A/N: Soo….Guess who's sick? ME. I feel gross…SO I decided to finish my songfic!
Junkie Nat!
I dunno why it's so interesting to write about, but it is.
SO YEAH! The song is "¿Viva La Gloria? (Little Girl)" by Green Day from their 21st Century Breakdown album.
Enjoy!
REVIEW PLEASE! It'll make me feel better…
Disclaimer: I don't own N2N or Green Day or their song or the small reference to Michael Esper XD
Little girl, little girl
Why are you crying?
Inside your restless soul
Your heart is dying
They call you a lost soul. A hopeless cause.
Sadly enough, you are.
You've sat there since the day she came home waiting for someone to notice you. She doesn't even remember who you are. She doesn't remember her own daughter…
Little one, little one
Your soul is purging
Of love and razor blades
Your blood is surging
She sits there day after day after day, trying to jog some memory. But she never had to. She could've talked to you. You would've have helped her. But things were just like before.
She'll never notice you. She'll never care.
You've had enough.
Run away
From the river to the street
And find yourself with your face in the gutter
You're a stray for the salvation army
There is no place like home
When you got no place to go
You don't know what to do. You've tried everything. You've tried to give her a chance and it blew up in your face. You can't take it anymore…you want to get out. You need to get out from all of this…..
Running away seems like the best option.
You pack your things and say your fast goodbyes, and before anyone could even notice, you sneak out in the dead of night. You find a filthy motel and settle in. The first spot that comes to your mind is that club you always go to. You figure you better clear your mind of everything first before you can start on this new life. So you change into a club-worthy outfit and you go.
Little girl, little girl
Your life is calling
The charlatans and saints
Of your abandon
On your way you get a call. You look down at the number. Dad. He's trying to call you. He knows you're gone. You feel almost relieved that they care so much as to try to find you…but you still ignore him. You move on.
It was times like these you wonder how Henry would react. You stopped talking to him weeks ago. He was just bringing you down. But the curiosity of knowing if he still worried about you was overbearing…But by the time you decide you almost want to call him, you're in the club and nothing else matters.
Little one, little one
The sky is falling
Your lifeboat of deception
Is now sailing
You're rather surprised about what's happening so far. You can't believe that everyone actually thinks you're 21 years old, or at least that's what it says on you ID. But you're enjoying yourself, popping some pills, downing a few drinks. You honestly don't feel the same high as you usually do. Maybe you need more…
You see an older guy, surrounded by a small group of other people, wink at you and beckon you to come there… You take your time, but you eventually do as he says.
"Hey, babe…" he winks once again. "Join the party."
In the wake all the way
No rhyme or reason
Your bloodshot eyes
Will show your heart of treason
"So what brings a pretty girl like you to a place like this all by yourself?" He asks, waiting for you to answer.
What you want to say is 'Well, my life pretty much sucks and I ran away because no one gave a fuck about me.' But what you say instead is, "Oh, you know….stressed out of my mind."
"Same here…" Another guy chimes in, running his hands through his dyed black hair.
But the first guy interrupts him. "We're not here to ramble, remember? So, babe, what's your name?"
You stutter to find the right words, already nervous to be telling these lies. "N-Natalie…."
Little girl, little girl
You dirty liar
You're just a junkie
Preaching to the choir
You look around the group once more. Everyone seems to be passing needle around, shooting up. Your heart races as it gets closer and closer to you. Finally, it lands in your hands and you stare at it, not knowing exactly what to do. Your heart tells you it's wrong. It'll hurt you. But your fucked up brain says go for it. So you listen. You let the guy tie the band around your arm, tracing his fingers down it to find a vein. Once he does, he sticks you with the syringe and injects the drug. Your body feels a sickly sweet and warm sensation. It envelops every part of you. You feel like you're wrapped in the fuzziest blanket on a cold winter day. But still inside of you, one part protests.
Run away
From the river to the street
And find yourself with your face in the gutter
You're a stray for the salvation army
There is no place like home
When you got no place to go
You get up and start to dance with this guy, his friends. You pretty much do anything to get your mind off of what you've done tonight. You feel sort of ashamed of yourself. What would Henry think if he saw you like this? What would your father think?
After another hour of dancing, you feel your high start to wear off. You feel drowsy and unsatisfied. The guy can tell by the way your head is lolling against his shoulder. You barely hear yourself mutter something about getting some sleep but you're not sure. You're too far-gone.
The traces of blood
Always follow you home
Like the mascara tears
From your getaway
He can see him smirking as he lifts you off of him. "Time to go home, babe?"
You nod and mumble in agreement, letting him help you walk outside. He calls for a cab and you just watch. He asks for your motel address and you tell him. Then the cab speeds off.
That little bit of common sense you still have tells you this is a bad idea. It's dangerous. He's a strong-looking guy, a rebel. Anything could happen. But you don't care. This is fun for you. This is exciting.
It's invigorating.
You're walking with blisters
And running with shears
So unholy
Sister of grace
You let him into your motel room, practically passing out on your bed in the meantime. He just stares at you and laughs a bit. Henry always told you that you were an amusing drunk. You never thought it was really true.
He sits next to you on the bed and you giggle, pulling him in to kiss you. He obediently obliges, kissing and kissing. You love the attention. Mostly, you love the feeling that someone loves you. Things get heated, you give in. Your night takes a turn for blissfulness as the two of you finish.
You cuddle up against him once it's done and expect him to do the same, like Henry did. But the guy pulls away, getting up and getting dressed. You wonder what's going on.
"Where are you going?" you ask, your voice groggy and miserable.
"I'm done. Where do you think I'm going?" he responds, grabbing his jacket now.
"You can't just leave!" You call after him, trying not to sound needy. "Don't you love me?"
He scoffs and looks right at you like you just said something amusing. "Of course not. Look, girly, here's a tip. Don't put your faith in anyone in this town. They ain't gonna have your back. Love's dead, princess." He winks and goes out the door, leaving you there.
Here you are again. Alone. No one to care. You wonder why this has to happen to you, no matter where you go.
You're trapped. And you can't escape.
Run away
From the river to the street
And find yourself with your face in the gutter
You're a stray for the salvation army
There is no place like home
A/N: Yepp! So...that ending kinda sucked. xP Sorry guys...
Butterflies: *cheer on reviewers*
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