why my brain goes nuts when I have things to think about that aren't drugs - namely Gemme.
"Mhm. Well, if I could ever help you I know it must be easier to think when in your happy place."
"How would you help me when I'm mentally dead to the world?"
"I'm a little better than the world." She grins. I incline my head in agreement.
"You're nowhere near as cruel."
"I never really thought about that." She shrugs and watches me as I finish the cigarette. I get up and go to the kitchen with the ashtray. Emptying it out, I keep talking.
"Well the rest of the world usually shuns me, sees me as no good and sweeps me under the carpet, pretending I'm not there. Yet here you are, in love with me, according to you, and trying to fix me."
"I'm not fixing you, you're not broken." Gemme retorts as I come back into the room and sit down again.
"Hmm." Yeah, because this is the kind of conversation you'd be having with someone that didn't need some kind of fixing.
"Plus you have helped me too."
"How so?" I arch an eyebrow, wondering how the hell I've helped her in any way shape or form at all.
"With my... umm... sensitivity to things." She hesitates and doesn't directly say what she means. Sometimes it can be cute when a girl dodges around stuff because it's embarrassing, but I'm no good with subtlety, as we all know, and of course, whatever she's getting at goes right over my head.
"Please don't make me spell it out." Pfft.
"Well I won't make you spell it out, but you know how shit I am at subtlety."
"Sex, Luca." She shakes her head frustrated, by my stupidity. I consider asking ‘what about it?' but I figured that mightn't be such a great idea, y'know. It might annoy her. And make me look even more dumb than I already do.
"Oh." I mutter instead and wonder what to say next.
"Thank you." She smiles, cutting in before I have a chance to ask something stupid or awkward.
"For showing me new things, although I have seen it before in peoples' minds."
"Oh, right. S'ok." I shrug and smile, my mind wandering almost instantly. I wonder if I'm actually any good in bed anyways. Guess I'll have to find out?