Build God Then We'll Talk
A.N: Here's the sequel to Memories. It's a continuation of what happens after Bubbles leaves Boomer and starts her new life. I don't know how many chapters are going to be in this one, possibly 2-3. Song credit goes to Panic! At The Disco. Please R&R!
Caricature: (n) 1- A representation, esp. pictorial, in which the subject's distinctive features or peculiarities are exaggerated for comic or grotesque effect.
2- A mockery; farce.
Bubbles counted the bills in her lap. About $11 in total. She sighed. Once again, she'd been cheated. She rubbed the roof of her tongue viciously, trying to get the bitter taste out of her mouth. Even when the guy is sweet, the stuff is bitter. With that thought in her mind Bubbles went to the small bathroom, turning on the water. She bowed her head, taking in the terrible taste of the unnaturally yellow tap water as she swished it around in her mouth, spitting it out. The bitter taste was gone but now there was the tangy aftertaste of the water. There was nothing that she could do about that so she came back up again, rubbing her back. She could barely recognize herself anymore. Her skin had the consistency and color of paper and her ribs poked through her clothing to be presented rudely in the warped mirror. Her hair was thinning a bit and her eyes looked like two sunken holes into her head. They had lost their sparkling blue life long ago.
The girl that was standing in front of the mirror was only the ghost of the girl who used to exist. In another time and place, under better circumstances, Bubbles would've mourned for the lost life of an innocent, but the girl who had been aged beyond her years in the land of snow didn't hold the emotion of pity, or grief. She knew suffering and loss and she knew them well. She lay with them every night and they loved her. Not even the male (and occasional female) customers that came strolling through her bedroom door almost every night could love her like those two emotions could, and they most likely never would.
The girl who was Bubbles but at the same time not Bubbles exited the bathroom and went over to her cot, laying down on the back breaking surface. She lay on her stomach and dug her hands underneath the cot and they brushed against something cool and smooth. She grasped onto the object, or tried to anyway because the thing landed on the oak wood floor with a thud that was sure to wake Mrs. Draney downstairs, but no knocking of the broom ever came. The thing rolled out from underneath her bedding with an expert shifting of her fingers and soon Bubbles had the change jar in her grasp, placing her meager money inside. The paper money landed with muffled thumps and took up half of the jar but that was only an illusion. She knew that if she were to count the money it would probably amount to only $55, maybe even less than that.
It was amazing, she had been making her living in the ways of the underground with the tools of her body for almost a year and she couldn't get enough money to make it out of this dump, wherever here was. She wasn't sure. She had never bothered to ask. It wasn't really a concern of hers. She frowned, causing deep lines to engrave itself in her face for the moment. She couldn't really remember…why it wasn't important. It just…wasn't. Snow was building up in her head fast and threatening to bury her thoughts in its blinding, freezing whiteness so she just stopped thinking for a minute, allowing the snow to melt. She sighed, placing her precious ticket to freedom underneath the bed again, curling underneath the thin covers of her makeshift bed once she was done. She was cold, so she curled in on herself tighter, trying to find some warmth in her shell. She closed her eyes and instead of seeing blackness, she saw blinding whiteness. Whiteness, like snow, like the cold like her mistakes. Sharp icicles imbedded herself in her sides and it was only when she banged herself on the head that Bubbles realized that she had fallen asleep and had rolled out of her bed. Cold tears wet her face and Bubbles licked her lips, tasting the saltiness. Her teeth were chattering and Bubbles stood up, swaying. She hopped back into bed, pulling the sheets extra close to her. She tried something that she hadn't tried in a long time; her powers.
She could feel the heat behind her eyes build up and a red haze made everything look as though it were covered in burgundy colored moss, but when she tried to incinerate the sheets in order to warm herself, all she could see was a bright spot of light on the sheets, like she were shining two flashlights on them. She growled, flinging the sheet away in disgust. The heat and lights dimmed and she stayed in bed, curled up like a frozen armadillo. She closed her eyes and whiteness greeted her once again, welcoming her into its chilly arms and rendering her in a moment of icy suspended animation. She accepted the invitation gladly.
In the whiteness, a thought swirled around. It was odd, since she never really thought anymore, and confusing.
I wonder when I'll ever feel warm again.