Wednesday, 31 March 2010
12:19:32 PM (GMT)
It was easy to forget and pretend.
Forget that that accident had happened and pretend that everything was normal. She
could do that. She could pretend that it was all normal, nobody was hurt, and nobody
was dead. She could also pretend that she didn't see. She could forget the
fact that her best friend was.....ugh. Never mind.
Peering at herself in the mirror, she was reminded of the fact that she wasn't who
she used to be three months ago. Her usual shine was missing--in its place was a dull
shine that made her chocolate brown skin look dull. Her old sparkling eyes of brown
mirth were now underlined with bags from restlessness and not being able to sleep.
They weren't even brown now. They were.....different colors. Gray was the nutral
color with interesting swirls of dark green and light blue, fuschia and other colors
deep within them. If people were to look long enough, they would see that she was, in
part, abnormal and a bit scary-looking.
Even her body had changed. Once round, volumptous curves had been a large part of
her body. Now, now, it was just there. Too skinny to do anything. Sure, she still had
her curves, but they were less prominent. Most people only saw the ribs, then they
weren't even looking at the rest. That was if they saw her without the hoodie, jeans,
or whatever other particle of clothing she was wearing that covered all of her body.
She was a skinny, ugly, freak. And everybody knew it.
"Shizz," she growled, glaring at her arm which was marked up by lines and cuts and
brusies from last night. "Look like I got clawed up during a night of hot, fun sex."
She sighed then finished brushing her teeth and washing her face. "Let's
see....make-up or no make-up?"
Why bother? a sarcastic, evil voice whispered in her mind.
She sighed. It was right. Why bother? She was invisible at school, only catching
the attention of the most unpopular people--and even they wanted nothing to do with
her. She looked down at her bed, various clothing covering it. Hoodies, jeans,
leggings, and sweaters. Anything that hid more than it showed. If she could, she
would just go to school wrapped in a thick blanket where nobody could see her. No, if
she could, she wouldn't go to school. But her parents wouldn't allow it because she
had to "get in the swing of things" and to "venture out more" rather than "staying
holed up in your room and listening to that awful music all day and night."
Damn awful sadistic quotes. They were bitches to look at and use.
She finally decided on a depressing black hoodie and a pair of black skinny jeans.
It was 90 degrees outside, and she was going to die during PE, but who gave a damn?
It was about time anyway.
She went downstairs, her untied black high-top shoestrings hitting the ground with
very familair thump. The dog, Rufus, ran upstairs.
"Food! Food! Eat! Eat!" he barked.
It was weird. Being able to talk to animals and actually understand what the hell
they were talking about. And don't mention when they found out she could talk to
them. They just assumed she was Dr. Dolittle Jr., and that she wanted to help them or
deal with him.
It was a fucking nightmare.
"Go hump a tree," she growled to him, moving out the door.
Unfortunately, the big brown lab followed her outside, chattering, "Riley, Riley, I
don't want to hump a tree. I'm having girl problems." And he continued to tell
her about how he met this girl, but she was flirting with this other dog who was
better than him, and not a mutt.
"You know what your problem is, Rufus? You talk to the wrong person! Do I seriously
look like I give a piece of dog's shit? Yeah, you're my dog and everything, but you
really need to go somewhere. You want my advice? Go find another girl! You're a damn
dog! You do weird things. Now. Stop. Talking. To. Me."
Rufus's head bowed and he looked away, eyes drooping. "Harsh."
"Sorry, Rufus. Bad morning."
His ears perked up. "Can I walk you to school?"
She sighed. What would it hurt? "Sure, Rufus. Just don't talk to me."
So they walked up and down her road, him still talking, although not expecting an
answer. She let his voice go into a dull chatter in the back of her mind while she
focused on something else. Something more important. Her dream. More importantly, the
guy in her dream. He was tall and slender, with perfectly ripped abs, and eyes the
color of chocolate, with cinnamon flecks in them. He had the nicest biceps, but the
angriest face. His eyes had tornadoes in them, and his face was one contorted mask of
angry. But he softened the tiniest bit around her. At least in the dream.
His exact words were, "Whenever you see me, stay far away."
She thought that was a bit odd. Most guys are like "Hey, you're hot, stay with me.
NEVER LEAVE!" and are all possessive and needy. No, he actually commanded her to go
away. Oh well. She had no time for guys in her life anyway. Between trying to forget
about the accident, trying to find a way to end the talking animals, and then dealing
with her overbearing parents, she really had no time for stupid boys. And it
showed in the way she dressed--meant to hide every single part of her body.
She neared the gate. Rufus nudged her hand, barking a "Bye, Riley!" and then
running home. She sighed, then entered the place that was set up to torture someone
just like her. It was purgatory.
She held a hand on the gate for a moment as she did everyday. But she never found
the strength or courage to actually ditch. She wasn't that type of girl. Then again,
lately, she wasn't sure what type of girl she was. Maybe the kind who did what they
were told, talked to animals, could read few people's minds, and did various other
odd things. So maybe she was an alien. She laughed at the irony as she looked down at
her black hoodie that said 'Alien' on the back. Hi-fucking-larious.
She slipped through the hall, through the crowds of kids that glared and snickered,
saying, "Ugly, anorexic, hoe-freak," underneath their breath. Not like they thought
she couldn't hear them--they wanted her to hear. It was only because they thought it
was funny when she looked like she was going to cry or get angry. But she never
cried. She was too strong for that. She would never let the enemy win.
Last edited: 31 March 2010