The names are not mine, the rest - is.
Voracious
Looking at myself in the mirror, I can't stop thinking about the party, about him. The every which way we could meet with words, with touch. He would brush against me, bump into me maybe and we'd talk. He would see me and head straight for me, the first thing he thinks of. I sigh, lost in fantasy - Nettie begins to ask questions - reality grounding my daydreams; they crash heavy on the floor, and I sit back on the bean bag she ever so gladly acquired from a rummage at the all girls school downtown, it's comfy and real. But I don't want it, I don't want this. I want the broody boy I can't not see as he walks across campus. His eyes to the ground, lamenting in his own story, his own thoughts. What are they? Does he think of me? Imagine if he were to think of me, dress for me, because of me. I'm crazy with every which way he could see me, walk over to me; our worlds colliding.
Yep, this dress will do it. It's pink and black and mesh and cute and so I keep my knee socks on because they match. Who cares if they're ripped. My thighs are on show and I hope they play good music tonight. WV Six are known for good parties. Whatever that means. Nettie said we should go more; I like to dance, we can just go and dance, and get high. Though, I've only been to like, one party before and some guy Mark, or maybe it was Mike or something like that tried to touch me. He was so big, a big footballer, standing over me, talking about the win and then, well, he threw up on me. So I didn't want to go back. I didn't want to talk to all the forgettable Matt's of the world. But I do want to get high for the first time. And I do hope I get to see Edward tonight.
-o-
I'm so fucking high, I think I'm leaning against people. Just leaning against them. And the thing is, they don't tell me to stop. They don't even know me but what they see and what they think they know about me tells them it's okay. If I was that guy - bulky and towering, drunk, and stifling others ability to just be - I would be looked at with contempt. I would be talked about, annihilating my quest to know her. For months, I've stayed on the outside. For months, I've tried to forget, all the while maintaining a sense of...mystery. It's what they want. The mystery. And so my very existence draws them in, creating a ready-made meal. It's for the taking. I could. All of them. Right now. A rampage, quick. Or not. A blood bath. Sexy sweet, the blood of my fellow freshman. But I won't. And so I don't. I just wait. I'm waiting for something else to happen because I'm so fucking high, I really can't do anything. The room and it's people are abstractly ideal, almost unreal, and this is perfect. If she comes in now, if she walks in right now, I won't be killing her. I won't be drinking her blood and she'll be okay. She'll be in French class tomorrow and I'll be cool. Fuck, I'm so fucking high. I'm thirsty, parched, my mouth is bone dry and I need to hunt.
"Brother, I need a drink." I know my eyes are wide. My immense high, obstructing any subtlety I may have once had, makes them wide so he knows I mean I need to feed.
"Now?" His eyes are wide too.
"Yes. Now. We need to leave."
I don't know what happened. I was supposed to be cool, this was supposed to be the now that we figure it out. But instead it's a now where I'm ravenous, my body exsiccated of it's supply. It has never felt like this before; I've done it a hundred times, and a hundred more than that. Maybe it's because I haven't hunted in a few days. Maybe it's because... she's here.
The Boy inspires me daily, oh and he pre-reads like a boss!
Next chapter: Saturday
I'm like a thirsty Edward; your thoughts are welcome, so come play!
Please and thank you!
samrosey. xo