Chapter 2: Taranee and Cornelia

Taranee:

17 and a stripper. Yeah, sounds like a teen flick, but its real. I'm that. How'd I get to be this way? Me and my friends. All living together, but all screwed up people.

Taranee slipped on her shiny black thigh high spiked boots. She fixed her sparkling thong and itched at her black bra. She walked over to the bouncer.

"Ummm…I'm gonna take the night off," she told him.

She took her black leather over coat and slipped it on. She winked at the bouncer and pushed her way through the crowd. People gawked at her, whistling as she passed. She smirked and pushed more into the crowd, who were trying to get into the strip club.

Stupid horny jerks. Why can't they just go and get lost. If any of them touch me, I slap them silly. Too bad my powers are gone, or I would burn their sorry asses.

Taranee finally made it through the crowd and started to walk home. The winter breeze freezed Taranee's stomach. She pulled the coat tighter around her body. She smiled as a couple passed by her.

They're so cute. Goddamnit, it's so cold. I can't wait to go home. Irma probably is home, throwing up, and being drunk again. Poor thing. Will is at the consoler's again. God, I feel bad for her. Ever since she broke up with Matt and moved out of her mom's to live with us, all she does is cut herself to relieve the pain. I wish I could help her.

Taranee came up to the apartment door. She braced herself as she opened the door. Water was everywhere and Irma was on the ground, out cold. Taranee screamed.

"Awwwwwwh! Come on, Irma!" Taranee yelled. She closed the door, rolling her eyes.

Cornelia:

Cornelia took a drag out of her cigarette. She exhaled a long stream of smoke. She leans on a brick wall. She sighed, and then took another drag.

God, I wish I could see a flower in my hand right now. I wish I could be in Caleb's arms, but then again I wish for a lot of things.

Cornelia extinguished her cigarette and started to walk home. She sighed.

"Hey cutie!" a voice called after her.

Cornelia looks back and sees a boy running towards her. She rolls her eyes and keeps running. The boy catches up to her. She glares at him.

"Go away, kid!" Cornelia whispers.

"Hey, I hear talk you have some cigarettes. Can I have some?" the kid asks her.

"How old are you, kid?" Cornelia asks.

"15 miss," the kid says.

In one swift move with her arm, Cornelia pins the boy against the brick wall. The boy whimpered in fright. Cornelia hissed.

"Listen kid, I'm not gonna sell you anything. Don't screw up your life."

Cornelia threw the boy on the ground and began walking away. Tears stinged her eyes. Cornelia wiped them away.

That kid's gotta listen. He can't screw up his life. Like I've screwed up mine.