[SCREWME]babe.

Too many f*****g thoughts.
Too much f*****g time.

 

A hollow room, damp from the exposure to leaky pipes and moistened earth, holds a girl of twenty. She holds her head low, grazing the floor with the tips of her fingers with one hand as the other holds her upper torso into stability.

Sitting down an old, wooden chair can only do so much for a restless girl.

 

“You know, this happens so many f*****g times that it’s hard to even count.

Days like this where I just want to rip out my old cigs and inhale the death I really didn’t want to run from.

I’m not an r-tard.

Yeah, I said r-tard, gonna do s**t about it?”

 

Before her is a table, items found on her person spread across neatly on the surface. Among them is a pack of cigarettes she claimed to have quit.

 

“I never said I quit, I just said they were old...they are.

This is my last pack of smokes. I took a box from my dear old grand-dad.

Good guy, awful person.

It makes sense.”

 

A phone begins to vibrate, she lets it ring.

Her fingers slide back and forth on the ground, her fingers mimic the movements of a piano player recounting each note and each grand sweep of a classic masterpiece that kids today aren’t able to comprehend.

 

“You know, I have no happy thoughts right now. I still feel happy.

That doesn’t make sense.

I miss him. I have him. I like him.

Three different guys and only two matter. The likable one just looks damn good.

I love being with him which is awful cause I say I love him when I hardly know the guy...I wonder if I mean it at times cause it falls from my lips with such ease.

It really bothers me.

I do love being with him a lot but I don’t want to scare him away, he’s just too good to be true and those type of guys tend to have a way with running away and leaving me in the dust.”

 

Jumping up, she collapses, in one fluid feat.

Like water sliding into a glass.

Laughter ushers violently from her body to the point of tears and pain.

She stops, cleaning herself with the red flannel shirt that hugged her body’s hourglass shape.

As soon as she wipes her eyes, eyeliner and eye shadow smudged and wiped to a “presentably black perfection”.

 

“He’s so nice to me, I don’t want him to go.

He likes me with my solid black eyes and with my naturally dull brown eyes.

He knows that the way I dress is because I like how I like and not I like the attention cause I don’t like attention...I really really loathe it.

Then again, so does the other one, the last one.

So does that guy I can’t but completely f*****g miss.

I can’t help myself. I can’t help the fact that his name is always there.

Always waiting to be said and called out.

That smug son of a b***h know its too which is why he calls me too.

This is why he’s always saying my name.”

 

A sob creates visible shudders, her sigh coming out mangled and pathetic.

All she can do is pull her knees up to her chest and bury her face in it.

At least, that’s what she has displayed.

 

“I don’t like feeling like this anymore.

I just want to find my home.

I just want to belong.

Please.

Make me belong.

Please.

Stop this insanity.”

 

She tries to laugh but it comes out as a choked back cough.

 

“If not, at least, make me insanity.”

 

A few minutes pass by and the girl sits still, staring deeply into the glass before her.

She knows that we are watching. She knows she cannot escape.

Her empty black eyes say so but then again with this distance...

We cannot be sure.

 

A few hours have passed.

She simply sits back and stares, adjusting her position every now and then, rearranging an item or two. The iPod twice. The pack of cigarettes once. The cell phone quite frequently, checking it every ten minutes. The eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara and lipstick all left untouched.

A bag, a book, and a journal have been left in a corner.

She’s made a home out of this, we believe.

 

“You know, I’m not unique.

Go find some myspace b***h.

They scream unique...

Literally.”

 

She is turned away from us, wiping off the dirt from her black jeans.

They are of the skinny category according to research.

She glances back, tousling her hair into an almost agreeable state.

 

“Then again, we’re fucked up as it is.

You’ll find something special soon enough.

We live a crazy world, you sick s***s.

Let’s party till we burn to the damn ground.

 

She turns completely with a-Oh dear god, no.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

November 4, 2009

 

Reports show that the research of subject 3901 have resulted in the death of five more doctors.

While performing the usual consultation after retrieval they were gunned down.

A shot to the skull.

No casings were found and no evidence of a weapon found anywhere.

Documents and tapes show that they had not found the weapon on her person before the examination had begun and she had showed no signs of carrying it until 11:11 pm exactly.

She has escaped once more and must be found immediately.

Do everything possible to bring her back.

We need her alive.

 

[END]

Author's Note

Hm, this is what I come up with from a summer of nothing.
Damn my inability to produce excellence.

Reviews

[bob, small b. aka invs]

this may not rise to the level of excellence, but it certainly is interesting and that always impresses me. the narrative part is quite a nice character profile. the ending is a bit over the top, but has quite an impact. i really did enjoy finding and reading this. one can only take so much unrequited love and vampire wannabe reading in a day. this was a welcome change from what i usually find.

[Bryän]

It's so refreshing to see others that are more interested in matters of the mind under fearful conditions. While some parts of this seemed to be a little awkward and a little too open-ended, this was a very interesting read and I'm glad that I found it.
And thank you for taking interest in my work, it means a lot to me.