SMITTEN - CHAPTER 1 THE BLUE VIXEN - COMP 1

“I mean because it's all about youth and it's beauty isn't it? all the joy, all the pain, all the smoking, all the irony and all the smiles we try to push on others. We think we only show the tip of the colorful iceberg we actually are, but in the end, we've become the pose itself and the mask of love will fall, as it always does.”

-Millie Bane.

  Only music brought her back home, she would admit that any day, music just activated who she really was. Music would put her in contact with a world she wished she belonged to, it made time stop and for a brief moment in her life, she would feel no fear, no anxiety, no pain, and most important of all, she would feel free.
Pristina Rojo was turning twenty years old in a few days’ time; she was a young woman from Mexicali, Baja California, a Mexican city neighboring the United States’ small town of Calexico, California, two quite different towns with not quite the different people. Pristina, like more than a few “Mexicalenses”, had lived in the U.S. as a child and had then moved back to Mexico in her mid-teens, such was the case that even her Spanish skills had been somewhat crippled, and, at least by the time of her arrival, she would often find Spanish tiring and even painful to speak.
  When describing Pristina, one could just go straight for the word “bitch”, not a very obliging lass for sure, in particular to those she disliked, and her beautiful looks were of no help at all, she had long dark auburn hair, cute blocky nose, big napoleonesque hazelnut eyes, oval shaped pretty face and thick and beautiful Latin lips, in a city where most people could be considered of olive skin, her paleness did actually stand out, only redhead in a four sister set, she was indeed a bit of a grump.
  At five feet five high and taking in consideration the extreme standards of contemporary times, she probably wouldn’t have won a beauty pageant today, no, her beauty was rather low profile; perhaps it was precisely that simple “beautiful peasant” look what most found alluring, as you would a diamond in the rough, and yet, ironically enough, what would repeatedly attract the cockiest of men.
  At any rate, beauty being in the eye of the beholder and all; I am sure you have seen better, but regardless, one truth still stood; not only was Pristina beautiful, bold and blunt, she too was honest, brutally honest, almost as if lies and dishonesty horrified her, and I guess in a way they did.
  It was precisely this mixture of beauty and harsh truth what would always prove corrosive to most of her relationships, pushing away men and women the same.
  Truth be spoken, Pristina was nothing fancier than an ordinary nineteen year old girl, she was opinionated, she was vain, she liked pretty men “so long as they had balls” she would often say, and she enjoyed flirting with her friends, “not like a whore though” she too would often say.
  But regardless everything just said, Pristina had no boyfriend, she had many admirers and a lot of “dudes” were after her. One in particular had become really annoying as of late, his name was Patrick Jones, a dorky American boy who would often come all the way from Vegas just to see her, and this is where the story really takes off, one overly dramatic day at the Coachella’s International Music Festival 2015.

THE COACHELLA VALLEY INCIDENT

  It felt like the world could come to an end that evening. The skies were bruised, the ground was wet and it sure was chilly, but Milly Bane or, as she was better known, “The Butterfly” was on stage, the latest prodigy in modern rock and roll music, along with her three very dear musicians, bassist Jorge Gonzalez, drummer James “Stiff” Rows and guitarist Felipe Carta. They’d been rocking hard for almost an hour straight, and the crowd, which resembled a standing army, found itself intoxicated, both literally and figuratively. Of course, not unlike other rock bands Milly’s lyrics ranted about and glorified current state of affairs for the youth, but even beyond that, she did it with such personality and class that appeared to be beyond her years, even rock music connoisseurs would acknowledge her talent. I would say Milly was reminiscent of a luxury watch, dreamy and sparkling on the outside, yet you had to appreciate the inner engine that drove her, the history, the symbology, the spirit, and the mysticism around it, to truly understand why she had become so popular so quickly, because as opposed to Pristina... everybody loved Milly.
  To celebrate Pristina’s birthday, her two best friends, Maria Palacios and Loren Cooper, had taken her to the Coachella Music Festival. This year, her favorite band Milly Bane and the Panty Melters was playing their new album “Ravished”, of course Pristina and her friends were having a blast at the very front line. “OH MY GOD SHE IS A GODDESS!!!” Pristina yelled in total excitement. “I KNOOOOOOOW!” Loren, her best friend, replied on a display of equal bliss. “STOP YELLING! MILLY IS ABOUT TO SAY SOMETHING!” Maria, her other best friend, yelled back at them both, only barely containing her glee.
  The three young rocker girls were looking up the stage from the very center, Pristina who was in the middle of her two friends, was wearing jeans, a black leather jacket and an aqua blue top, under her right sleeve a small golden watch on a thin NATO strap can be seen. To Pristina’s left was Loren wearing a black turtle neck blouse, a mini skirt and boots as well as a giant smile, and to her right was Maria Palacios wearing a dark pink dress and a brown leather purse.
  Right after Pristina’s eyes aim back at the band, Milly Bane started walking closer to the front end of the stage, her eyes staring at the distance. “The band and I are taking a ten minute break, thanks to everyone for coming” “Oh, that’s what she was going to say.” Maria groaned in disappointment. Loren seemed a bit upset about having to wait, but Pristina appeared to be rather relaxed and kept quiet. “Well I guess we can’t really go anywhere, people would take our spot.” Loren pointed out while still looking up the stage. “I’m hungry” Replied Maria as she touched her stomach in pain. “I told you to eat something on the way here!” Loren scowled. As both girls went on with their argument, Pristina continued to space out. “Don’t worry Pris, he won’t come here” said Lauren who had noticed Pristina’s long face. Pristina quickly glances back at Loren and Maria who are now worried about her. “I’ll punch his face if he dares to show up here” Maria’s sweet voice assured Pristina who then just shook her head and rolled her eyes in a fake act of indifference. Immediately after, and almost like out of a comedy sketch, as soon as Pristina’s eyes stopped rolling, an obnoxious and juvenile voice screeched in the distance.
“PRISTINA!”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” Muttered Loren in complete disbelief and disgust.
“It’s Patrick” Maria immediately points out with her cute and feminine voice.
  Among the water bottle holding crowd, at five feet four, a blonde and actually not bad looking young man is shoving his way into the area where the three girls are standing. Pristina is still facing the stage but Maria and Loren are looking at the guy like they’ve just seen an apparition.
“Pristina! Pristina!” repeated the blue eyed boy. “Oh my god I’m cursed...” the annoyed redhead told herself. “I brought some churros” said the boy. As Pristina continues to ignore Patrick, Loren steps in in desperation and annoyance. “Dude!, as a fellow human being, I ask you, Do you have any idea how pathetic you are making yourself look?”. “...Ha, you’re funny Lauren” Muttered Patrick through a stupid smile until all of a sudden Pristina turns around and faces him, he can finally see her menacing stare, as if hiding behind her hair. She walked towards him, at this point, even Patrick seemed bewildered by this unexpected act, suddenly his distracted grin turns into a slightly opened mouth, then she spoke.
“I don’t know why you insist on a friendship that was never there, and I no longer wish to talk to you”  Patrick, eyes wide open, still couldn't believe what was happening, even her low pitched voice felt as if not a girl but a man was talking to him. “I hope your balls will drop someday and you stop being a bitch, now go make a song about that” All of a sudden, Maria received a bag full of recently bought churros and then saw the blonde dork boy run away from her reality, and his own. Everything happening in an almost perceptible slow motion through a horde of people laughing at the unfortunate scene. Pristina sees him off with a numb stare, the stupidity of the scene offended her beyond words, nothing aggravated her more than useless drama.
“That was cruel” Maria pointed out while chewing a churro. “So what, he’s a creep” Said Lauren, still disgusted and looking in the direction Patrick had just fled.
It was dark now but lights were back, red lights to be exact, they started moving about, the stage, the spectators, and of course the three girls, still at the very front, the show is about to continue, and Milly is back on stage, Carta has begun playing his acoustic guitar, and it’s a beautiful tranquil music.
“I see you all now before me, covered in blood... delicious, I feel content tonight, you all feed my needy heart, I am glad to feed yours” Said Milly on a husky voice as she comes from the dark into the stage”
  At the far edge of the crowd, the show goes on in the distance, Patrick has finally shoved his way out, his mind is a wreck and all he can think of is escaping. Still with watery eyes, the young boy looks back at the stage where Milly Bane is performing and sees people having a blast, enjoying life while he barely struggles to accept his stark empty world. Then “that fucking music” started playing, the music he would hear only because she liked it, the music that made him feel closer to her, the music that gave him hope, the music that evoked the drama he had become so addicted to, the story he had insanely constructed within the narrow of his gray matter. Then he heard a voice. “I told you, Didn’t I? She is evil. She enjoys seeing you suffer.”
  Patrick frowned and clenched his teeth as warm tears started welling out uncontrollably.
“She wants you to rot in the ground, alone... and disgraced.”
Back on stage, Milly Bane caressed the mic as she spoke. “I was born and partly raised in Venezuela. I wrote this bolero in Spanish for my first boyfriend when I was sixteen, we were together for a short but beautiful while, one day he had to go away, I knew I would miss him but I also knew I had learned and grown from the experience, it means a lot to me, it helped me find who I really am. I hope you like it.”

No me diste tiempo
para aprender del amor
para aprender del temor
para entender el dolor

Pero ahora se bien
cual es mi deber
saber olvidar,
y dejar de correr
saber olvidar
y dejar de correr

Hoy que me quema tu amor
de alguna vez que te senti
hoy que mi alma manchada de ti
ya no me deja distinguir
maldad y bondad dentro de mi

No me diste tiempo
para reir y callar
para vernos con sinceridad
y tambien para llorar

Y tu que me vas a decir
que me dejo llevar
que soy tan ingenua
que no fue tan especial

Pero ahora se bien,
cual es mi deber,
saber apreciar,
y arriesgarme a amar”

  As the song went on, young Patrick shoved his way back to the very front of the stage, almost as if he were swimming against the tide. “Pristina!” Yelled the broken hearted. The young girl frowned as she turned to see behind her, she didn’t understand what was going on. “I never knew hate before you!!!” yelled the little man before pulling out a .38 from his jacket.
“Ahora se bien, cual es mi deber, saber apreciar, y arriesgarme a amar”
BANG!!!
  In front of the stage the crowd had gone wild, people were pulling and shoving each other, Patrick had a gun and people from the crowd were trying to take it away from him, a girl was on the floor, there was blood, nobody knew whose, Milly Bane and her musicians were quickly taken to the backstage by security, everything happened in slow motion for Pristina and then she realized it, she was still standing, covered in blood, static, eyes wide open, perplexed.
People finally started running away as the mad boy randomly aimed his gun at everybody. Security finally tackled Patrick while he was distracted, he seemed to have strength beyond his appearance really giving a hard time to the wardens trying to get a hold of him, finally he was overwhelmed.
Pristina was still in shock when she looked down to Patrick’s face on the ground. She looked at him and his uncontrolled rage, then a little bit too late, she finally "got it".
“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”
  A powerful scream coming from Patrick’s mouth sent a giant shock wave blowing Pristina up in the air and smashing her against the stage. The boy shook off the wardens with such force they too found themselves flying through the air. Pristina crashed on stage, screams could be heard from the public area and then she was slowly opening back her eyes, as she did she saw a blur getting up on stage from the front edge. She was able to see “him” approach, she closed her eyes for a second, then she opened them back completely. Patrick was right in front of her, holding a gun, as if possessed by the devil he carefully aimed this time, and on a bizarre voice said. “Today’s angst shall be tomorrow’s bliss. Your pleasure, somebody else’s pain, your pain, my most dear pleasure”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
  Bullets flew, the stridency of the exploding caps, an orgasm for the resented, and then... thunder...
...“What?” mumbled Patrick. The bullets still floating between the two as the smoke continued to dissipate. Suddenly, a lightning bold hit the stage. Before Patrick’s confused red eyes, the "lost champion", the "last heroe", right there in front of his hurting eyes, his idol, Julian of Clubs, Patrick had been a fan of him since childhood, he would recognize that uniform anywhere, any day, and the silhouette of his hero was a powerful scene, only it couldn't be him, Julian of Clubs hadn't be seen in sixteen years. So he aims again, now at his hero.
     The screaming had stopped, people were paralyzed now, in awe, it was as if time had stopped, in this world, the old age of heroes resonated greatly in everyones heart, people knew, their world had once been on the line, and it was the fighters who had saved them, there was no higher symbol of respect and dignity around the globe than the Armored Hearts agents. Clubs moved towards Patrick, the possessed began to tremble, he fired a few more rounds until he was out of bullets but none hit their target.
"A black heart" said the Clubs.
    "What do you know?" Replied the boy on eyes about to burst into tears. Suddenly, Julian grabbed the boys right hand, still aiming the gun. The Armored Heart's face could be seen through the orange visor, severe stoic eyes. The gun fell to the floor, and Patrick couldn't release his weapon no matter how hard he tried. "I know you don't mean harm, those who would like you to think so, do". Patrick's eyes suddenly opened wide. "What difference does it make now?" said the boy. "Everything man..." replied the hero.
    Julian crushed Patricks wrist, an invisible, now visible watch, broke and fell to the floor, suddenly Patrick's evil powers went away sending him to the floor, unconscious. Pristina was able to see the complete scene from behind Julian and continued to be speechless. Following Patrick's passing out, Julian turned to Pristina, but Pristina was too weak from the previous blow and passed out too, only being able to see Julian running to her aid as her sight faded out. "GIRL! ARE YOU OK?! WAKE UP!"
​
           “So what happens once you turn twenty five?, Is that the end? Or is it when you are thirty? Or forty?, forty will hurt you for sure, right? Oh my god! When are we supposed to stop being afraid?! When the hell do we become mature individuals in fucking control of our emotions!?.... Well, one thing I know for sure, that one day I will be old, and I won’t be what’s new anymore, but I won’t remember these days as the best. This! is not my time. Fuck that…. It’s ALWAYS my time… and it always… will… be… my time.”

-Milly Bane