Can't You See that I'm Choking?

By: Bernadette

Summary: It was everything. Everything was falling apart. Something's wrong and I don't know what to do. I'm choking in this hell that I call my home. Can anyone hear me? Can anyone hear my screaming?

Author's Note: Mild use of curse words.

Chapter 4: What a fucking nice way to say 'hi'

"Hey Bubbles, can I borrow this shirt?" Blossom yelled at the other side of the bathroom door. Today was Thursday, the second to last day of school, (thank goodness). It felt like yesterday was the whole entire week instead of just one day, probably because Blossom brought up the subject of her detention every moment when she had nothing else to think of. That, might be the reason why, for all three of the girls.

"What shirt are you talking about?" Bubbles said, turning off the shower along with the water pump. She wrapped a towel on her delicate body, the towel absorbing individual drops of hot water that remained on her skin. Bubbles grabbed another towel and bended forward, pulling her hair down to face the ground. The towel's base lay against the nape of her neck, capturing all of her blonde hair. With a twist of the towel, Bubbles lifted her head up and pushed the stem of the twisted towel over her head.

"You can come in, I'm covered," Bubbles called out from within the bathroom. Blossom slowly opened the door, steam rushing to caress her tanned face. Blossom blinked and stared at her blonde-haired sister.

"Did you have a shower or did you have a steam bath instead?" Blossom said, shutting the mahogany door behind her. She cocked up a red eyebrow and pulled the shirt in front of her.

"Yeah, so can I borrow this shirt for today? I didn't mean to go digging through your stuff, but I just saw this shirt and I wondered if I can just wear it for today," Blossom said, glancing at her sister. Bubbles turned to look at the shirt, her forefinger rested against her chin while her thumb remained under it.

"Hm.. that shirt? It's one of my favorites and I usually where them on special occasions," Bubbles mumbled, her lips scrunched up on one side of her face. She was seriously contemplating whether or not if she should let her own sister to borrow this particular shirt. Bubbles blue eyes trailed over to Blossom, her cerulean orbs twinkling.

"Yeah, okay you can borrow it," the flaxen-haired girl said, giving her sister a light smile. All of a sudden, Bubbles snapped her head back to Blossom and slapped her hand on her sister's neck. She stared wide-eyed at Blossom, giving her an 'oh my God' look. Blossom stepped back, shocked by her sister's actions.

"….?"

"Is that a hickey?!" Bubbles exclaimed, her bright blues orbs wide. Blossom returned Bubbles' astonished look with one of her own. What the hell was she talking about?!

"What..?" Blossom asked, her eyebrows knitted against each other.

"I know you don't have any boyfriends or anything but that thing is there and usually bruises don't appear out of nowhere and it's right there on that spot where usually those things come from! Oh my gosh, do you have a boyfriend and never told us about it?!" Bubbles babbled, raising her hands in an animated motion.

"Wait! Wait! Wait! Bubbles, calm down! What are you talking about?" Blossom asked, grabbing her sister's arms and pulling them down so she wouldn't hit anything, like the mirror.

Bubbles snatched her arms away from her sister and went to the sink's cabinet. Her hands pulled out a drawer and within that drawer resided brushes, combs, hairclips and whatnot. With a shuffle of her hand, Bubbles grabbed a hand-held mirror and thrusted it at her sister's neck, angling it in a manner where she could see her neck and where Blossom could see it as well.

"THAT! What's that?!" Bubbles exclaimed, pulling on the towel that hung against her body. With all of those movements she made, she almost had undone her towel.

Blossom grabbed the mirror from Bubbles grasp and angled it in her vision, the way Bubbles angled the mirror didn't exactly show where the "hickey" was.

" I don't see it," Blossom said, putting the mirror down and cocking an eyebrow up at Bubbles. Bubbles released an aggravated sigh and shoved the mirror right back at Blossom.

"It's right there!" Bubbles said shoving the mirror right back at her sister's face. Bubbles angled the mirror right back from where she positioned it from the first place.

There, (finally) Blossom saw the hickey of what Bubbles was trying to point out from before. Though, it wasn't a hickey in fact, it was shaped too differently to be a hickey. It was more like a bruise rather than that particular thing, well, weren't hickies bruises in the first place?

"It's a bruise…" Blossom muttered, placing her hand against the sickly-looking piece of skin. She frowned, wondering where in the world this thing came from.

"Ehh, who cares, probably hit something when I was sleeping," Blossom said airily, waving her hands at Bubbles. She minded the bruise, but the thing that got to her the most is how the hell she got it in the first place.

"Well, you don't have any boyfriends from what I know and even if you did, I think that we would notice," Bubbles commented.

"Unless…you've been sneaking behind us and got yourself a boyfriend and and…"

"Bubbles, please, if I did—note the if, if I did have a boyfriend, you and Buttercup would be the first to know and I promise that I don't have a boyfriend, 'kay got it, comprende?" Blossom turned to look at her blonde-haired sister and arched a red eyebrow; the look she gave her sister meant that she should just drop the subject.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, but what're you going to do with that big bruise on your neck, it's not as if those people will ignore it," Bubble said pointedly, rubbing lotion on her legs.

"Simple. We have make-up right?"

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Blossom approached her school feeling rather anxious and jumpy. She decided that for good exercise (something she did not need to do) she should just walk to school instead of flying. Every few minutes she would pop open her purse (something she also borrowed from Bubbles) and check if the foundation was smeared, messy or no longer covering the disgusting abomination. It was true that…that thing on her neck wasn't a hickey, but she was just silently wondering what would happen if anyone were to get some bad impressions on it. For her schooling career, it almost seemed damnable. Alas, she couldn't miss school because of something she knew was a simple bruise, but why was it that she thought of it so much?

'Is it because I'm bothered that…this thing is really a…hickey?' Blossom doubted herself. How can a bruise form on her neck? It wasn't logical for her to 'hit her neck on something' and just get a bruise from that? It was totally irrational and completely illogical. The only reasonable reason for her to have this…thing on her neck was that someone actually did sneak into her room and gave it to her.

"But wouldn't I wake up if that happened?" Blossom said thoughtfully. She tucked her hand under her chin, her eyebrows knitted deep into thought. Why did she doubt her first explanation? Was she giving into the pressure of every other rumour and actually suspecting something was amiss?

"Nah." The red-head shook her head and kept walking. She was pleased that she wasn't being bothered by the civilians; it almost felt as if she wasn't an actual superhero. Well, being famous has its perks though, but times like these…they're totally priceless.

"Ya' know, for a smart chick like you, you have a nasty habit of talking to yourself out loud; it's like having a book being read to you." At that statement, Blossom turned her hair whipping past her. It felt like she hit something, 'cause her hair snagged on something. She turned halfway, her gaze catching the same red-headed male that she met during detention. He stared at her blankly and tugged her hair, in a not-so-friendly fashion.

"Ya' need ta' get this hair chopped off. Why do girls always hafta' keep their hair long and clean? It ain't gonna do much, just get dirty in the end," he stated, harrumphing. He scoffed at her, giving her a rather rude and of a "I-don't-give-a-damn" stare.

"And you are?" Blossom asked, cocking up an eyebrow.

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Brick.

How damn funny is it to be created by a stupid monkey that can't even handle three stupid little girls who sleeps with a nightlight? And from that creator, you have to refer to him as father, when you clearly can kick his hairy ass and be the new shit around here? Well, I think it's pretty damn funny. Heh, if I knew that back then, then maybe none'a of this shit woulda' happened.

Red hair flashed in front of me. I recognized that hair color anywhere; even if I was dyin' and my vision was goin', I'd remember it. Heh, I guess I should talk to her. I followed after the Power Dope leader, my hands shoved into my pocket. I dunno why I just don't attack her. It'll be swift and down to the point, but I wanna take my time, plan out everything before letting the last, and most destructive bomb blow.

Oh, she took a turn over that street.

I don't think Butch or Boomer know the depth of my hate for these Power Bitches, I think Butch may have an idea of it, but I don't think Boomer has any clue at all. Butch, as far as we go as brothers, I know that he'll give in to that quick temper of his. Maybe if he saw his counterpart, things'll change, don't know why, but I think something's gon' happen and it ain't gon' be bad or good. Boomer…that blonde idiot's fallen in love with his own counterpart. Even after he knows that she was the one who killed him, he still likes 'er. Heh, what a damn idiot.

Huh? Where is she goin'? Ain't she supposed to go straight down to Green Run Avenue? Damn girl.

Well, I think I'm much more complicated than my brothers. Though they have similar ideals just like me, I know that my type of hatred for these girls go way down. As much I think about that 'incident' I realize what a damn weakling I was, being scared of nonexistent particles called 'cooties'? How fucking funny.

I tilted my head to the side, trynna' find that damn good girl. It ain't that hard to find her, she's basically the only one out in this damn city that has red hair, 'sides me. I watched her as she took another turn, her red hair swishing back and forth as she walked. What the fuck? Is that hair some type'a horse hair? Can she move it at will or somethin'?

I glared at the back of her head, willing her to turn and face me. Daring her to turn around and recognize me; to recognize the boy that she killed all that time ago. I wonder what's she gon' look like when remembers who the hell I am. Maybe she'll glare at me and lecture me like the good little ass she is? Hah! That'll even pump me up to bash that pretty little face of hers.

Damn, I'm getting turned on.

I smirked and weaved through the crowds. I don't feel like waiting for her to turn around. I want her to fucking face me and looks down at me as if I was trash. It'll fuel my hate and anger and make her demise even sweeter than it already is.

I ain't too pent up on getting the other puffs, in fact, my brothers got dibs on that shit. It's just that simple, don't touch other people's belongings and we're cool.

I pushed through the wave of people, making sure I don't apply too much force into it. I don' want the little girl to find out that I'm alive just yet, but I guess that all depends if she recognizes me or not. Heh, I'm almost wishing for her to remember me, but it ain't gonna be that much fun.

Hmm? What's this?

I homed in on Puff Bitch and listened in to her conversation…

"Wow, she actually talks to herself?" I said to myself, chuckling. What an idiot! Ya think being the beloved leader people'll actually listen to you. Guess all this power shit ain't what it's cracked up to be.

"Yo, you know, for a smart chick like you, you have a nasty habit of talking to yourself out loud; it's like having a book being read to you." I sneered distastefully, giving an additional humph.

I winced slightly and grabbed her long hair. Damn, why the hell does she have such long ass hair? I remember when I we were four-years-old, her hair even touched the ground, but keeping her hair this long after all this time is pretty stupid. I grimaced inwardly—I was touching her hair. The only time I wanted to touch her is if I pounding the living fuck outta' her, other than that, I don't wanna touch her at all.

"Ya' need ta' get this hair chopped off. Why do girls always hafta' keep their hair long and clean? It ain't gonna do much, just get dirty in the end," I said, speaking once more. I rolled my eyes just a bit and stared at her. She grew a bit, I guess. Nothing really important just that she grew some curves and she doesn't have that little girl look to her.

She still looks like a good girl, but she ain't that "good". Blah I don't make sense, but to some bastard who got in the same position as me might probably understand what I mean. Tch.

"And you are?"

Well, I guess that mean she doesn't remember the good ol' times. I shrugged my shoulders and cocked a smile, I ain't gonna loose my cool, I needa' see if I got some skill with the ladies, even if it's the girl that I hate the most.

Author's Note: Okay so check it out. The latest installment to "Can't You See that I'm Choking". Okay, the "hickey" will not be explained until further chapters and I'm pretty sure you'll be like "WTF?!" once you read it. I'm doing the best I can to update, but please note, school--especially high school can be mad hectic. : Please read and review.