hyo dudes! see i told you it wouldnt take so long! hehe though it did take a while when you account for the fact that it was already written when i posted the last chappie hehe. but awell, ive had my fair share of people problems this week so thats my exscuse.

haha so anyway (hehe sry im a giggly mood), the usual read and review type thing. but really review! please, pleasy pleasy! but even if you decide you want to be an insubordinate cure, enjoy nonethless (i love that word (nonetheless))

Sheena suddenly looked up at the clock on the VCR.

"Oh man! Get some candles, quick!"

I didn't move, though my eyes hesitantly darted up from the movie to stare into her fretful ones.

Damn it, I couldn't tell if she was being honest or playing a game. Usually when she's playing around, a flicker of a smile goes through her expressions, as though just thinking about the trick she's about to pull cracks her up. There was no smile or flicker of one.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice a bit more monotoned then I had intended.

My eyes wandered back to the moving images on the screen. Seconds later, I realized my rudeness and hoped I hadn't come across as the submissive freak I truly am. If I had, she didn't take any notice.

"Jeeze fuckin' Louise, skits, get off your ass! Candles pronto!" she ordered, hopping up off the couch and quickly shutting off the TV.

As if the power button operated me as well, I reluctantly went into action.

"Hey! Whatever you're gonna do wid them, do it on the fire escape, ok? The last fuckin' thing I need is for my mum to think I smoked pot in her house," I warned Sheena as I passed over some of our Shabbat candlesticks and 3-mismatched candlestick holders.

"Don' worry bout it," she retorted in a mockingly 'Godfather'-esc type accent.

I followed Sheena into my room, noting her brisk walk, her skirt flying up with every swift swing of her heavenly hips. I plodded along at her heels, hoping she wouldn't do anything irreversible to my house like lighting it on fire or something like that.

"What the fuck do you need these for any who?"

She didn't answer.

"You need a lighter?"

"Skittery could I please have a lighter?" she repeated in a superfluous voice, as if I were trying to teach her manners. She made an attempt at a cute face that didn't end up all looking all that cute (cute faces never look how they're supposed to.)

Digging in my pockets I handed over my lighter and watched in awe as she scrambled to open the fire escape. Finally, with much assistance from yours truly, it was open, a cold draft of air calmly blowing in to my tepid room.

"I'm not going out there, it's fucking freezing!"

Shivers were going up and down my spine and my bare feet had already begun to go numb.

"I think not! And if you really can't handle the heat…haha chill," she corrected herself, easing her body through the window and onto the fire escape, "put on a coat. This is more important then your insubordinate needs such as warmth and motion in your hands and fingers!"

She gave a startling belly laugh, placing the candles on the thin railing separating us from a 6-story drop.

I obeyed…of course.

After a couple minutes of digging through a pile of clothes, I was able to find a trench coat me and blink had found on the street one day after school, and hesitantly put it on.

Technically we shared it, blink and me, but he hadn't asked me about it in months so figured he didn't want it anymore.

Even still, I felt weird putting it on… like he would come out from somewhere and…I dunno…do something I guess. Aw fuck, I wasn't even sure what I was scared of… I guess it was only we both liked the jacket which then creates this connection. Hell, just putting it on made me feel like I was giving in to him and somewhere he was smiling at me. Which is fucking bad of course. Smiling happy and the last thing I want is for that fucker to be happy.

As I fumbled with this insecurity, Sheena came back inside and was quizzically staring at my stereo as if her glare would somehow produce sound from it.

Of course this wasn't working.

"Hey skits, how do you turn on this here contraption of yours?" she finally voiced in a southern accent, mockingly banging the sides of the great black box like monkeys do on TV.

"Um, I'm pretty sure there is a switch that says on." I replied in an over-the-top sarcastic tone.

I probably sounded like an ass but if I did, neither of us took notice.

Again and again I kept getting the feeling that I was pleasing blink. It wouldn't go away. It was like his bony hand was prodding away at my thoughts and twirling them as if he owned them. My head started to pound and I broke out into a light sweat. I was doing what he wanted me to. I was associating with my past! This is what he wanted; to show me I hadn't moved on and I still emotionally relied on him and the others. Like…like I couldn't move on from them…and I still kept all the memories because…cause unlike them I didn't have a life anymore. My memories of them were my life. But that wasn't true! No way in hell was that fucking true. Sheena was there. I had Sheena.

I wanted to scream, I did scream though nothing came from my mouth. He was still watching me… he was watching me… from…from somewhere.

I began to turn madly, searching for blink…for him to jump out and tell me that I'm a fucking poser or to laugh at me and my blackness.

"Hey skits…you all rightie there?"

I stopped spinning, feeling incredibly nauseas and watched as the room slowly unfolded once more. Sheena had spoken but I didn't have an answer. Nodding hesitantly, I peeled off the jacket and tossed it through the open window, planning to kick it down the steps once we got out there.

Sheena eyed me. "Its good to see someone in this dreary generation understands the magnificence of twirling!" she proclaimed melodramatically before lowering her voice to a whisper "though remember use it for good…not evil."

I smiled broadly, glad she hadn't further questioned my panic attack. Was that what it was? I once had a pen pal in 7th grade who used to get panic attacks but him being from espana, I never really knew what the fuck he was saying. A shiver went through my body as I considered there actually being something wrong with me. It scared me a lot… like it sincerely scared me.

I clawed for the black veil and it came easily, warm and heavy and comforting…there was nothing wrong with me. I'm a teen, I'll be back on my feet again…I was just undergoing a dire emotional trauma. It's probably the fucking norm to feel… insecure…times a million.

Running my hands through my hair I sauntered over to Sheena, now tapping the boom box gently with her black finger nails- I had convinced her to color them black after the non-existent, all-in-my-head conversation- though still tracing her eyes over every button sported by the box.

Flipping up a switch on the side of the box, Generation X came to life, screeching and howling and sending an electric vibe soaring about the room. The ambiance lingered even after Sheena had gingerly replaced the CD with a mix marked 'soundtrack to the day among days'.

"Gracias, por favor" she exclaimed, glancing up at the black clock above my bed.

The tune to 'Right On Time' slowly began to emit from her lips.

I smiled at her still fumbling with the boom box, her skirt hitched up on her thighs revealing some very sexy legs decked out in white fishnets over black tights. She had on a hunting hat over her red and purple braids which she had been wearing since I had seen her earlier that morning. I liked the hat a lot; it sorta reminded me of one my dad used to have. Probably in storage now, along with his other stuff. Seeing Sheena wearing something like it made me consider hauling it out of our vault downstairs.

She continued to press buttons until I figured she didn't know where the play button was either. I bent down next to her and pressed a giant blue button next to her hand, hearing the small mechanical clicks of the boom box that always gave me the sinking feeling that it was destroying my CD.

I actually called them up once, Sony, asked if the shitty sounds my stereo was making meant it was fucked up…the girl on the other end didn't know so I hung up.

Sheena gave me a pat on the leg for a thanks and quickly rushed over to the front of the room. An orange coat was thrust into my face.

"You don't like coats very much, do you?" she asked dismally, glancing about the room and its many piles of Black clothes.

In my book, jackets or coats or whatever were the same thing as sweatshirts so I never bothered with them.

"Nah. But I'm warning you, this orange could be my doom!" I pronounced, shaking a fist full of carroty sleeve at her.

She gave me a grim grin as 'Pennyroyal Tea' began to crawl out of the stereo, sending weird lofty vibrations through my body.

"Hey, hey, hey! Don't you be underestimating the magic of orange! I'm telling ya, the color works wonders! Now out, out the window. C'mon lil' doggie."

Taking my arm she dragged me away from the stereo, orange ball of cloth in hand, and led me out on to the fire escape.

I don't like being out on fire escapes. Running down them is fine or walking around on them, but just sitting there… it made me nervous. There's a sure death right there in front of you. Just swing your legs over the side and you're gone. Twelve flights and then… squish. No emotional block either. I'm so fucking depressed half the time…I dunno…it scares me. Like what if…what if I just cant take it…what if it just…I'm in over my head. Sitting out there…well it made me skittery! Hell, that's why I'm called Skittery…not cause of fire escapes but cause of my inexplicable paranoia. Well inexplicable to them at least. I sure as hell know why I get so fucking anxious over everything.

Sitting there with Sheena I wasn't so worried. I knew if I wanted to she wouldn't stop me and usually whenever anyone tries to stop me it only makes me want to do it more…in spite of them and shit.

A steady gust blew east from the Hudson and I was damn glad Sheena had given me her disgusting orange piece of cloth. Wrapping it around my billowy black figure I felt warmer just knowing it kept her warm everyday.

Out of the corner of my eye, a fiery ball appeared on the railing and it took me a moment to realize it was one of the candles.

I didn't want to jump off the fire escape. Not now. It didn't seem worth it…ya know…to fuck myself up while I was enjoying myself. It would be pretty fucking pathetic actually. Cause really…you never know when things might improve. Maybe I'm just suffering from karma or reverse karma or something and things will get better soon. But then again that's just hope speaking. Like hope that Sheena might amount…hell I dunno even know what to. She might become some sort of goddamn messiah for me… like a friendly calling for losers.

Aw shit, Fuck hope. What has faith ever given me but oodles of disappointment and a bunch of shit for brains.

I felt a tug on the extremely girly jacket and whirled around to find Sheena sitting, her legs dangling over the sides of the escape.

"Pop a squat."

And I did, sitting next to her on the metal base, pressing my face into the railing. The cool metal felt good on my cheeks and made me feel animate for the first time in days.

"So what's this?" I asked finally as 'Pennyroyal Tea' softly faded into 'Jesus Doesn't Want Me For A Sunbeam.'

Using her fore fingers, Sheena began to conduct the song to an invisible orchestra set out before her.

"It's his death day." She managed to reply between hums.

I nodded understandably, "hey, so what is your dealio with Kurt Cobain, any who?"

I hoped I hadn't probed a wrong nerve or anything like that. I mean he was her like fictional lover and all. What the fuck am I saying? Hell, she was fucking obsessed with him. Some people get iffy about their obsessions, I dunno.

Her eyes flashed eagerly and a quirky smile set about her face.

"What do you mean?" she asked tentatively in the most normal voice I had ever heard her use.

"I dunno, like…why are you so in love with him and all?"

Shit, I hadn't meant to sound so obnoxious. Fuck, I sounded like Cowboy, rude and careless and shit! Oh man, I needed to fix it. But I couldn't say anything else cause that would be driving it home.

Sheena hadn't seemed to notice my tone and instead looked incredibly deep in thought, like Cowboy had last Monday during science. Her face joined mine against the railing, her eyes scrutinizing the metal bars next to her forehead.

"I dunno…" she trailed off in a hollow like voice.

She didn't answer for a few moments, her eyes now diverged from the bars and staring unseeingly at some point between my head and the building next to us. I was starting to get worried she was one of those people who get off on their own mental tangents.

My dad used to that all the time. You'd ask him a question and he'd start out like he really knew his shit but suddenly an 'umm' would appear. All conversation was stopped and his eyes wandered away from your own. Unless you were able to pry him off that 'umm' you'd be left with a middle-aged man humming the same syllable, staring off into space. When I was really little I would get annoyed with him. But as I got older I became jealous. What was he thinking about that required so much goddamn thought that he could even finish a response? If it was that important that he couldn't wait a couple minutes to answer, why wasn't he telling me! I had always heard my mum bragging about how my dad was a philosopher to all her female friends but at the time I had no fucking clue what that meant. I finally decided it was some one who was paid to have imaginary friends and that's why my dad never answered my questions. He was always working.

I ran my hand through my hair frustratingly, trying to draw back Sheena's attention. It didn't work.

"Sheena," I finally whispered loudly; this wasn't like the other small-talk questions I asked girls. I really wanted to know why she was so fucking obsessed with Kurt cobain?

She giggled loudly and pressed her face harder against the bars, turning away from me and the spot next to my head.

"It just started one day when I saw his picture," she began finally "and ya, he was fucking gorgeous but I dunno… he looked like… like…I dunno… he knew me or something… he looked like me."

She cocked her head to one side and squinted her eyes at the darkness. I nudged her lightly in the arm. I wanted her to go on… I wanted to know about what she had with him cause I wanted it too. Not with him but…the ability to have someone like him, some messiah to follow and keep me alive.

"Everything that I was feeling…everything I was called in school and every friend I didn't have…well he didn't have that friend either…we were the same person… ya know… like we were both made from the same shit. And the more I found out about him the more I was… I dunno… seduced. Fuck, he was like a drug or something…I just couldn't tare myself away. I kept finding these new levels of him. A level of his depression. Level of his antisocialness…all these things I didn't know about him. And the more I learned the more knowledge I wanted. So I kept reading interviews. Kept listening to more of his basement tapes…ya know the ones with the real good stuff on them. His music was always in my head whenever some rich ho called me a dyke. During gym, while I was doing those goddamn sit-ups and the bitch next to me was laughing at me cause I couldn't do them, he was up there next to the pipes smiling and telling me it was alright. He followed me around."

Suddenly she blushed which made me blush too. Straightening her head and unsquinting her eyes she let out a burst of words "aghh! I told you I'm a weirdo. I see dead people! And I'm not just acting like Hailey Joel Osmond."

I pretended to think for a minute, making a sour expression as if pondering something hard.

"Well, do you care if you're a weirdo?" I asked inquisitively.

She shook her hatted head vigorously "actually I'm quite proud of my insane state of mind."

"And I don't care if you're a weirdo. Kurt Cobain doesn't care if you're a weirdo either. So, onward, I say! Carry on in your story!"

Sheena giggled again.

"As you wish it!" she stated promptly before lying back on the fire escape, looking over at me to do the same. Taking the hint I laid myself down next to her, watching the smile on her face grow even wider (if at all possible.)

"Ahem," she cleared her voice "so anyway my parental units began to get worried seeing as I didn't have any friends and all I ever talked about was nirvana. My motherly unit said she would get me a shrink but…it never happen. My fatherly unit said he would find me some work buddy of his who had a kid I could play with but that never happened either. Ya… the closest they have gotten to 'dealing with my situation' was getting me a job when I was 14. But Kurt was always there. He was my calling... like a mental calling. And I was his follower. All I ever did was quote him… I mean he had an answer to everything so why not? Fuck, I went around for months telling people who asked me about my antisocialness that 'friends are just enemies you haven't met.' Everything he said…it felt like…like he was saying it directly to me kinda."

She stopped and it was like I had stopped breathing. The air was stale and the sky was dull. I felt like all I could do was wane in her words. It felt like the night was waning in her words.

"Sheena?" I said finally after a moment of silence that surprisingly wasn't at all awkward.

"Mmhmm?" she asked jadedly, the first time I had ever heard her voice sound genuinely tired.

Both of our eyes were trained up at the monotonous, dark sky.

"If you were gonna kill your self, how would you do it?" I waited nervously for her to answer.

There is one standing rule that every teenager knows; how ever outgoing you are, approach suicide with caution. It's a worldwide rule. Punks and preps alike, you gotta assess the person before asking the questions.

"I would slit my wrists," she replied dully, once again her tone weirdly normal. Ordinarily normal.

From that moment on I knew Sheena was depressed…like clinically depressed. If she had said taking pills or shooting herself it wouldn't have been the same; those responses don't involve pain. Slitting your wrist was a quenching pain. I mean, I could kinda tell before hand too –hell, if I was the girl's only friend she had to be a bit unhappy- but this confirmed it.

So, I decided to take the plunge, "have you ever tried?"

She smiled pleasantly up at the sky, " 'If you die you're completely happy and your soul somewhere lives on. I'm not afraid of dying. Total peace after death, becoming someone else is the best hope I've got.'"

eeeeeew that was a bad chappie wasnt it. so depressing (sigh). aw well. next chappie will be up eventually though i cant garentee (although my muse and his preppy girlfriend are no longer quite as zealous over each other as they used to be, my motivation is dying.) but anyway, REVIEW!