Title: Doesn't Matter
Featuring: Kagome
Rated: PG-13 for blood.
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Doesn't Matter
The music is loud.
The beat pulses through the floor.
I can't hear myself think.
The multicoloured lights flash in my eyes even when I close them.
People keep coming in.
Circles spread out everywhere, dancing.
Some songs are familiar, while others I've never heard of.
She's there too.
It's weird.
I don't know what I'm doing here.
Why I came?
We wonder around the half full room, sitting on top of the bleachers.
More people pile in throught the doors.
I know a lot of people.
I'm surprized they came.
I don't talk to any of them.
Half an hour passes, and I wonder again.
What was I thinking coming here?
I don't dance.
I can't dance.
I am not supposed to be here!
I leave the room for a few minutes and go to the bathroom.
The halls are mostly empty except for a few stray teachers.
The outside is cooler.
No people.
Goood.
I can breathe again.
After I got tired of looking in the stupid mirror (which hates me I dragged my ass back to the dance.
Even more people were there now.
All dancing and a few spread out on top of benches.
I look around.
I don't know what some people are doing, but that is NOT dancing.
It's sick and wrong, and dear god!
I feel like an idiot standing in one place, not moving.
A few more minutes and we start moving a bit.
A few more minutes and I get the hang of it.
I sorta blend.
Sort of.
Time flies by and the last song is playing.
My skin is burning, it's too hot.
The song ends and everyone goes for the exit.
The DJ is still calling out numbers.
We're out the door.
The locker wount open, and i press my burning skin to the cool metal doors.
It feels sooo good.
I wander outside and the wind blows away the heat.
It's not too cold.
People are outside waiting for rides and friends.
I walk home alone.
The streets are empty as I get farther from school.
A few blocks away and the park is in view.
It's abandoned.
No one sitting and the old wood green benches.
No one walking the dogs on the snow covered paths.
The trees sway lazily in the wind.
I feel okay.
Not scared because it's so dark.
Not afraid if someone attacked me, no one would hear me scream.
I feel safe.
It's dark.
It's like a second skin.
I feel home.
I cross the street and the park is gone.
Now I see people.
Some one homeless.
Some one swearing in the back alley.
A girl runs out and a guy chases her.
She runs into the store and he walks away.
I step up to the building and push open the door.
My access card refuses to work, and only after the second time does the door click open.
The light floods the lobby and I don't feel so okay anymore.
It's too bright and my eyes hurt.
I glare at the camera, and flip off whoever is watching.
My good mood just went to hell.
I step into the elevator a slump against a wall.
The lights are dimmer.
Thank god.
It comes to my floor way to fast, and I drag my self to the door.
I open the door and the noise of the TV floats to my still ringing ears.
I shrug out of my jacket and walk to my room.
No one says anything.
They don't care I had to walk home alone.
They don't care that someone could have easily done something.
They don't care.
I don't care either.
But that's different.
Even my cat doesn't come to meow at me.
I don't feel home anymore.
I feel like a stranger entering someone's lives.
Like I just live here.
They are not really my parents.
And I'm not really their daughter.
And no one really cares.
I didn't turn out like they wanted.
They didn't teach me to behave.
I'm just a temporary stranger.
Taking up space till 18.
I drop the dirty clothes in a pile on the floor.
I don't wanna clean.
I hate cleanliness.
It makes me feel like a freak.
I need to have a messy inviroment.
I'm a mess.
I kick the shoes off and they bounce of the wall, leaving a wet mark.
I don't care.
I crawl onto my bed.
The red comforter smels like the hawaiian ginger shower gel I bought a few weeks ago.
I take my fluffy stuffed dog from under my pillow and turn on the tv.
The volume goes up as I flip through the chanels and try not to cry.
Two more years.
Then I'm out of here.
It's gonna be different.
The next morning i wake up with the tv still on and the remote on the floor.
My door is still closed.
They don't care.
And I don't care.
Anymore.
I pick up the remote and throw it at the TV screen.
Pieces of glass, crack and fly on the bed and floor.
One piece flys across my cheeck.
Blood rolls down onto the red blancket.
Blood mixes with tears.
Nothing happens.
No one comes.
It doesn't matter.