overdose: echo

mercy ;

Y'know, the more I think about it, the more I think I'm more of a scorpio. 

Like, I know zodiacs are mostly about when you're born, but that's just the suggestion -- like wearing a bra or drinking in class. Besides, Lilla is more of a virgo than I am, so she can just have the whole sign. She's boring like one; there's just something about scorpio's that really convinces me I'm somewhere on that spectrum. Probably the sex. I click my tongue as my dad talks, watching the clenching of his jaw, I think he was a drug dealer at one point. 

"And no drinking, Mercy, we care about you-"

Never mind, no way in hell. 

He's never done anything cool in his life, probably, like Lilla and the twins and my mother -- dear god. They're all virgos, fucking virgins. "I'm just goin to the center," he never really stops, y'know? Just one of those parents who ramble on for longer than they need to, like I get it! I've gotta stop having sex with homeless men on the side of the train turnpike out in public while the sun is still up! Jokes, jokes, I'm not that cathartic. Not the right word, like a cataract you know? Like the thing on your eyes that makes you blinder than Arbor Halt; I mean, Lilla might say I'm a cataract. But I have taste, and my favorite flavor is money.

Father Anthony throws a jacket at me and I slam the door behind me, skipping down the doorsteps; I just really wanna get laid right now. It's that scorpio sun, I'm telling you. White tennis shoes clicking against the pavement, scrapped knees and busted knuckles, one of the twins call my name for me to walk with her but like, fuck that shit. I don't have time to go babysitting freshmen, I'd rather actually be productive. My nails dig into a bag of gummy worms, pace walking to the center as fast as I can to ignore them. 

To clarify, I don't really hate them.

I just don't like them. 

Like, at this point it's just second nature to ignore them -- I've been doing it for so long. Never have I ever really tried to get along with them, considering I popped out my mom's fat vag arguing with a twin sister, there's never really been a need to learn. I heave at the gym doors, "fuck," having an ass this fat is catching up to me; I'm too young for back pains. My hands press into my knees, heaving over and breathing. 

If I was ever in the games, I'd most likely die, huh. 

Sounds like a party. 

I straighten up (ha) and walk into the bitch like there's dynamite in my hands, Mercy, Mercy. The taste of neon fruit punch and vodka in the back of my throat and I can't quite swallow either; maybe I should actually do something. My parents are wasting their good money on putting my sisters and I through this program, I might as well actually- nah that sounds boring. It's cold as fuck in here. The gym's tune whispering in my ear, nothing to rave to but it's better than listening to the moaning of weak white dudes try to have a spit match over who's straighter. 

That's the problem with this district; I wrap my hands around a throwing axe. Barely anybody knows how to let their fuckin tits hang loose -- it leaves my hand, one single throw and I don't watch it land. They're all just fucking boring rich kids who think it's a sport training to die. I try to catch eyes with the closest girl, the axe drops and clatters against the ground. 

Well, fuck. 

I never said I was a career, okay.

"Aye, blondie!" 

She's cute, how do I get close without being weird. 

"Mind helping me," I bend over, knees straight and arching my back as I pick up the axe -- let's get sexual.