Color Me Pretty

enough.
    “On the way here,” I begin, wondering if Kylie's listening in on us at all. I can still hear the faucet in the bathroom, so I'm not sure. “I drew a girl in a dress on the window. It's gone now, but I still can't get that image out of my head. I think I might have to learn to sew.”
    “I think you'd be damn good at it,” he tells me and then, almost as if he can sense the phone is about to shut off, he adds. “And Claire, when I said I loved you, I meant it.” Click.
    I close my eyes for a moment and press the receiver against my chest. Inside of me, the flames of passion I feel towards Emmett begin to burn away the pain, setting fire to the anguish and turning it to ash. When I finally and fully admit to myself that I, too, love Emmett in return, there'll be none left.
    I have a long way to go.
    “God, you've got it bad,” Kylie says, making me jump. I was so entranced in Emmett that I completely forgot where I was and who I was with. I set the phone down and turn to glance at her over my shoulder. She's smiling at first, but the longer she stands there and the longer I stare, the sadder she gets. Finally, as if they've been waiting years to fall, tears begin to stream from her eyes. Without a word, I pat the bed next to me, and she comes and sits. This girl that I've known for a few, sparse hours finds comfort in me and lays down with her head in my lap.
    She sobs for awhile and then goes quiet, falling into an uneasy sleep and taking her secrets along with her. Again, I wish I knew her story. I stroke some honeyed curls behind her ear and sigh. Love is redeeming, but it's also destructive. Or at least, it can be. That worries me. If I give Emmett my heart, I give him power. But I trust him; I trust him more than I trust myself.
    A few minutes later, an orderly comes to check on us, opening the door without knocking and not bothering to shut it behind her. Thankfully, she doesn't stay long.
    “When I get out of here, I'm going to finish what I started.” I look down and see that Kylie's green eyes are open wide. They're dry now, but I can see the cold, dull ache of pain throbbing beneath a false brightness. Kylie seems outgoing, talks big, smiles wide, but she's dead inside. I know because I almost was, too.
    “You're going to kill yourself?” I ask. I try not to sound judgmental, but maybe I do because my new friend sits up and stands, looking down at me with an expression that says she sees deep, far deeper even than I. It's then that I understand she already knows me better than I do. We're cut from the same cloth, her and me.
    “Is that any different than what you're doing?”
    “I want to be a model.”
    “Bullshit.” I stare at Kylie, at the redness in her cheeks and the anger in her fists. I don't blame her. She doesn't know me, doesn't know how badly I want this, how badly I've always wanted this. “Don't play that crap on me. This isn't about being skinny, not really. This is about punishment. You're punishing yourself because you don't think you deserve any better. I know that because I watched Madelyn do it to herself, day in and day out since she turned thirteen.”
    “Everyone's different, Kylie,” I snap, feeling a little angry myself. I look up at her standing silhouetted against the window and realize for the first time since coming in here that Kylie does have bars on her windows. “Even anorexics. Believe it or not, we've all got our reasons.”
    “And so do I. If I want to bleed myself dry, whose business is it? If love drained my soul and killed my spirit, why should I stick around and stare at the rubble of my dreams?” Kylie's eyes get moist, but she doesn't cry again. She stands there, strong and simmering, full of passion, but unaware that it's there. She says she has nothing to live for; I see everything in her eyes. I wonder briefly if I'm the same way. “If I can't have him, what else is there?” She switches her gaze back to me. “If I can't have the one thing I've always wanted, why bother?”
    I look her straight in the eye and tell her the truth as only Emmett knows it.
    “Even when you think there's only one road to your destination, you can always find a scenic detour.”
    I can't wait until I believe that.

The nights at Crescent Springs are so much worse than
    the days.
    When the sun's up, Kylie and I pretend we're on vacation, just lazing away the days sitting on her bed and talking about nothing. Occasionally, a hard topic comes up and