Exit
[A/N: This is written on a dare from my best friend and annoyance in life, Liza-San. And I'm writing this at 8:35 at night from scratch about those 'exit' signs in public buildings, so it sounds crazy. And pointless. What else is new? Quick, *cheerful* vignette, that *will* definitely be reworked sometime in the future.]
It flickered, filled my vision with the stark red light.
Blood red. The color. Of the light from the sign, that is. Or it could just be the blood filling my eyes.
I've been a joker – a performer all my life.
Time to . . . . exit. Stage left. Right.
Whatever you call it.
I failed drama class, anyway.
Rachel's sobs are in my head, painfully apparent.
Xena – Xena, I force out, trying not to black out from the pain. D-d-don't – uh, tell my dad . . . . tell him I – tell him I'm -
No one else. Not Cassie, not Tobias, not Ax not anyone else. Just good ol' Xena, who insisted on coming, 'cause she saw me sneaking out of my house, and understood what I was going through.
Should have told Jake I was going – should have told him. Didn't, 'cause Mom was there no not Mom Visser One difference there got to think thoughts getting all confused mixedupalltogetherinajumblejumblejumble.
I'm panting, great gulps of air shooting through my lungs.
T-t-tell Dad – tell him I'm dead, don't let him grieve don't please - I know I'm maunding. Blood loss, some clinical part of my brain thinks.
I didn't want Jake to know what happened to me, so I went to face Mom all alone, and oh, Hork-Bajir there and it stabbed me all over my stomach and there's no time to demorph and Rachel, will you stop crying 'cause I'm going to be ok cause this is all a big laugh cause everything's so funny cause I killed my mother and all, and I'm dying and Mom's dead and dead and dead.
Funny, and I can't stop laughing as my blood ebbs away from me and there's nothing I can see except for the stupid screwed up sign in front of me.
The sign.
The sign flickers in my eyes, the bright light the only thing I can see. Everything's going black . . . .
All I can see is that one word, flashing and burning with it's crimson fire that seems to mean so much all of a sudden.
'Exit' . . . . .
[A/N: Well? Uhrm, since I'm a modest person, 'mail me at anifuture@hotmail.com. All flames will be used against you in the Prozac Unit series. And my insanity in general is hosted at http://anifuture.hypermart.net.]