A/N: on the self-injury plotline: meh. I'm just sortof fiddling with it. She probably won't do it again, but who knows. I wasn't happy with the last chapter overall anyway. Nothing really happened, which is not how I like it at all. I got like one major plot point where I would have liked 4 or 5. Meh. Besides, she didn't technically do anything, per se. She cut herself picking up broken glass. It's not like she grabbed a knife and started slashing her wrists…*finishes lamely* Whatever. Why am I justifying myself to you?! Are YOU writing the fic?! NO!!!
Morgan and Mordred, the Fraternal Twin Muses: please excuse Gaia…she's got, shall we say, the little red flag waving. She's moody because her mother got the wrong pads.
Thanks guys. And thanks everyone who reviewed. *bangs coconuts together* on with the fic!
A week passed, and then a few days passed. Lily continued to remain distant from Travis, Ray, RFR, and school. Her grades began to slip. Ray, Lily, and Lily's mother and sister (her father and brothers had been gone that night) remained the only people who had any inkling what had happened to Lily. And Ray continued to hold his peace.
Lily woke up one day and realized it had been 12 days since That Night. She did not know why this felt significant, only that it was, in some way, significant. She got up and dressed, and didn't let anyone touch her all through school, even her older sister, who had been the only one Lily trusted That Night to help her undress and get from her room to the shower, and the shower to her bed.
After school that day, she went to RFR as usual, but did not say anything. There were two separate call-ins wondering if Shady Lane was even there that day. After RFR, Lily headed home instead of to Mickey's as was customary. It was a good three-mile walk, and she would have to go through a rather shady part of town, but Lily could use the walk. She was passing a group of older kids, perhaps in grade 11 or 12, who were smoking. For some reason, this fascinated her, enough that she was compelled to approach them.
"Can I bum a smoke?"
She received a white and tan cylinder in response. She took the proffered lighter and lit up. She was hard pressed not to cough as she took a puff. The older kids struck up a conversation, asking what grade she was in, how old she was, who she normally hung out with, normal teenage conversation fare, as well as what got her started on smoking, whether she did any other drugs, and what cigarettes she normally smoked. In other words, normal teenage conversation fare, just the type that even the dimmest were smart enough not to use around *you*, dear reader. She considered lying and saying 12, 17, other grade 12s, but instead told the truth, of 9, 14, and 3 other grade 9s named Ray, Robbie, and Travis. To their comments on how young she was, she responded "Everyone's gotta start somewhere."
She hung out with the older group, whose names and ages she learned were Amy, 17, Lisa, 17, Morgan, 16, Brian, 19, and Mordred, 19, for a while longer. Lisa and Brian were going out, and Morgan and Mordred were brother and sister. Just before she left, Amy handed her a pack of cigarettes with 2 missing and a matchbook. "Everyone's gotta start somewhere."
Lily hid the cigarettes and matches in her bag, said goodbye to everyone, and left.
"Oh, hi Lily, how was school?"
"Fine, mom. What's for dinner?"
"Well, your father's going to be late again, so I was thinking we could just order a pizza." Lily's mom turned back to the phonebook, then sniffed, and turned back to Lily. "Do you smell smoke?"
"Um, no. I'll be upstairs."
Lilt smoked two more cigarettes that night. She climbed out her window onto the roof to do it. Her youngest brother was the only one who knew she even went out there anymore, and he was too young to understand things like underage smoking. She brought her notebook and writing pen with her and wrote three separate songs. They were all sad or mournful. She tried to write an angry song, but the effort was listless, and the song ended up another sad one. She flicked the ashes off the end of her current cigarette and a spark hit her ankle. (A/N: Sue me.) It stung for a brief second, then continued to smart. Lily stared at the mall red mark for a few seconds, reveling in the pain, how alive the pain felt, and sighed almost happily. She finished off the song she was working on and headed in.
Morgan and Mordred, the Fraternal Twin Muses: please excuse Gaia…she's got, shall we say, the little red flag waving. She's moody because her mother got the wrong pads.
Thanks guys. And thanks everyone who reviewed. *bangs coconuts together* on with the fic!
A week passed, and then a few days passed. Lily continued to remain distant from Travis, Ray, RFR, and school. Her grades began to slip. Ray, Lily, and Lily's mother and sister (her father and brothers had been gone that night) remained the only people who had any inkling what had happened to Lily. And Ray continued to hold his peace.
Lily woke up one day and realized it had been 12 days since That Night. She did not know why this felt significant, only that it was, in some way, significant. She got up and dressed, and didn't let anyone touch her all through school, even her older sister, who had been the only one Lily trusted That Night to help her undress and get from her room to the shower, and the shower to her bed.
After school that day, she went to RFR as usual, but did not say anything. There were two separate call-ins wondering if Shady Lane was even there that day. After RFR, Lily headed home instead of to Mickey's as was customary. It was a good three-mile walk, and she would have to go through a rather shady part of town, but Lily could use the walk. She was passing a group of older kids, perhaps in grade 11 or 12, who were smoking. For some reason, this fascinated her, enough that she was compelled to approach them.
"Can I bum a smoke?"
She received a white and tan cylinder in response. She took the proffered lighter and lit up. She was hard pressed not to cough as she took a puff. The older kids struck up a conversation, asking what grade she was in, how old she was, who she normally hung out with, normal teenage conversation fare, as well as what got her started on smoking, whether she did any other drugs, and what cigarettes she normally smoked. In other words, normal teenage conversation fare, just the type that even the dimmest were smart enough not to use around *you*, dear reader. She considered lying and saying 12, 17, other grade 12s, but instead told the truth, of 9, 14, and 3 other grade 9s named Ray, Robbie, and Travis. To their comments on how young she was, she responded "Everyone's gotta start somewhere."
She hung out with the older group, whose names and ages she learned were Amy, 17, Lisa, 17, Morgan, 16, Brian, 19, and Mordred, 19, for a while longer. Lisa and Brian were going out, and Morgan and Mordred were brother and sister. Just before she left, Amy handed her a pack of cigarettes with 2 missing and a matchbook. "Everyone's gotta start somewhere."
Lily hid the cigarettes and matches in her bag, said goodbye to everyone, and left.
"Oh, hi Lily, how was school?"
"Fine, mom. What's for dinner?"
"Well, your father's going to be late again, so I was thinking we could just order a pizza." Lily's mom turned back to the phonebook, then sniffed, and turned back to Lily. "Do you smell smoke?"
"Um, no. I'll be upstairs."
Lilt smoked two more cigarettes that night. She climbed out her window onto the roof to do it. Her youngest brother was the only one who knew she even went out there anymore, and he was too young to understand things like underage smoking. She brought her notebook and writing pen with her and wrote three separate songs. They were all sad or mournful. She tried to write an angry song, but the effort was listless, and the song ended up another sad one. She flicked the ashes off the end of her current cigarette and a spark hit her ankle. (A/N: Sue me.) It stung for a brief second, then continued to smart. Lily stared at the mall red mark for a few seconds, reveling in the pain, how alive the pain felt, and sighed almost happily. She finished off the song she was working on and headed in.
