I Guess It's All Alright {Clover}
Sept 11, 2012 5:09:09 GMT -5
Post by gamemaker kelsier on Sept 11, 2012 5:09:09 GMT -5
Cause I know that tone.
I remember the first time
we wished upon parallel lines.
Waiting for a friend to call
and say they're still alive.
[/color][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]There's nothing but animalistic pain and fear running through my veins. I'm panting, breath coming out in short, accented gasps, but I don't stop. I'm too afraid to stop. What if he's following me, and what if he actually kills me? I can't stop, not ever. I'm cradling my right wrist in my left, almost sobbing whenever I land too hard on my feet. Every bump or jostle hurts, and there's blood, so much blood. Mom! It hurts! Mom! I want my mother so badly but I don't know how to go to her anymore, or anyone. There is no one who can help me, no one who can save me. I am so alone. I'm afraid, I'm so afraid. All I can do is run, that's every thing. I forget everyone, my father, my mother, and even my brothers. There is nothing left inside of my chest, not a heart, or any veins, just a fear that's blacking everything else out. Just one foot in front of the other until all that's left is the thump, thump, thump of my feet hitting ground and my body pumping away.
"Oi....NOX."
With great sensitivity, I am slipped out of the memory with a thump to the back of the head, and the shout of the old man behind me. In surprise, I almost drop the tray perched delicately on the fingertips of my left hand. Eyes widening, I steady it, and then turn around in annoyance. "Stupid Geezer, I could have dropped your precious merchandise!" Rolling his eyes, we waves me forward impatiently, towards a small table near the front of the shop where a couple of girls sit. Muttering angrily under my breath, I paste on a smile and walk to the table, carefully switching on my porch lights, a sudden charm excluding from every orifice even as I make a mental note to spit in the geezer's tea. I'd been lucky to get the job at the Tea Shop when I first popped up, or at least I thought I was.
Who would have thought that the owner would turn out to be some perverted old man. The girls giggle as I carefully place their tea on the table and I smile the way Carmen taught me to. She said it's pleasant, and makes the customer happy. Mr. King says his business has spiked up since I started work, and he keeps making the uniform tighter and tighter, dumb old man. After setting down the tray with a clatter, I pull off my white gloves with my teeth, and stand at the cash register. It's Carmen's shift in T-minus two minutes, and all she has to do is breeze into the tea shop and I'm out of here. The money's good and all, but I finished being someone's play thing years ago.
I almost felt bad for him, when he came back to himself and realized that he'd gone too far this time. That this time he had bent to hard and the bone had snapped like a twig. They used to be stronger bones, but there are side affects to damage like that, proteins forgotten in an all consuming fear. It used to always be fear back then, nothing but. He looked so sad, his father, when he heard my screams of pain. But that had just been a flash of emotion, before that rage came back, that rage that I am so afraid I'll inherent. That need to create my screams was bigger than the need to silence them, and he didn't stop. He got another kick in before I pushed the door open, and slipped out, shoes forgotten in my haste. I didn't notice my bloody soles until much later.
"Oi.....NOX." Once again, I'm pulled away from that particular memory, thankfully, by a voice calling my name, but it isn't with a back hand but a sashay to the hip, courtesy of one Carmen. She winks at me, five minutes late, and she doesn't care. She shouldn't, seeing as a lot of the time I forget to even show up. She should come later, really. But I'm a drama king that doesn't like to be kept waiting, and she knows that. "I swear," I drawl out, "You just spent the last five minutes waiting outside to piss me off." Knocking my forehead against her's in response, I slip into the back to get out of my monkey suit and into my street clothes. Today's selection is a black trench coat with accentuating black pinstripe pants and a vest over a black cotton shirt. Out of one monkey suit and into another.
"You're just annoyed because you need to feed your nicotine addiction," she teases as I make a beeline for the door. Making a point to turn back and stick my tongue out at her, I head out, immediately pulling out the carton that's always in my breast pocket. It's raining lightly in the twilight of the day, and I turn up the collar of my coat to block the smoke. I half consider going back to my room in the Goravich family house, until I consider the fact that I really don't want to be alone with my thoughts right now. Or with any of my cousins, they can be so very gloomy. No, the only appropriate thing to do would be to find the nearest bar and drink it. I'll go in a minute, but first comes the enjoyment of this cigarette.
I had run all the way to the edge of the woods before stopping, to the tree where my brother died and had started it all. I had screamed at a tree for the first time in my life, hating it, hating the pain that it had caused me the last four years of my miserable existence. Why I had to be the one to deal with it. Why had I always been the one? Even when Chejae had been alive, I'd always been the one to have to explain things. So it only made sense that if my father was going to get mad at anyone, it be me. It made sense to blame me for my mother's depression and my brother's death. Still, it had hurt when he had howled after me, even though he must not have been able to see me anymore, "If you ever come back, I'll kill you. I never want to see your face again." At the time, I didn't understand how my father could hate me so much.
Funny, because now I sure as hell do.
And now all my loves that come back to haunt me.
My regrets and texts sent to taunt me.
I never claimed to be more than a one-night stand
I've given everyone I know
a good reason to go.
My regrets and texts sent to taunt me.
I never claimed to be more than a one-night stand
I've given everyone I know
a good reason to go.