Just Like Her

3am. Waiting at the bus stop. With her.
I ignore everyone else.
My best friend.
Maddie.
She snorts at me, and fiddles with her lip ring.
I don't have one.
I would get one, just to be like her.
My foot taps impatiently.
I am not dressed for this bus stop.
Plain brown hair. Ballet flats. Lipgloss. Perky smile.
Maddie has torn jeans, dyed black hair, and a couple of cigarettes in her front pocket.
The bus jerks in, doors opening wide.
The bus driver is old and worn, a piece of notebook paper that's seen better days.
The only other person on that bus is a sleeping college girl, so skinny she's drowning in her over-sized sweatshirt. Throwing up is not the answer to dropping the freshman 15.
I really want to sleep.
Envelope myself into a warm cocoon, hibernate, and not come out until I'm mature and an adult like Maddie is. Even if she's only 14, she's so cool. She doesn't take s**t, she stands up for herself, and is way better than me.
Sigh.
The bus moves along, the city sweeping by. Buildings and clubs all shutting down for the night.
We arrive at our destination. The circle. A desolate place of absolute emptiness where kids choose to tend to their desires.
Which, means getting high and smoke till they have cancer riddling every bone and muscle in their body. I never smoke, never get high.
I would if Maddie asks me to.
She never does.
She just lights her cigarette and talks about nothing.
I sit there and nod.
I kind of hope Daniel comes today.
I think I'm in love with him.
But being in love isn't cool at the circle today.
"Hey, wanna try something?" A fifteen year old asks. His hood covers the first half of his face, and I can only see a wicked grin.
"What?" Maddie asks, giggling.
"Russian roulette."
Whoa.
"Here? Nu uh, the po po will catch us," she says.
"Not here. At my place. Basement."
"Cool. Come on, Mare!" She tells me, and pulls me along.
That's how I end up in a random guy's basement with about six other people.
Two bullets. Don't know why.
"Only one dies tonight," the guy said. "Once one dies, the game's over."
Holy s**t.
First one picks it up. Not even hesitating to pull the trigger.
Click.
Air.
Still alive.
Next one.
Click.
Air.
Still alive.
The gun exchanges hands. Get's passed on to me. Warm.
My hand shakes. Maddie stares, biting her lip ring.
I take a deep breath.
Click.
Air.
Still alive.
Maddie licks her lips.
"My turn!" she shouts, and grabs the gun from me.
She holds it up, smiles, and clicks.
I don't hear air.
I hear a bang.
It echoes and shatters my heart.
Blood splatters onto my cheek and I make no move to wipe it off.
Maddie is a corpse now, one bullet extra.
I scream, but no sound comes out.
Maddie.
MADDIE.
Come back, d****t, comeback.
I struggle against the arms holding me back. I kick and I fight.
"Go home," they say.
I can't leave her.
Musn't leave my best friend.
I lunge for the gun, and hold it up to my head.
Just like her.

Author's Note

My friend asked me to write a story about her.
Well, here it is.
Enjoy.

Reviews

[Song]

Is this who I think it's about? Hopefully not :( ...probably not. Anyways, this was really interesting... and of course, it wouldn't be your story if it didn't have a weird theme ;) heheheh...

[Rollin]

Makes me sad that this is about me. But I enjoy it alot(: 'cause Breesley is just that good.

[Brian Kraklau]

just like her, i love it,, great write. definately a fav

[Bella-Marie]

Wow.
I really liked that. Very morbid. Well-written and scary as hell.
Excellent work.

[roarke]

hmm. A story of the crowd that gets their "kicks" from the mouths of babes.... it's an on going generational story, only the names and faces change, the drugs and methods of destruction stay the same.... strange.
It's the survivors that tell the story and no matter how well they tell it...... it ends the same, time after time, after time again.
I wish to god it was only a story.