If there's anywhere lower than here, it's Hell itself

John’s apartment was bathed in darkness. The only light in the room came from a thin slit in his crooked curtain, streaking across the floor like a scar. The stench of midday sex lingered throughout the room, overpowered only by the smell of cigarettes. He barely noticed anymore. The light did little to illuminate the room, but what it did shine its light on, made John’s body stiffen. He slipped on a pair of underwear and walked past the piles of dirty clothes and food wrappers. He put his back to the wall, and slid down, sitting on the floor. Jasmine looked up at him from her place on the floor, offering a half smile. He saw, through the darkness, her small frame, swallowed by one of his old shirts. She’d curled up against the wall, hugging her legs to her chest. He didn’t know how she could still breathe with how tight she’d been clutching them.

The light from the window, yet dim and small, shone across Jasmine’s face. It wasn’t enough to make out her expression from afar, but it illuminated the purpling of her cheek. John hadn’t asked how it got there. He already knew. Jasmine lived with her grandmother. Her mom dropped her off at the old woman’s home when Jasmine was a baby, and left. It was something her grandmother resented and she took it out on Jasmine. John looked away. He didn’t like seeing her like that. The bruise pulled at him, more so than her hazel eyes, or dirty blonde hair. He hated that. Hated this place, the broken blinds, the crumpled fast-food wrappers, the smell, the silence. He hated Jasmine’s bruises, and the way she’d stare at the ceiling like she was trying to will it open. She sometimes felt like a weight tied to his ankle. He hated that too. She hadn’t spoken since they’d finished. He wondered if she was waiting for him to say something. He wasn’t going to.

“Do you like me?” The soft break in silence startled him. Her voice was low enough that he barely managed to make out what she’d said. ‘Do you like me?’

Of course I like you. That’s what he wanted to say, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He just sat, slack jawed, unable to mutter out five words.

She continued without looking his way. “Sometimes when you look at me… I don’t know. It just makes me feel bad. Like I’m some kind of pest, or a piece of gum stuck to your shoe. Like no matter how hard you shake I never unstick myself.” Her voice was a little sharper now.

He didn’t respond.

“But other times you’re all over me. You’ll give me these looks that say, ‘you’re the only one who understands’ and it melts my heart, but then you’ll switch up on me the next second.”

John finally spoke up, his voice just as soft as hers. “This isn’t what I signed up for. To be accosted like this.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Why couldn’t he just say what he meant? There was no denying the things she’d said, no taking back his looks, but the least he could do was be truthful. Instead, he sat there in silence; a long, dark silence. Words were clawing at his throat, screaming to get out, but he shoved them down. Were his feelings embarrassing? Maybe. He didn’t know if it was embarrassment, or discontent, or his need to always ruin things for himself. He might’ve shoved off her concerns, but if she walked out the door, he’d beg her to stay. She really was the only person who could understand him.

Finally. “I like you.”

“Good. Then I like you too.”

She gave him another half-smile. He tried to smile back, but her bruise tugged on the sides of his lips. There wouldn’t have been any authenticity behind it anyway.

“John…” She looked up at him, serious. “I want to run away.”

“Where would you go?”

“Anywhere. Someplace we can start over. I can’t keep rotting away in this town.” Her voice was soft. “I feel like I’m disappearing.”

John looked at her. She wasn’t pleading with him, nor had she started crying. He imagined she’d rehearsed the conversation in her head. He would’ve done the same.

“You want me to come with you?”

She nodded.

“I don’t know, Jasmine. I have a job and…” He didn’t know why he was protesting. “It’s not as simple as just leaving.”

“It could be. We could just go. We could go right now, drive somewhere new and start over.”

“I don’t have much money. We don’t have a plan… it’d be such a mess.”

Her eyes steeled. “I need something drastic. If I wait any longer I won’t be able to live with myself. I don’t need a guarantee you’ll stay, I just need to know if you’ll try.”

There was a long silence. He couldn’t pry his eyes from her. Jasmine’s face was still swollen, and purple, but it was her eyes that held his gaze. Sparks of green stood out amongst the brown of her hazel eyes, like the last embers of a fire.

“You think we’d make it?”

“I don’t know.” She moved his way, resting her head on his shoulder gently. “But I know we won’t make it here.”

John could feel his chest tightening. He thought about his job, his apartment, and Jasmine. He wasn't happy. If he were honest, happy memories were few and far between. His life had become a twist of dull routine and lazing downtime. He’d been rotting away for years and hadn’t done a single thing to better his life.

“Okay.” He put his arm around Jasmine, pulling her closer to him. “I want to go with you.”

In the dark, amongst dirty laundry, and the stink of trash that had been left in the bin too long, they made one step forward. Two broken things huddling together under a harsh, never-ending downpour.