Disclaimer: (Waking up in a hospital) What I'm outta jail? (Doctor enters) Well hello there Vignette, guess what you have been released from jail (Vignette all happy) Hurray! Hurray! (Doctor coughing nervously) Uh…miss…you were in a coma for two months – uh and that man Aoki Takao who owns Beyblade, that cool anime paid for your expenses – and, what are you doing! (Vignette trying to take out needles) I own Beyblade! ME! ME! (Doctor yelling) Nurse I think we got a loony one! (Vignette demented) Hahahahaha!
Author's Note: THANKYOU ALL WHO HAS REVIEWED! SERIOUSLY! I LOVE YOU GUYS! SERIOUSLY! I GIVE YOU HUGS AND KISSES! LET ALLAH BLESS YOU ALL! SERIOUSLY! I AM SO BLUSHING RIGHT NOW! THANKS!
I must tell something important. The second portion of this chapter will have some graphic content so please don't get offended. The song "Hostility" Is something I wrote. Emilene's comments on Kristen inspired me in this chapter also – Thanks Man! Also I can't believe Moonlight Serenity's comment (blushes) Thanks! Angel Of Suicide I will be honored to be added to your C2 (smiles and gives hug).
Special Note: As of now, the dedication to this story will also be shared; I dedicate it to one of my best friends, Nadia. Nadia, my friend, is immigrating to another country and left as I was writing this chapter. The news was very sudden and I was very sad. Nadia is very close to me like a sister, also she is the only friend I had in my country who watches Beyblade (seriously). WELL, I'LL PRAY TO ALLAH ALMIGHTY THAT NADIA SETTLES DOWN EASILY TO HER NEW HOME AND THAT WE ARE ALWAYS GOOD FRIENDS TILL THE VERY END.
Tell Me Maybe I Can Forget
X
Breathless Obsidian
Hostility
" You can punish me beyond reason
I won't mind
You can be cruel
But I will smile
This is how I'm sardonic
This is how I mimic
Your love, your hate, your rage, your gaze
Oh how demure can you be
With your hostility
Free me from yourself
You're this hell
Encompassing everything I believe
Watch your back
I'll stab it for you
Betraying me is what you always do
So I'll do the same!
Watch out, you're vile, watch out for yourself
Take that claw you call your hand and bruise yourself
I hate you not, I love you not
But can you call upon me when you are hot
Just let go
Of the thing you have for me
Your Hostility can't abide
Can't let you shine
So just let go!
Feed me poison – is that your goal?
Your soul: tormented, wretched, from what I don't know
Hell-bent on what cause? You are too foolish
If my hostility could kill you
I'll surely let it
Now I find no ascension
Only depression, only descent
No more arising
No more the phoenix-effect
Watch out for me
I have the bigger hand on the cruelty, on the malice
I'm hostile, I'm an animal
Will you beat me before I get to you?
Leisurely my lips open: hypnosis occurs in a paradoxical and I just surrender to it:
' Blanc ou noir comme toi je parts au loin,
avec l'espoir de changer le destin.
Bien que dans le corps l'âme embrase,
dans l'obscurité la distance devient infinite
Avec des jeunes vêtus en peau de bête,
on danse ensemble au milieu des tempêtes.
Un autre horizon se dissout
dans la lumière des yeux qui veulent se reveiller.
Et, j'attend là,
où rien bouge maintenant.
Même si je ne te vois pas
Je peux retrouver ce que l'on cherche dans la nuit,
même si c'est très difficile
je danserai mon chemin avec les loups.'
Trying to stabilize the tunes in English, part of Ilaria Graziano's Valse de la Lune, translated to Waltz of the Moon:
' White or black as I depart beyond you,
with the hope to change destiny.
Although in the body the soul blazes,
in the darkness the distance becomes infinite.
With the youths dressed in the skin of beasts,
we dance together in the middle of tempests.
Another horizon dissolves
in the light of eyes that want to awaken.
And, I wait here,
Where nothing moves right now.
Even if I don't see you
I can regain what we seek in the night;
Even if it's really difficult
I'll dance my path with the wolves.'
I finish, the syllable to the songs in English cannot sway as smoothly to Yoko Kanno's brilliant composed music yet that was expected as the song was Italian, Face it Hilary Tatibana you may not know Italian but this Wolf's Rain song is one of your favorites, I gain an inhalation and soon I exhale as I say that to myself. I sang the song a couple of more times – it has this alacrity; I believe in it. It's soothing and at the same time melodiously stable and profound.
I'm in a good mind right now. Luckily it will not change, either for homework pressure or any sort of pressure. My dad and mom are downstairs. They must be doing something like watching television. I'm just here in my room. Sketching; with Brooklyn's pencil.
I usually don't do that.
I never really use it.
Is this a bad idea?
Stroking the fine lines of the figure I'm drawing I really help my drawing with markers and dark ink fountain pen. I love the blackness of the pen, it's exotic and demurely places its hands on me – meaning the fragmentation of its beauty. I get swept away by a literary ambiguous terms at times – perhaps my attempts to be an artist? Sure, I guess I fix my own question with a sustainable answer. I keep on sketching and soon I finish – it really isn't something I'd known I'd draw.
Brooklyn Masefield Kingston
Nowadays I think more about him. I can't really understand why, why do I think of him a lot? A sudden alarm to something I s'ppose. What was it anyway? I sometimes dislike the jigsaw puzzle fate tells me to play. The pieces are abstract and I'm mending an ink-blot it seems. Very felicitous I can say that to the purport of it. Very charming – I'm definitely not being sarcastic. Why Brooklyn anyway? Do I have a sixth sense? Do I feel he's coming back? Why is it so important to me?
Stupid: I know the reply to that, genius, really I am a dumbass – Brooklyn is important to me? Friend or not, Supposed crush or not, Brooklyn will always be there in my life. I guess we are bonded together, revolving around the same solar system. Yet I feel sad at times because I don't want to hurt him. What if my feelings are just simple magnetic attractions? What if it isn't magnetic romance with God's Blessings and intense touches? Will Brooklyn define me as a crook, a deceiver – wait, how can I be all those things. I have never told him I loved him. Did it simply spell itself out, the impression of it? I hope not: I am not sure where this emotions are guiding me and so I won't be fast – I won't leap to a design thinking it's the one and only. If I do love Brooklyn, it'll gradually show – I need my faith in God to help me through this.
I guess it is this hard when you are seventeen; hell, I guess it is this hard when you are eighteen; nineteen, twenty – love is a simply complex solution soaking your heart. It is stable, unstable, refined and spoiled – it is a very different organ with no perfect specialized tissues or function. That makes it so perfect. Right now my feelings for Brooklyn are fluctuating; it can be deep or just shallow. Either way I'll scan my emotions whenever I can. Brooklyn isn't going to regret whatever I chose because I'll be honest with him.
' Hiromi! Hiromi Tatibana! Please answer me! I've been calling you for five minutes! What are you doing!' it was my mom who allowed herself to step into my room after ascending over the stairs, she didn't seem happy, but more concerned than unhappy, ' Hilary?' a very tender approach now.
' S-sorry,' I really was, ' I'm in a drugged-up mood – not that I'm doing drugs.' I explain as she seemed dumbfounded, ' It's an expression mom!' I laugh as she relaxes, ' Is there anything I can do for you?' I ask, lifting myself out of my desk and stretching.
' Uh, yes, your friend called, that Kenny boy – seriously he said "Is Hilary there?" and I was "Who is Hilary?" then he says your proper name "Hiromi please". Hiromi do you use that nickname, seriously I hope this popular trend fades – I don't really enjoy it that much. Tyson Kinomiya superstar blunders are considered infamous nicknames – really…' my mother doesn't really like "Hilary" much.
' Mom…uh…the phone…' my hand outstretched – I really hadn't spoken to Kenny in a while.
' Oh…here…' she gives it to me and heads outside, only reappearing as I put the phone near my ear, ' Please make the conversation brief honey dinner is served and you haven't eaten lunch. You can call him back after you finish dinner, tell him that.'
' Sure.' I smile and she gives one in return as she exists, now to the phone, ' Hi Kenny how are you?'
' Hey Hilary – long time no see, I just called to chat…yeah just that…without Dizzy it gets lonely around here…' he seemed very confused with his own actions as he spoke. I really felt compassionate, he really feels weak in socializing with others. I don't know why – he really is a great guy.
' So Dizzari hasn't come back…' I mutter it, ' Do you have any clues to where she went?'
' Bitbeasts sometimes leave their partners,' he sadly explains, ' Though mostly it is because they need thinking space like we humans do…but…but…other times it's because they just fade or want to become nonexistent…or look for someone else as a partner…'
' Why does she need so much space?' I steer the subject slightly, Kenny can get pessimistic, ' I mean she is a spirit – her whole existence channels a pretty satisfactory energy doesn't it?'
' Hilary, you don't think Dizzy really abandoned me do you?' he was sad, my attempt has failed.
' No, truthfully I don't…you are a great partner…she loves you…you must believe in her love to believe in the happiness you share with her…' it is true advice, I can believe it so should Kenny. After all he never mistreated or abused Dizzari – there isn't a true facet to why she left. I believe it as a temporary leave.
' I wanna believe that…but…' he is pulled by the ropes of suffocation; Dizzy is very important to Kenny.
' Tell me…what do you think?' I have to hear him out, my tone is lowered to a breezy effect, he must know I'll help him.
' I'm a weak blader!' he suddenly bursts it out, ' I mean…scientific stuff aside my Beyblading is terrible! Believe me she left me for that!'
' So you think of yourself as that.' I'm annoyed.
' W-what?' he stammers; I growl.
' Stop being condescending!' I scream and he gasps, ' You are Dizzy's friend! Not her pawn! Kenny Kinomoto she'll come back if you believe optimistically; don't be a cynic and think you are so fragile…God…you are strong, believe me…not weak…if you ever thought otherwise it's because you must've been high on drugs…' it was said with a heavy admonishing tongue.
' I don't do drugs…' Kenny almost squeaks it out.
' Well you do loads of "I'm a dumbass" drug and "Kick my ass" grass – geez Kenny you are a dignified man. Stop forgetting that…' I'm slightly sardonic; I want him to know the potency within him.
' It's not easy Hil!' so he enunciates, ' I just…was so used to her presence…she is gone! Without telling me too! What does she think she is "Miss I-am-so-great-you-are-nothing" I will kill her I swear!' he amplifies the stress.
' You can't kill her you know…' I tease, ' She's a spirit…'
' Well…oh I can torture her can't I…?' he seems restless, ' When she comes back I'll do that!'
' So you know she's gonna come back…' it is like a reverse-psychology thing with my playful voice.
' Yeah! I mean I'm her partner right? Surely she'll come back!' Kenny reconciles with his belief.
' Good…' I say it in a flowery way, ' You believe she's gonna back!'
' Yeah…well…' Kenny almost grumbles, ' I wonder what's taking her long…'
' Well, good things for those who wait…' I smile as I brush my hair – an example of the phrase, I was trying to grow it and in time it will be illuminant hopefully. ' Well, Kenny, have you actually called for MingMing's number or what?'
' When…did…I mean…I…' he stammers so uncontrollably I laugh.
' C'mon Kenny you can try talking to her more…' I know of his crush besides it could be love though I shouldn't blindly encourage him.
' C'mon Hilary,' he exhales as if he is intimate with something, ' I'm not exactly the type she prefers…'
Truthfully, I couldn't dissuade Kenny from that thought because he wasn't really physically appealing – it was not cruel judgment that made me call it like this but it was truth. Kenny was adorable but somewhat more emaciated than he should be and tiny in his expressions. Though he lacked confidence his shyness was not really admirable because he was adept at acting more immature than concerned. Though in actuality, Kenny needed some pointers to sharpen himself. Dizzy was a constant tease to it then helping. It wasn't the physical body but the physical aura he got wrong: it showed more of a apathetic look than it actual intention.
MingMing thought that herself; she told me. Good news – she actually noticed Kenny Kinomoto.
To be honest Ming-Ming doesn't have a good taste in boys when it comes to commitment. Either she's non-committal or the guy is, it turns out to be a ruckus rather than a relationship. She seems to emphasize physical perfection and never see the mind. When she does and if she finds herself in a loss with the fluffy-kind of romance she likes, she'll break up with the guy or dump him or vice versa. The guys she dates are all cuteness and thickness – they are intelligent but narcissistic and spoiled. When I mention to her of their rude attitudes she believes I'm trying to compete with her or am extremely jealous for I have no catch like the current beau but truthfully it's just because I know secretly she's unhappy with them. Secretly, I get mad when she gives me the "Shutup" stare – thinking I know nothing. Secretly, I become evil and think how all those are second in looks when it comes to Brooklyn – ok, that's transcending the line – I just care for MingMing, she's my friend. And, as Mariah and I predicted, the so-called relationship disintegrates before any solid interaction can happen – I don't know about sex though – Ming-Ming admits more than frequently that her sex-life is ardent and enjoyable. Guess she thinks it's funny that Mariah and I are still virgins – she thinks that's old-fashioned stupidity. I smiled and told her truthfully that I wasn't comfortable with the idea of not being a virgin at the moment. Mariah, however, wasn't so happy – she rewarded MingMing with the middle finger and yelled, a lot, unpleasant words were poured.
I had to settle the two before a real cat fight could happen: after all Mariah and MingMing have very favorable feline talons one can say.
' Kenny you don't eat much do you?' it pops out.
' No…I know I look anorexic…' he says quietly.
' Are you?' I dared it.
' No, but I don't eat much – don't like food that much.' Another quiet confession; another thought organized.
' Well what do you like to eat?' I ask, trying to probe, no luxury of mystery for him.
' Junk food mostly – that's unhealthy I know…' He sighed and I gave tsk-tsk.
' That's having a negative effect on your body – you may have a high metabolism and you eat less all the time and work all the time. You are punishing your body beyond its limit – what are you a slave-driver?' I kind of chastise him, discipline him to be more aware, ' What does your mom do about it?'
' Well she is always at me about it like you are right now…' he seems somewhat agitated.
' Good.' I firmly command a tone of high admonition, ' At least then someone takes care of you…'
' Take care of me…? Girl I'm nineteen – I'm two years older than you…no one needs to care about me…' he protested through a tight reassurance of what his age was: Very Typical really, very typical, something to help to defend.
' Oh really…' I kind of mock, ' Last time I checked you're nine – c'mon Kenny start being more vigilant about yourself or else you'll fall sick!' I request it and command it at the same time, ' Besides, parents always take care of their kids because that's one of their primary functions – you can never be too old for them. That's the beauty of it.'
' Fine…Fine enough lectures…' he seemed to be jubilant, ' I understand…you're right…I definitely need to reorganize my priorities…number one eat like I've never eaten anything in like one thousand years.'
' That's the spirit!' I smile as I tie my hair in two ponytails – A la CardCaptor Sakura. ' So what are you going to do now?' I question, I look through some of my text books – I need to do a book report on a play – I can't seem to find it…
' Go and Eat!' he chirped it, ' Mom will be surprised though.' He stresses it jokingly, ' It's been like ages that I went to the dinner table.'
' Well,' I talk to him slightly distracted, Where is that book? ' Surprise her – it's not a bad thing.'
' You seem preoccupied…' Kenny chuckled as I sought my possession,
' It's not funny my friend…' I pout though he can't see it and teasingly portray anger, ' The book I'm supposed to do a book report on just vanished…though it isn't due until like next week…Hey I'm gonna talk to you later – see you Ken – bye.'
' Yeah bye Hil, thanks for everything…' he sounds elated and he clicks off the line.
I slowly put the phone down and look everywhere in my drawer, Did I leave it somewhere?
The phone started ringing but I didn't answer it – too busy looking for my book – then suddenly my mother calls from below the stairs, ' Hiromi! It's for you! It's Mariah!'
' Thanks mom…' I click on the phone, ' Hey Mariah…can I call you back I'm looking for –'
' Your book,' she finishes it for me, ' Genius it's in my house with me – remember you lent it to me – because we are going to do the report together tomorrow with MingMing – oh yes I think you forgot.'
' Oh yeah…' I make a silly expression, glad she can't see it, ' So uh MingMing is coming tomorrow? – Isn't she?'
' Yup, after shopping…' she makes an annoyed noise like a "hmnn" - wait isn't that Hiwatari kid famous for doing that, has that become a trend – uh anyways.
' But that could take ages!' I protest – MingMing and shopping – if it were a mathematical equation it would be endless.
' Does she care…?' it was told in a knowing way, Mariah definitely understood the nature of MingMing in these occasions, ' Listen, we'll call her if she's late – she'll come over then – she's a good friend and tries to remain that…' it wasn't sarcastic, MingMing is a good person underneath all the popularity and denied depression – Mariah respected her a lot despite their arguments.'
' Hey what about Ray? Won't he come?' I ask timidly as I reorganize my desk; I went crazy over finding the much coveted book.
' Oh him, he's got Beyblade practice with that kid called Daichi so he won't come…I hear Tyson's coming also so whatever…' it was more like a snort than a explanation – definitely Mariah pissed off.
' Uh, Beyblade practice? You didn't go?' it isn't really healthy to probe the situation – like junk food personified – but I take a bite – see where it leads to…?
' Oh screw that!' I'm seeing where it leads too – I'm not liking the rage of it, ' You know Ray isn't exactly the most important in my life so screw him!'
' Mariah, you know him…since you were kids…' I mutter almost mutely. It was stupid but needed – I guess I wanted to see where the anger was coming from.
' Screw that! It's not like we are best friends because of it! Hell, Ray wouldn't care if I died or whatever…' she seemed colossal in her anger and I was probed by the last line. That was never Ray – no way.
' Mariah you're over-doing it…Ray does care about you and all of us…he surely would care if anything happened to any of us…to you too…' I explain, it is defensive to Ray and to be honest I think I shouldn't defend Ray at all.
' Oh really well hurray for me…' she does sarcasm and soft anger follows, ' Ray pretends I don't exist…' an exhale, ' He's pretty good at it…I don't think we were ever really friends to begin with…why does he do that anyway…?' a question to me, a question to herself.
' I'm not sure. He probably is nervous I guess…' my meek answer is highlighted with bumps – she loves him – she wants to know if it will be requited or unrequited?
' Well…I don't like forever you know…I don't…' Mariah surrenders to it, the sadness of being ignored. Seriously, Ray spends time Beyblading but never thinking – he loves her too – why make someone special wait when destiny gives you a string to pull at anytime? Seriously, Ray is an idiot! ' Uh Hilary…' she finally regained her voice, ' When I was browsing through some of the penciled notes of in your book – uh – this page fell out…I'm sorry I couldn't control my curiosity and I read it…' it was said like an apology.
' Oh…' the page, my soft voice realized what she was talking about.
' Uh it's a poem – called "Breathless Obsidian" – you wrote its meaning too – uh – the beauty of the night – I read it I'll read it again:
" Unbinding Itself; Night releases his reign over sky;
The illuminant hair strands – the stars and the moon
The illuminant whispers – the clouds floating of dreams.
There lies this paradise drunk by ink – intoxicated by slivery light
Souls of old floating through invisible channels on the black skin;
Luscious – it's universal beauty, that silky flesh of inky curves
Beauty hypnotizes eyes – people slumber with dreams and visions
Beauty hypnotizes eyes – not in slumber but frozen to gawk at beauty.
Soon dusk comes to wake up the nigh; his empire once again in ruin
Saluting the new leader: the fashionable golden beau of another element:
Yet night is still living – Night cannot wither:
The Breathless obsidian he is – breathless for he is immortally preserved."
I'm sorry if it was a personal poem. I didn't mean to read it.'
' No that's ok…' I smile as I unconsciously take the pencil, ' …the person I wanted to give it to has gotten it already…'
Playing it on my lips is never difficult: it is personification to this existence I lay down so I never kick out the need for it:
' Something's missing and I don't know why
I always feel the need to hide my feelings from you
Is it me or you that I'm afraid of
I tell myself I'll show you what I'm made of
Can't bring myself to let you go
I don't want to cause you any pain
But I love you just the same
And you'll always be my baby
In my heart I know we've come apart
And I don't know where to start
What can I do, I don't wanna feel blue
Bad girl drunk by six
Kissing someone else's lips
Smoked too many cigarettes today
I'm not happy when I act this way
Bad girl drunk by six
Kissing some kind stranger's lips
Smoked too many cigarettes today
I'm not happy, I'm not happy.'
Classical, utterly, classical – Madonna does me justice with her Bad Girl lyrics, the ballad to my life, the song to my life, Face it Kristen RedHart, you can fuck a lot and sing well – your talents in life. I sing that opening part of the song – I like the video too, Madonna's character gets caned – I light a cigarette. That video was released when I was five years old in '92. Geez, where's five and where is nineteen? I smoke my cigarette – I live in a nice house. Pretty flowery curtains – Pretty mattresses, beds – the works: yeah, my pretty house, like my pretty fucked up life – God, I could use another cigarette after this.
Bad Girl through and through – Madonna knows her people psychologies man.
Yeah my pretty house – like my pretty face, like my pretty waist, my pretty legs – hell everything about me is pretty! Pretty fucking stupid! I look for the ashtray as I dramatically crush the cig I smoked. Pretty good actress too – golden globe for biggest whore on the planet goes to – me. Ain't that a surprise? Oh gosh I'm blushing like if I am on my menstruation! I'm fucked up I know.
My house is pretty nice – because it's always quiet. No Dad, No Mom, No sister – Only Jezebel, yeah only Jezebel – my stupid cat. She is this Persian-Siamese mix – she is actually beautiful with her grey-cloud painted paws, face and ears and her whitish-gray body. Her eyes are cerulean rain – she is pure beauty that's why I named her such a sickening, twisted name – because I can only dream to be like her.
This pretty house isn't really my home. No way – my original birthplace residence is in California – not New York where I am now. I wonder what my parents are doing now?
I haven't spoken to my parents in five years. Ever since they kicked me out, hmmm, I expect anyone can get the picture to how it is. No Dad, No Mom, No sister – oh yeah, I had an old sister. She was four years older than me; if she were alive now, well she would be twenty-three now. She died when she was eighteen – tragic. A real Romeo and Juliet kind of thing – no, actually a twisted version of it; I really don't care that much about it anymore. Why should I? She's dead and gone – I'm still alive, hell, am I? I look at myself in the mirror and look at my face after I seem pale, ghost-like. I question myself in my head, Am I? Inside another voice tells me, You're not happy, I reply, Fuck-off Victoria.
Victoria – that's a very regal name. There's a queen comprising of it – a famous lingerie and clothing line named after "the girl's" secret – and my sister was Victoria RedHart.
What was she like? I try to smudge her out of my memory – as if she were a fly – dengue fever fear I suppose. There is a fever, a fever in my heart, always have been it's burning me up like a volcano. What are the magma contents? Rage, despair, love and loathing – this is a weird red stew I suppose and I guess I eat it everyday. God, I miss her, I miss my sister Victoria – her pageant-queen face and her lovely words. Big Sister through and through: that's what she was, untainted but tainted. Like the weird stew that is broth to my heart, there is something weird in hers – a subtle drink blending Romeo and Juliet contents.
Only in this case Romeo Must Die was a phrase not to be disused. It was terribly going to be used.
She had to get pregnant. Eighteen, pregnant, alone: yeah alone because the bastard who banged her left her. That's what men are like. That's what men are going to be; child-like monsters practicing hypocritical slang they memorize from trashy romance novels. Hmph, she had such great dreams with him, such big hopes of love and parenthood, well they got fucking washed out of his mind with the orgasm. He really didn't abandon more like accuse her of being a whore. My sister was a virgin; it was the first time she ever committed: it was to her love Sam. Sammy boy really did like her much – he likes her ass and tits that made his testis go all whack. After the flood of pleasure dissipated there were other chicks to screw; hey, there are like many chicks around – damn, that really fucks up the schedule doesn't it. He stopped talking to her, coming to see her, it was nothing new, guys jerk around like that all the time. My fourteen year old mind, still virginal, wasn't adept at understanding that. My sister's eighteen-year old mind wasn't either.
Breaking the news is like a "timber" sort of effect. You don't scream it but the news screams itself. It's this poltergeist that comes alive. My parents thought so anyway.
Victoria wasn't ready to tell. She had waited three months. Those three months could amount to three-thousand years. She tried, she protested, she adjured, she was in the heap of all desperation but Sammy boy wouldn't yield, no, he was too good for that, he told her 'Fuck-off Slut! Tell daddy to come and baby-sit!'
' But…Sam you are the father…you know I was virgin before you…you-you have to take this responsibility, what's wrong with you!' she had tears, so many, so many, if they could be crystallized I think they could become diamonds, real ones, a mother's tears for her child is something valuable – more than the Yu Yu Hakusho series maiden stuff.
' Babe, who said you were virgin…' he was sardonic to her face! That rat bastard! ' I didn't hear you scream that much…'
That was the answer he gave her. Three months suffering in a pregnancy – that can be hazardous. Our father was furious, our mother too – they became accusatory rather than aiding. I hate them. I hate them a lot.
Pressures piled up. It's hard to be a single mom at eighteen. It's hard to see the man you loved screw around with your friends. Humpty-Dumpty isn't the only one who can crack.
She wore a serene face the day it happened. The doctor telling her how it was necessary that she remain calm, it was pressurizing. Mom, Dad, had been notified, but I was there. Romeo and Juliet tragedy twisted.
' I lost her didn't I – I lost Anne, didn't I Kristen?' the baby had died, she was still fetal in some ways, only sixth months, it was a miscarriage. I just stared as the little body was taken away and my sister stabilized. My mouth could never be drier, my nerves never colder. Teardrops were far away, but the explosion of the sadness wore my young heart down. To be an angel in the womb: to be angel even when exposed. Let God protect you and nurture you little one.
' Please…please…don't think about it…' I didn't know how to console her. I was numb myself…
' I…I feel…I am…slipping away…' she closes her eyes. She wore a serene face.
She died of excess blood loss. I felt empty. I see her hospital bed empty and I wait. I wait for the illusion to fade. To me her death was the ultimate illusion to me. Sadly, it wasn't illusion, it was reality. Something I wasn't prepared to face.
I carry the magnum; it's my father's – it has blood on it because I just shot one of Sam's friends on the arm. He was howling so loud that even werewolves can die from it.
He comes out, the bastard, with a redhead, who he was going to fuck. He saw me, I see me – it's a match between emotions. I fair best here; he is an apathetic beasts.
' This bitch is crazy!' the slutty redhead screams. I shot her on her knee – now she's screaming, not at me anyway.
' Anne's right man!' he scrambles towards the door, ' You are crazy!'
' So…' my silence is evil, the pause is evil, ' This whore's name is Anne…' he trembles as I approach him with the bloody gun, ' Do you know? Do you know…?' my breath becomes ragged and I growl like a wolf of carnage, ' Your baby girl was going to be named that? Did you know that…? Victoria chose Anne…This slut's name is Anne too…It seems you can fuck up anything can't you Sammy boy…' we have gone to the living room of his home now, I look dangerously at his private spot, ' Well we can fix that…'
I shot him, I shot him where it hurt the most – his manhood – as he howled like a monstrosity I return the verbal sardonic favor, ' Well, I guess you are definitely virgin – you are screaming as if you are bringing down the house…'
Many trials followed. I was locked up in juvenile hall for a year. That was a miracle. Yet no one died or miraculously lose any appendages. That guy I shot in the arm came out after two months same for the girl. Sam, he had it rough but the bastard was able to save his stuff though he was hospitalized for a long time. I guess six months. When I came out from juvenile hall my parents didn't greet me. They weren't even home. I realized they were ashamed for what I done. So I was – I went overboard by shooting the friend and the girl. I didn't feel sorry Sam. I heard he had turned a new life. Wonder when the bugs are gonna eat it. I knew where my parents kept some good healthy stash of greens so I took the cash and came to New York. My kinda town – well, not really, I wasn't really prepared for it. I wasn't really prepared to be a whore.
I guess I wanted to control them, control men. They were controllable as long as their dicks were satisfied. I wanted them to feel used and mortified. It actually was a suicidal procedure. Something I didn't expect or aware of. I have done jobs to keep me afloat. I have an uncle in Sydney Australia who knows where I am. He is well off so he helps me too. Well, actually, I told him to sod-off because I didn't need his greens. He said he cares for me because I'm his niece. He doesn't want to lose me because he has lost Victoria. He has no children of his own and is unmarried – I believe he's either not interested or is homosexual or bisexual. I think he is bisexual because he told me once about a girlfriend in a letter – then talked on how he made a new boyfriend. Pretty Classy I guess.
I had sex with the boy who lives next door.
I had sex with the boy who lives a couple of blocks away.
I had sex with the man who is drunkard.
I had sex with the man who does drugs repeatedly.
I had sex with a drunken man's bisexual boyfriend.
I had sex with the boy who is a Goth.
I had sex with the boy who is a nerd.
I had sex with the boy who was the football star in my high school.
I had sex with my English Teacher.
I had sex with my Biology Teacher.
I had sex with my Math Teacher.
I had sex with my principal.
Then,
I had sex with Brooklyn.
' Is it that you love tequila so much that you drain it in like a pipe or am I seeing things?' Sixteen, at a bar, having tequila shots like crazy, this guy thinks he's funny.
' I don't talk to losers who give lame pick-up lines…' I take down a tenth glass and almost hiss at him with arrogance.
' You just talked.' Well, what ya know, busted, ' Besides…' what the hell, I wasn't paying attention, ' I don't pick-up drunken ugly bitches…'
That really got my attention, ' What do you think of yourself!' I scream and turn around to meet jade-forest eyes and flaring sun-hair. Adonis reincarnated, 'Casanova…' I stumble with words. This guy was beautiful, literally.
' Yeah you got me Casanova.' He winked, I think I blushed. Was there any virginity in me left? I knew I was no more innocent. So why the blush anyway?
' Well, I'm not a bitch.' I snarl it softly – my teeth bear only seductively.
' I know that…' he apologizes tenderly, playfully, so sexily, ' Yet that caught your attention.'
' Worst pick-up line.' I address as I consume another shot – my eyes narrowly closed – sneaking his body line in. God, he was a beauty.
' Who said it was a pick-up line.' He says it with ignorant sexuality, meaning dully, platonically, he leans in and speeds up a fire in me. Luckily, the rise is in him, ' Do you, want to be picked up?'
' Well…' I allow the proximity, dropped the glassed drink obsession, ' I don't get pick-up by losers…' I smile, so does he, he can predict it, Love his smart senses, ' Only Casanovas do the job…'
Yes, they can. Four times in one night. His place, first time with him – it was going to change many things in my life. It was not going to be another one night stand.
You're not happy; I recall my sister's gentle tone in a dream. Funny, it was always said the same way. When I was seven and broke my leg, when I was ten and got a deep cut and…the time I was fourteen, in the hospital, after she lost Anne. I answered her, how could I be, my niece was dead. We both held each other and cried.
You're not happy; the voice is always on a repeat, always, always when I sleep with Brooklyn. Every time I do I commit murder. I do suicide. I hate being this dishonest.
I wanted more. From Brooklyn, from the path that we were going, I wanted something special. But, I never told him that, I never established it. It was just sex right? No, Brooklyn was someone special. The three years I've known him, I wanted him to be mine – Brooklyn was uncontrollable.
Brooklyn was a real man. I realized it, a man isn't someone who panders to his dick. He respects his mind and his heart. For Brooklyn I strayed away from the pessimism that all men are monsters. I just got hurt because Sammy boy was a loser trash. A true individual is uncontrollable. I realized I was – though I know I was a whore I couldn't be controlled by anybody neither could Brooklyn. He never wanted me to like him but I started anyway. I first thought it was because he was not committing to my charms – but, it came clearer as time passed. Brooklyn understood me, I did understand him too.
We were fuck-buddies. No shame in it. I know I can call him when I don't get action. He can do the same. I hated him because of it. So linear in this situation, it was as if he was secretly hostile. It suffocated me and I choked up residues of my sentimental self. I hated the fact he could see me brought out of apathy. He hated me for I saw him naked like that as well.
The man called Boris governed and still governs Brooklyn. Funny that the situation is bizarrely mutual – Brooklyn is perfection in many things: he is Beyblading incarnated.
He seems to be one with the world
He seems to possess no weakness
He seems to betray no kindness when he settles with cruelty
He can never turn away from the love he had for Hilary.
Hilary
Hiromi Tatibana
She is a Japanese girl Brooklyn loves. I am jealous of her. I believe she has stolen something that is rightfully mine. I hate her. In the end however I admire her because she hasn't really stolen anything away. I am coveting a person who has never cared for me to begin with. He does but not romantically. Our relationship is mixed with sex and friendship, with sadism on who can hurt each other. This is because every time Brooklyn sleeps with me he commits murder as well. He does suicide slowly as I do.
' So this is Wolf's Rain…' I look at him, ' Let me guess…this is one of Hilary's favorite animes isn't it?'
' Yup…' he smiles as we watch it together.
' So, I guess you sometimes in some ways can keep an eye on her…' I brush my hand against his hair. We are at our friendliest now.
' Yes, Boris has contacts and she did write to me…I just can't really write back…' he seems irritated for it.
' Boris doesn't want you mixing with her I guess…' I take a sip of green tea, ' I guess he knows you like her…'
' Yes…but he really can't do much…' he keeps on looking at the anime, ' If I want I can bend the secrecy rules…I can leave and get Boris to a lot of trouble…'
' That's good…' I smile at him and drink my tea.
' Breathless Obsidian…' he purrs it out.
' Huh?' I look at his sound. It's alluring to the words.
' Kristen wanna hear a poem?' he smiles at me
' Ok, sure…' I smile and he immediately, eagerly, recites.
Back to the present, my mind leaves memory lane. I draw a puff out of my second cigarette and look at my cat – she's staring at me, ' You want to say something to me?' I question my pet who just tilts her head and meows, ' Come here Jezebel…'
He doesn't come. She lies upon the couch. Soon she seems to want to cat-nap. I get irritated.
I take off one of my sandals and I throw it at her, ' Silly Cat!' it hits her, not strongly though, she immediately gets up meows in panic and runs off, ' Typical.' I laugh sadistically, that was mean. I really didn't know why I did it actually.
Breathless Obsidian – the beauty of night, Brooklyn personified. I mean his uniqueness can take your breath away but then again he can be suffocating if he wants to be. I know. Hilary is lucky she has earned Brooklyn's love.
Outside the window I see the boy next door. I smile mischievously and flash him upper skin-shot. He seems to melt.
Stupid Kid
Still, maybe, I'll fuck him later.
I guess for fun. To humiliate him: Bad girl, through and through.
Author's Note: The CardCaptor Sakura part was there because many fan-artists like to portray Kai coupling with Sakura. Simply Ingenious!