If this is really choppy and the ending sounds rushed it's because it is and it was... but please feel free to tell me so in a R E V I W ! ;).
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Hey babe, it's me. Obviously. I mean you have caller id, of course you know it's me. Anyways I know I just dropped you off but I was wondering if we were still going to Halo tonight? You know the new bar? I'm sure we are. I mean we always hit the new bars. Because you know we're wicked cool like that, oh I just love this song! 3Oh!3 is ah-mazing. I think even you could appreciate them. Anyways call me later because I already like miss you and shit. Sad I know. Anyways love you, bye. Oh this is Caity by the way. But if you didn't know that I'd have to kick your ass. Seriously. I could if I wanted to. Really I could. Okay seriously I'm going this time, kay? Bye babe.
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She's not supposed to be here. This is wrong and dirty and stupid but it feels so goodgoodgood. His hand is rough against hers and he's yanking her towards him. She complies because, hey that'll give her what she wants.
She's in the back of a dirty orange van with rust and holes and dents. The driver is so stoned that he can't even talk properly but she doesn't give a shit because pretty soon she'll be that high too. And then none of this will matter anymore.
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Hey bitch, you haven't called me back, what's up? Okay I realize it's only been… an hour but still you always call me back in twenty minutes tops. This is going to sound stupid but I'm kind of worried. Is everything okay? It's not your mom is it? Well call me, kay? Love you. Oh this is Caity again. Duh.
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Nobody back home knows about this side of her. Okay one person does but he'll keep his mouth shut. He has to if he wants to keep getting what his sick twisted little mind wants. Men are pigs. People would call her a whore if they knew. If they knew how she used sex to get her way, to get what she wants. But she's not the one who will do anything for it. So really, who's the whore?
The van isn't exactly a smooth ride and it's starting to give her a headache. She grabs her purse and begins to dig through it roughly. She finally finds her cigs and she lights up and takes a deep inhale. She'll never understand why smoking is legal, everything else relaxing is.
She curls into herself and clenches her eyes shut. Just her and the smoke. It's like heaven.
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Okay so I've decided that you're probably with a guy. Because that's usually the only time you forget to call…slut. I'm just kidding. You know I love you, even if you are a skank. But anyways I just wanted to let you know that this song reminds me of you. Oops I did it again, I played with your heart got lost in the game, oh baby baby. Okay, I'm done. We'll leave the singing to you. Britney's got nothing on you bitch. Love you, call me. And just in case you're like retarded or something, this is Caity.
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The sun is starting to set and it makes the van glow redredred. It reminds her of Caitlyn and she wants to cry or be sick or scream because if there's one person who can make her want to change, it's Caitlyn. She's the only person she really loves besides herself and the only person she'd give up her own selfish wants for. Only not this time. Because this time it just might kill her to let go. To pretend any longer.
She loves Caitlyn. Caitlyn is her everything. Caitlyn is the one who picked her up after her brutal fights with her bitch of a mother or the one to wipe away the mascara stains when her bastard of a father doesn't show up again. Caitlyn's the one that cleans up her drunken messes and backs her up in her numerous catfights. Caitlyn is her everything.
But even Caitlyn doesn't know all her secrets.
And if she has anything to do with it, she'll never find out.
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It's Caity. Okay, where are you? Shouldn't we be getting ready? Don't tell me I have to put on my glitter eye shadow and lime green fishnets on by myself. And whose glittery platform shoes am I going to wear if not yours? Seriously, pick up. I'm going to start getting ready. You're probably sleeping or something and I'll need to be ready when you call me tweaking out about how you only have an hour to get ready and need my undivided help. So call me babe.
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The van creaks and creaks and its gentle swaying is desperately trying to lull her into a lullaby. She wishes she could surrender, let it take her and drown her and beat her until it spits her back out but she doesn't know how to anymore. She doesn't know how to let anything just happen anymore.
The control is addicting and once she found it she never really learned how to let it go. In so many ways it controls her and how fucking ironic is that? She's never been a fan of irony, seeing as how it's constantly raining on her parade.
The sunset fades and black seeps into the van and wraps around them all in a smothering blanket. She breathes a sigh of relief.
The suffocating black is all she knows.
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Damn darling, you must've been tired. I decided I'd just let you sleep and we could go to the club a different time. And don't be upset. I didn't want to go without you, it just wouldn't be the same. Love you, sweet dreams.
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She eventually drifst off into that half asleep, half awake state where she has crazy ass dreams but is still all too aware of what's happening around her. It's a bit like being high. So she thinks she'd like it more but she doesn't, she hates it. It's in this space that the truth always comes up and unleashes itself onto her. It's here where her logical excuses and lies and denials don't mean shit.
She thinks that a place where she can't even lie or pretend to herself must be hell.
Naturally this is the only place where she can get any sort of relaxation.
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Hey, I'm sorry, I know it's before noon on a well, day. And I'm sorry, really. But I just heard this song and it's so you! I don't understand how you can't like Taking Back Sunday, they're good. Seriously. Much better than Lady Gaga, don't get pissed I know how much you love her and I'm not trying to convert you, I promise. Anyways call me when you wake up, kay? Love you biatch. Bye.
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He's kissing her neck and down down down and she wants to kick and punch and scratch him. But she knew the deal. She knew what she was signing up for when she took his hand and followed him into the bus. So many people think she's a stupid little rich girl but she's not as naïve as they'd all love to believe.
She knows the games. She knows the rules. She knows how to cheat and win. She knows what she's giving up in the end. And she knows how to play. She just doesn't know if she'll be able to survive it all in the end.
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Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Guess what?! Jason dumped Mitchie for some redhead. She's totally freaking out and I know you don't like her, so I guess you're probably thrilled, but she's totally freaking out. Like I always thought she'd be a crier, you know? Because she's kind of weak and spineless, but no she's totally going all psychotic on his ass! And if I didn't feel so bad for her, this shit would be hilarious. Oh who am I kidding? It is hilarious. You'd love it. Seriously. So call me so we can gape at all of the insane things coming out of her mouth and flying from her hands. Jason's shit is getting rocked! Love you, miss you. Call me.
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They pass the bowl around in the van and she realizes it's a little crowded. There's four guys and two other girls. There's Buzz, the driver. He's quiet and always stoned. His dreads are black and his eyes are a murky brown, like muddy water. His nose is crooked and he's small and skinny. He reminds her of a bulldog. Then there's Rod. He's the one that steals all the cars. He's also short and skinny but his hair is light blond and shaved close to his head. His blue eyes would be pretty if they weren't so cold.
Rake is big and bulky, like a body builder, he's always smiling with dimples and he honestly reminds her of a teddy bear. His brunette locks are curly and his blue eyes are warm. He's hot and she knows she won't mind it when she has to fuck him. Then there's Q, and he's who she came with. Tall, lanky, buzzed black hair, bright blue eyes, and a wicked scar on his cheek, he's one fucking sexy bad boy. But there's a reason girls stay away. He's dangerous. Which is why she likes him.
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Caity again. Are you grounded? Did like your mom decide to actually act maternal? Well there's a fucking shock. Anyways I miss you. And if it is your schizo mother that's keeping you away from me, then call me and I'll sneak into your room and we can cross state lines and shit. Kay? Love you.
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The girls are pretty. Which is good. Because she'll probably have to do shit with them too. She remembers that the redhead was introduced as Vic. Her hair is bright and long and straight. Her cheekbones are high and her eyes are wide and she has the whole waif look going on. She could've been a model if the whole cokehead thing was in, which unfortunately for her isn't.
Then there's the brunette. She's gorgeous as well but she'll all small and pixie light. Her hair is a sleek angled bob and it always seems to be perfectly in place. Even after she was snorting lines earlier. There's something in her eyes, her pale blue eyes that lets you know she's a lot more dangerous than Vic. It's the cold dead look.
The one that you see every time you look in a mirror.
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Hey, this is Shane. Caitlyn's worried about you. She keeps checking her phone to see if you've called or even texted. So can you please just text a 'I'm fine' to her so she doesn't have to be tweaking out? Thanks.
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She's soon floating in the world above her own. Nothing bad can really happen to her here. She inhales and lets the smoke out through her nose. She then giggles. She feels like a big bad bull. The smoke fills up the van and swirls swirls swirls around her.
She knows it's wrong. But compared to a lot of the shit she does. This is nothing.
So she'll just push it aside and wait for the shit to hit the fan.
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Hey it's me again. And I'm starting to get really worried. I mean this isn't like you. Where the fuck are you? Can you just call me please? Please? Damn, I hate crying. So will you please call me? So I can stop thinking of all these ridiculous scenarios? Well, bye. Call me.
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She wakes up and her mouth feels as though it's stuffed with cotton. She's thirsty and her throat itches and her hair is greasy. Her stomach rumbles and as she stretches her body she hits the brunette's stomach with her toe. She doesn't bother to apologize and instead grabs another cigarette and lights up.
She watches the flames eat away at the white. It glows bright red for a second before turning black and ashy and breakable.
She wonders when the flame got a hold of her.
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I haven't heard from you in a while. Caitlyn is getting really freaked out and quite frankly so am I. I don't want to tell but if you don't show up pretty soon I think I'm going to have to… this is all just so fucked up. I don't know what to do anymore. Just call Caits and then I'll know you're okay and we can just keep it all in between me and you, kay? Well bye.
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They're finally at the house and it's a pit. But it's also everything she expected it to be so at least she's not disappointed. She stumbles out of the van and onto the cracking sidewalk. The paint is peeling off and the roof is sagging. The glasses are cracked and the fence is half way down. The whole street looks like an ad for why you shouldn't do everything she does. There isn't grass, just dirt and the door is half way off. She falls right in and all she can smell is drugs, sweat, and puke.
It's the most at home she's ever felt.
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It's Caitlyn again. I'm sure you're getting pretty sick of my messages so you should just return them. Plus there's a great sale going on at Willow's. I'll go with you and won't complain once if you call me back by tonight. And I'll even tell you how pretty you look and which color goes best with your skin and hair. Fuck I'll even go bikini shopping and take MySpace pictures with you. Just call me. Love you.
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The whole house is dimly lit and she can barely see the faces of the people next to her. Thank god. It doesn't matter anyways. She leans towards the table and sniffs sniffs sniffs the white pixie dust that makes everything better. And she slams shot after shot. And she takes everything and anything headed towards her. She's well on her way to a better place.
The only place that matters.
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Why haven't you called Caitlyn? I'm getting fucking pissed. Call Caitlyn or I'm gonna say fuck it to our little arrangement and your dirty little secret will be plastered on every tabloid. And we both know you don't want that. After all mommy dearest would be so disappointed. So get off of whatever you're on and give Caitlyn a fucking call.
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Everything is so much prettierprettierprettier when she's high. And the colors all swirl around her and they explode and flicker and make her gasp in awe. She watches as lines blur and all the bad drips drips drips away. Her hand reaches out.
She wants to touch the pretty colors. She wants to touch and hold the pretty colors in her hand. She wants to hold them and stash then away when it gets dark again. She wants to feel this way forever. This light, breezy, high.
It never lasts.
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It's Shane and it's been a fucking week. Caitlyn doesn't even want to call anymore because she's afraid she'll 'overcrowd' you or some bullshit like that but she's freaking the out. She's your best fucking friend, and she needs you right now. And I swear if I have to see her fucking crying one more time I'm gonna rip your hair out. Call her. Now.
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She slips in and out. Between consciousness, between highs. She stays at the dirty breaking house and when she's coherent enough to feel the hunger pang at her stomach she stumbles into the kitchen and eats the crackers or old meat or anything she can find. It's not much. But most times she's in a corner or on the couch. And sometimes when she comes to, she'll be on a bed with faces hovering over her and hurtinghurtinghurting her. But it was part of the deal.
She's just happy she doesn't have to be sober to oblige.
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Please. Please just call me. It's Caity by the way. Can you even recognize my voice anymore? I'm going to call the cops… I just thought you'd want to know. I can't believe I waited this long to call. But I know you weren't taken. I went to your house. Your clothes are gone. All of your things are gone. Our… our peace necklace is gone. You have to come back. That's mine too. Please… just come back and I won't question anything… I just need you back home.
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She's skinny. Too skinny. Skinnier then she's ever been, and being a Pop Princess that's saying something. But it doesn't matter anymore. Not the fact that her hair is matted to her face or that her makeup is smudged and thick or that her clothes are ripped and dirty. Not the fact that she hasn't taken a shower for three days or the last one she had she was in there with another girl and a guy and they touched her and touched her and touched her until she felt too dirty for the shower to really fix anything. None of that matters.
All that matters is that her next hit is coming soon enough.
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Caitlyn called the fucking cops. I'm going to have to tell them, you know that don't you? I'm going to have to fucking tell them everything. Do you really want that? Just call Caitlyn and then we can just forget all of this.
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She's in and out for days. Until somebody is dragging her out by her hair. It hurtshurtshurts but none of that matters. All she can focus on, all she cares about is her next fix. Where it's coming from and how soon she can get it. She's stumbling out of the dirty dank house and into the bright sunlight. It burns her eyes and it burns her soul and she wants it to all go away.
It reminds her of her old life. The bright pretty light that only brought her pain. The fake smiles, the fake everything. She wants the dark. She wants the overwhelming feeling of hopeless despair and crushing suffocation. Because in the dark she knows that there'll be pain. Hurt. But the light gives her false hope and it just shatters her that much more when somebody lets her down.
They always do.
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It's… it's Caitlyn. But you already know that, don't you? You know everything about me. You are my everything. And I thought I was yours. I thought I was the one person you turned to. I thought I was the one person I trusted. But I was fucking wrong, wasn't I? I'm always wrong I guess. And in case you're confused about what I'm talking about, Nate told. He told us everything. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me any of this? I would've understood, I would've. But the fact that you kept me from this, I don't know if I can understand that. Just call me. Okay, just fucking call me.
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She's taken to another house. It's all the same. Peeling paint, lights too dim to really see anything, half-clothed people. She falls into the couch and her nose falls to the counter and she's sniffing away the only thing that really matters.
The only thing that makes her whole again.
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Uhm, hey. It's a, it's a Shane. Caitlyn's a mess. Can you just call her? I… I don't know what to do. You always came before me. Even though she claims to be in love with me, and to need me, it's never been me. You're always the one she turns to when she needs somebody. And I've always loved her enough to just deal with it, you know? But now that you're not here, she's fucking miserable. And I'll do anything if you come back. Come back and fix her. She needs you. And I need her. So please just call her.
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She's touching her and he's smiling in a way that makes her stomach roll. She grabs a joint from one of the guys nearby and takes a long drag. She needs as much self medication as she can get for this. She's on a dirty bed with dirty stains and dirty secrets. She's naked and so are three other girls. Boys are crowding the edge and she's putting on a show for them. She's always putting on a show.
But she'll do anything to keep supplying herself medication.
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It's Nate and I'm… I'm sorry. I had to tell. I didn't want to… but I had to. I know you think that this is a invasion to your privacy but… I'm fucking worried about you. Where have you been? They know everything. They're all looking at me like I'm a pig. And I am. I… I uh, shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that. And I'm sorry. I'll always be sorry.
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She's sober for the first time in… months really. She looks down at the purple and blue bruises on her body. Fingerprints incriminate her and there's more scars then she cares to even acknowledge. She crawls to the kitchen and tries to find something edible. Her bones are protruding out and she's pretty sure mannequins would be jealous. She shoves in the ketchup and peanut butter because they're the only things she can find.
She's always empty. Always has been empty. Nothing can fill it. Nothing can make the raw ache of the emptiness go away. She's empty where her innocence once was and she'd do anything to make it go away. But she knows there's nothing that can bring it back.
But the drugs can make her forget about it.
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I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that you were raped. I'm so sorry that you couldn't tell me. I'm sorry babe. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that the only way to make it go away was with drugs. I'm sorry that Nate made you sleep with him to get them. I'm so sorry that you thought you were only worth your body. I wish you would've told me. I wish I could've helped. I'm sorry that I didn't save you. Forgive me, please. Just forgive me. I... need you. So much. And I'm sorry. Just call me. I love you.
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The humiliation and shame wash over her and suffocate her like a familiar blanket. They're the only friends she really knows inside and out. They're her faithful companions. She wants to shed them like a second skin or the clothes that hide her scars. She wants to shed them but she can't help but cling onto her.
They're the only thing that has ever remained.
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Hey. It's Tess. Tess Tyler. I'm… fuck, I'm not good at this. You know that. We were best friends once. And I heard what happened. And we were best friends once and… fuck, I'm sorry. I uh, I got into that scene too. My story is a little different but the outcome is the same. And if you uh… need someplace to crash. Or money. Or you know, whatever. It's just we were best friends once. And yeah. Well bye.
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She just wants it to end. She wants it all to go away. She's sick of the feelings and the ache. So she takes more and more and more. She sniffs and sniffs and sniffs. And she just tries to forget. And honestly? Fucked up doesn't even begin to cover it.
And it's just not worth it anymore.
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It's Caity, I… I don't know what to say. There's nothing left to say, is there? They found your… they found your body. I saw it. Before they cleaned up. You were so fucked up. Your hair was dirty and matted and there was… so many scars. So many. And your clothes… you were so fucked up. So fucked up. And I miss you. I miss you so damn much. Shane… he keeps trying. To fix me. But I don't want to be fixed. You weren't fixed. And I just don't think it's fair. That nobody was able to save you. And I wish I saved you. I really do. Tess came to the funeral. She didn't dress like a slut or anything. And I talked to her. She gets it, you know? Isn't it fucked up? We were all best friends once. It's too bad that you had to die for her to come back. She's fucked up too. She's broken too. She has your eyes. Those broken eyes. And I need her now. And I'm sorry. She'll never replace you. Nobody will ever replace you. But this is goodbye, isn't it? I won't call anymore. I won't text anymore. But I'll never forget you. Ever. I'll miss you. I'm always going to miss you. Because a part of me died when you did. So until I completely die, I guess this is the end for us. So goodbye. I'll always love you, Ella.
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Okay... please tell me you didn't see that coming... because I didn't see that coming until I added Tess into the story... so s u p r i s e !