Living Death

A Story by ChibiKong

Mika walked into her apartment with her grocery in a paper bag,she could feel it starting to tear. She walked up to her mailbox opening it as all of her food fell down to the grown, her ice cream crashing open covering her food in milky sap. Mika seriously grabbed the envelope from her mailbox and running up the steeps leaving her food to spoil. She was growing tired of this kind of things happening to her. Why was it so hard for her to do well in her life. Mika was trying to get her book published Scissors, a book about a young gay man trying to make his way to the top of the hairstyling industry. it was meant to inspire the gay community but unfortunately no one would touch it with a ten foot pole.

Mika opened her apartment door laying herself on the couch. she looked to her coffee table her manuscript lay their haunting her.

“You won't amount to anything.” the voice of her father echoed in her head.

He was right if only she had listened to him maybe life would have turned out better of her. she let out a life. Fat chance she thought to herself. The memories of her father came rushing back into her mind. The way he would sit there drunk on his chair screaming and hollering at her mother who wasn't even there. When he got angry he would throw his empty beer bottles at her, some of the times they were full depending on how mad he was that day. The thing she remembered most was the day she let him. Mika’s father had found her kissing another girl in her room. He had gotten so angry that he had put batteries in a sock and beat her with it. She ran away after that.

Mika was only 15 and had no family. She would wander the streets asking for food trying to earn money. She was alone she had no one to comfort her or tell he she was doing a good job, but it wasn't much different from normal she was always alone to begin with. Then one day when she was ducked down in a store entrance a man came and took her in. His name was Alfonso. He gave Mika a place to live a job and an education. Alfonso was the one who inspired her to write, he was a godsend until one day. She just turned 18 Alfonso took her out to dinner and had to much to drink. Mika drove them home and later that night he came into her room and forced himself on her. It was the worst thing she endured in life.

Mika’s head jumped off the couch pillow, she had dozed off and the memories of her past had made her sick to her stomach. Mika ran to her bathroom as a violent display of different colors poured from her mouth to the toilet bowl. Mika felt a soothing hand rub her back and a familiar tune being hummed. One more burst of color came from her mouth as she lifted her head and saw the visitor.

Alfonso sat there smiling at her.

“Alfonso ? But … but … you’re dead I went to your funeral.” Mika distanced herself as tears of fear ran down her face. Alfonso he was much older when he died, this wasn’t right.

“My darling Mika beautiful things happen when we are alone. No?” He said reaching for her. Mika ran and pushed past him, but it felt more like she went through him. She slammed the bathroom door behind her when she heard yelling from the living room.

“Mika! Why are you slamming doors?” The angry disheartened voice called. Mika walked to the living room, the stagenet scent of smoke filled the air and the stench of liquor was repulsive. Mika spotted her father's chair in the living room and he along with it.

“Mika,” her father said, “ Get me another beer!”

“What!?!” She was standing in befuddlement.

“DON’T MAKE ME GET THE WHIP!!” Her father yelled throwing an empty beer bottle at her.

Mika ran into the bedroom, hopefully she would be safe from her past ghosts. She slammed this door as well. There stood in front her, Zack the hair stylist from her novel crying. She was confused by what was happening.

“Why Mika, why aren’t I good enough? Why did you have to write me so poorly?” Zack cried. He was right, why couldn’t she write him better, why did she lack the skill to portray him properly?

“I’m sorry.” she muttered under her cries of fear and pain. It was he that Mika realized the gun in Zack’s hand.

“No,” she thought “he can’t!” Zack looked at the gun and blew out his brains. The bloody chunks splattered all over her floors walls and sheets.

She had gone mad! She ran out of her room screaming and ran to her living room one more time. She searched through her drawers for her snub nose revolver and the 32 ammunition to go with. Loading a single round, know exactly what she had to do, she cocked the gun. In one short moment that that lasted a lifetime, with the flinching of her trigger finger she logged the lone round deep into her skull. Where it embezzled itself and taking with it all her hopes, dreams, and fantasies. Including those once so real demons of the mind. Lying in a pool of her blood next to her coffee table, with an envelope for the approval for her novel to be published.