I have no idea where the came from, I was *trying* to write a slash story with Bobby and hank...somehow I came up with this. I think my mind is doing hic-ups.
Bad Daughter
by Raven Lee
June 2002
Cold. I love the feel of coldness against my skin. In sinks in deep, under the layers of flesh and muscle, past vessels flowing with life giving blood, right to my bones.
Chilled to the bones.
Clichéd, yes, I know. But it's a wonderful cliché. It's all too true.
Every bone in my body is cold. I shiver with it, but I also thrive in its feeling.
It's a feeling of being alive. Yes, I know the cold will take away my life, but God! The feeling! Here, now, after all the time spent in warmth, my body swelling with heat, flames I didn't know how to control. And now…cold.
Glorious cold. Wonderful, safe, chilling cold.
I take in a deep breath. It hurts too, a little, when I do that. The iciness going down my throat. My breath shows in the air. A white cloud of mist.
There's a blanket at my feet, a pillow too, beside my clothes. I don't want them. Any of them. I just stand there, amid the hanging racks of frozen beef. I thrive on the cold against every inch of my skin. *Every* inch.
But there's a blanket. And a pillow. Momma wanted me to be comfortable, I guess, so she made Daddy put those in there with me. Eventually, I know the cold will get to me. I won't be able to stand it any more. Then I'll use the blanket. Wrap it around myself. Cover my head with it, so Daddy won't have to see me when he comes to check on me when the store opens again in the morning.
I don't want to think about him seeing me there, lips all blue and eyelashes frozen. I don't want him to look at my face and see his child laying there, dead, because he was too scared to let me live. I just hope he makes Momma stay home. She shouldn't see me like this either, and, knowing her, she'd want to see my face one more time.
It'd be better if they could remember me the way I was. Before I…changed.
Before, when I was a *good* daughter. Before I became a freak. A dirty mutant. When I was a good girl.
I can't blame them for this. Not really. I don't want to die. I want to live. I think everyone has something inside of them, constantly fighting to live. But I don't want my parents to know the shame of having a mutant child. The whole town would know in a matter of days if I lived. My will to live had to be surpassed. I didn't even fight Daddy as he put me in the store's freezer.
I had tried to hug Momma, though, but she moved away, crying loudly. She didn't want me to touch her. A bad daughter didn't deserve to hug a loving mother. So, I walked in here willingly. The last voice I heard was Daddy, telling Momma that he'd have to get rid of all the meat in the cooler now that his mutant daughter was going to contaminate all of it. So, I stay away from the meat. I don't want to cause them any more problems.
I'm already a bad daughter.
See Ya!
Rave
Check out the new site, Full Moon Rapture, fics, magik, cooking and more http://www.dreamwater.net/ravelee/index.html
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Bad Daughter
by Raven Lee
June 2002
Cold. I love the feel of coldness against my skin. In sinks in deep, under the layers of flesh and muscle, past vessels flowing with life giving blood, right to my bones.
Chilled to the bones.
Clichéd, yes, I know. But it's a wonderful cliché. It's all too true.
Every bone in my body is cold. I shiver with it, but I also thrive in its feeling.
It's a feeling of being alive. Yes, I know the cold will take away my life, but God! The feeling! Here, now, after all the time spent in warmth, my body swelling with heat, flames I didn't know how to control. And now…cold.
Glorious cold. Wonderful, safe, chilling cold.
I take in a deep breath. It hurts too, a little, when I do that. The iciness going down my throat. My breath shows in the air. A white cloud of mist.
There's a blanket at my feet, a pillow too, beside my clothes. I don't want them. Any of them. I just stand there, amid the hanging racks of frozen beef. I thrive on the cold against every inch of my skin. *Every* inch.
But there's a blanket. And a pillow. Momma wanted me to be comfortable, I guess, so she made Daddy put those in there with me. Eventually, I know the cold will get to me. I won't be able to stand it any more. Then I'll use the blanket. Wrap it around myself. Cover my head with it, so Daddy won't have to see me when he comes to check on me when the store opens again in the morning.
I don't want to think about him seeing me there, lips all blue and eyelashes frozen. I don't want him to look at my face and see his child laying there, dead, because he was too scared to let me live. I just hope he makes Momma stay home. She shouldn't see me like this either, and, knowing her, she'd want to see my face one more time.
It'd be better if they could remember me the way I was. Before I…changed.
Before, when I was a *good* daughter. Before I became a freak. A dirty mutant. When I was a good girl.
I can't blame them for this. Not really. I don't want to die. I want to live. I think everyone has something inside of them, constantly fighting to live. But I don't want my parents to know the shame of having a mutant child. The whole town would know in a matter of days if I lived. My will to live had to be surpassed. I didn't even fight Daddy as he put me in the store's freezer.
I had tried to hug Momma, though, but she moved away, crying loudly. She didn't want me to touch her. A bad daughter didn't deserve to hug a loving mother. So, I walked in here willingly. The last voice I heard was Daddy, telling Momma that he'd have to get rid of all the meat in the cooler now that his mutant daughter was going to contaminate all of it. So, I stay away from the meat. I don't want to cause them any more problems.
I'm already a bad daughter.
See Ya!
Rave
Check out the new site, Full Moon Rapture, fics, magik, cooking and more http://www.dreamwater.net/ravelee/index.html
==^================================================================ This email was sent to: lizzielebeau@mindspring.com
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