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Chapter Eleven [06 Oct 2003|03:33am] [ mood | sleepy ] “Come pick me up.” “Do you know what fucking time it is? You know, not everyone runs on no sleep Lola.” Kat sounded like she swallowed sand, dry and scratching. She must of been screaming. “I don’t fucking care. I just want to get out of this fucking house. Do you want me to drive instead?” There was a pause. “I am kinda busy right now, can this wait?” Something wasn’t right. I knew Kat longer than anyone else, and I can read her like a picture book. She could keep her feelings from ust about anyone else but me. I tried to figure things out, tried prying some more, tried the sympathetic approach. “No this can’t wait you fucking bitch. I just had one hell of a night, and I need to let off some steam. Now you either get your tubby ass into your piece of shit car, or I will be there in ten minutes to drag your happy ass to Dennys!” “Look Lola, just give me a half hour, I am really tired-” Then it hit me. “Who is over there?” Another pause. With each passing second I felt this building dread in my chest. It felt like a heartburn spread evenly though my nervous system. This pain griped me, paralyzed me, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breath. I knew before she told me. “Trent.” I nearly dropped the phone. A thousand thoughts ran through my head. A thousand unanswerable questions. A thousand accusations. It all fell into place. She must of acquired the scratchy voice from screaming all night from being dicked by him. She sounded so guilty. So ashamed. I went from betrayed, to suicidal, to just plain irate. Hell hath no fury... “Are you still there Lola? Listen-” “You fucking bitch.” I hung up the phone. What else was there to do? I didn’t know who to turn to. Everyone else knew by now, no question about that, and everyone else did not want to deal with me right now. Most likely let me cool off. Fuckers. I had no one else to turn to. No one would listen to me. Well, except... I picked my cell, searched for the number, and waited for someone to answer the phone. “Hello?” “This Tracy?” “Yeah, this is- Lola? Is that you?” She asked me in disbelief. “Yeah,” I answered, not quite believing it myself. “Yeah its me. Can we go to Dennys or something?” “Yeah, you gunna pick me up?” She sounded like she knew, but she couldn’t even begin to understand the impact this would have on not only me, but everyone in our circle of friends. Well now, our circle of enemies. “Yeah, I’ll be there in five.” I hung up the phone and grabbed my keys, still in this dream state, hardly believing that all of it happened. The car ride was completely silent. When we arrived at Dennys, we didn’t even bother to let the server seat us, we just went straight to the booth in the back. “What’s wrong?” Tracy leaned forward from across from me with genuine sympathy on her face. It’s rare to see that now in days, or anything genuine for that matter. It’s hard to sort bullshit from the truth since they run so close together. But if you even try that impossible task, you are left with the unanswerable question: What really is truth? Is it facts you learn growing up, or what your told? Is it defined by intelligence, or the age of books? Or websters dictionary? Maybe there is no real truth, maybe that is the biggest fictional idea ever concocted. Who the fuck cares? Truth is too big a concept for humans, and if we ever DO find something relative to truth, I doubt we could ever understand it. I looked into those big doe eyes, those watery pools, ready to shed a few tears for my sake. “Nothing actually. For once everything is going right, and for once I will be able to control what was never mine.” “I don’t understand.” She began to with drawl, changing emotions like a light switch. Sympathy click Confusion “You will.” I look to the waitress who has been standing there for longer than I would of liked her. “Give me some eggs, and make a happy face with the bacon if that’s possible. Some water too.” I look to Tracy with complete indifference, “Want anything princess?” Dumbfounded, she glances at the menu stand. “Pie sounds good.” If you do the unexpected, you catch people off guard. You switch over from being vulnerable, to being in control. If you do what people expect you to do, you are just playing their game. You are playing their role, you let them control, but if you do what is unexpected you are the one in control. Once they adapt to that habit, you switch it on them again, keep them unaware, keep yourself unpredictable. Keep yourself in control. The irony is that with this chaos of unpredictability, you get this unity of control. It’s simple. Chaos and Unity are symbiotic. They make watch other complete. You cannot have good without evil, peace without war, laughter without tears. Because one couldn’t exist without the other. It’s a hard concept to grasp, but it is so simple. Like most things are. We just make them complex. I walked into Kat’s basement with Tracy, laughing. Everyone was there, shocked to see me there. It was obvious that they were talking about what was happening with me. But I didn’t care. They didn’t know it yet, but they were already my pawns. I already started the game, and they were moving into place. “Hey Lola.” Russell looked at me scared. “What's wrong? Expect me to throw a lamp or something?” I shot a look at Spike, his head was bandaged, and his eyes looked swollen. “How you doing Spike? I’m sorry about what happened. What are you doing out of the hospital?” “They released me this morning, right now I have some Vicodin, so I am doing just fine.” He gave me a grin, happy I wasn’t bitter at him, for once I suppose. “That’s good.” I sat down on a couch away from Kat and Trent, and Tracy joined me nervously. They all looked at me, all waiting for the second shoe to drop. But I was going to save it, drop it when they think that i was all over and forgotten. But I’ll never forget. I’ll never forgive... post comment

Chapter Ten [06 Oct 2003|01:42am] [ mood | accomplished ] My mom abruptly woke me up the next morning, somehow I managed to sleepily get myself undressed and under the covers. I often did things so close to sleep, I forgot I did them in the first place. I think it’s called narcolepsy. Just another disorder to add to the long list of my imperfections. “Where were you last night?” My mother was beautiful to say the least, Texas beauty queen. Her problem was age, no matter how fast she ran, it caught up to her. Often she resented me for my looks and youth. I have no doubt in my mind that if she had the choice of having me me for daughter, or going back in time to adopt instead so she could keep those perky breasts and firm ass, she would realize that she should of gotten an abortion. “Well?” She raised her voice, as her faux blonde curls bounced on her shoulders. I rubbed my eyes and looked up at her, with hateful eyes. “I was sleeping!” As if she gave a shit. “I am not an idiot. I know that.” Oh she knew, did she? Well did she know how precious sleep was to me? Did she know about her daughter roaming around the house only half asleep? Did she care that for the first time in a year, I was having a painless, drug-free sleep? No. Because if she did, I would be choking down tiffany blue and passion fruit pink pills, no doubt another expensive prescription added to our health insurance. “Answer me now. Where were you last night, and why are you here now?” She said that as if she was referring to me as another burden in her hard, difficult, oil-filled, Texan life. Oh poor her. “I was at Violet’s house, we got in a fight over something stupid, I got sick of her bitching at me, so I just asked her older brother Brent to take me home.” If my mother ever listened to me, she would know damn well that Violet was an only child, and if she actually kept up with my lies she would realize that somehow Violet had thirty-something siblings by now. My mother just looked at me with her cold aryan eyes. I hated those eyes. My father was a full blooded Cuban, and never let anyone else forget it, and had brown eyes. They did some family gene research, and were hoping that I would have my mother’s “beautiful” texan blue eyes. I got brown. Surprise, surprise. “Just come down for breakfast, and clean yourself up. You look like shit.” Thanks mom... She turned around and shut the door. Love you too... I tried hard to clean up the dried blood, but my cuts were too deep. So I just pulled on some faded designer jeans and a long sleeve shirt. My hair was hopeless, so I just brushed it, and put it up. I started down the long hall, and I could already feel it. The insults were waiting at the table, ready for me. A meal at my house is like a battle field. Everyone already armed and ready to catapult the blame my way. As I walked down the stairs I could already hear my mom complaining about me. About my failure as a daughter. “She causes me stress Ramón. I mean my dermatologist notices my stress lines-” “Stress lines? Barbie, I think that’s a little far fetched.” I hated when he called her Barbie. Or Babbs. Or Barb. Makes me sick. I just wanna scream at them, “Her name is BAR-BRA ANN!!!” “It doesn’t matter, the point is that my old face cream is no longer as potent as it used to be.” I wonder if she even knows what potent means. “Don’t you mean wrinkle cream?” I pulled out my chair across from my brother. He was staring at me with his own pair of empty aryan eyes. He got the lucky end of the gene pool I suppose. I hated eating at home. Come to think of it, I hated just being at home. Whenever my parents were home, all I got was shit. Usually useless guilt trips, about how I wasn’t good enough to be a part of this proud family. Blah blah blah. “Watch your mouth.” My mom snapped and stared at me long, cold, and hard. I mean I can’t even tell you the last time she smiled at me. I mean, if she wasn’t mocking me. But any attention is good attention. “God forbid I have an opinion of my own.” I take a stab at my eggs, half wishing it was my mom’s eye. My dad takes a step up to manhood and points a finger at me. “Don’t use that tone of voice with your mother.” I always thought that was a load of crap. Tone of voice? It’s a form of nazi control. You can’t say how you feel, not even in the “tone” of your voice. My parents are terrorists. My dad is the Fidel Castro of this household. I personally considered my mom his gay lover, or mannish wife. I only refer to her as mannish because it’s the only thing that really gets under her skin, that and “things ARE bigger in Texas!” My mom was always teased for her broad shoulders, I think kids called her Barbara Man. Clever, huh? Kids can be so cruel. I look to my brother for that undying hope of sympathy, but instead I get the dependable slap in the face. Good old Perry. “You should have more respect for mom.” Shot down once again, like a crippled turkey in a pen against a grenade. Happy Thanksgiving! I guess my brother was always considered the “good one.” Or at least he was after his little accident. He went to a chiropractor because football messed with his spine, and the good doctor broke his back. He was told that he was lucky to be alive. That’s ironic. Lucky that your doctor only paralyzed you from the waist down instead of killing you. Luck to never able to feel your wang for the rest of your life. Lucky him. He was always bitter about it, even though he received loads of sympathy from everyone. Except from me. I don’t mean to be a complete bitch, shit happens. I honestly just believe you should take something like that as an opportunity to improve your self worth, and be a stronger person rather than take the route that my brother was so bent on taking. Transforming from a moron with a football to a paraplegic jackass. Perry took complete advantage of his condition, and even conned the school into not only firing the competent assistant coach, but paying him to replace him as well. Everyone loves putting someone with a disadvantage in a hero position. Because then the school could take complete credit for putting Perry in that position, that is if our school had a winning season. Too bad the doctor couldn’t make him a nice vegetable or something. I would of gotten along with him allot better. “Excuse me but I think I am going to be sick.” I threw my napkin on my plate, now covered in yolk, and left the table, unnoticed. “You see this Ramón? That's another three crows feet!” Poor fucking you, ma. You have such a hard life. post comment

Chapter Nine [03 Sep 2003|06:08am] [ mood | bored ] Chapter Nine After 15 minutes of running I gave up, figuring that he was no longer after me. As soon as I saw the road I forgot all about Trent. I walked down in one direction until I saw a gas station. It was one of those no named pumps with cheap gas, cabin-like, with vegan snack foods. I walked in and asked the teller if I could use the key for the bathroom, the guy didn't bat an eye at my disheveled appearance. He looked at me with indifferent eyes, he looked like the kind of guy who would soak himself in gasoline along with the store and set it all aflame. Burn baby, burn. "Toilet's for customers only." He grinned a smile that could crack paint. He was disgusting, and he was preying on me. I shoved my hand in my jeans and searched for any kind of cash. I decided to just buy a water bottle, it was the cleanest thing in the store anyways. Those freeze-dried whatever could of been frozen in time for all I cared, it still didn't look edible. "Buck-o-Nine, kinda like the band, huh?" He winked at me, with a grin that would be more pleasing too look at as a grimace. Please god, don't tell me he is flirting. "Yeah I guess, Bathroom?" I held my hand out and he dropped the key in my palm, which was covered in some sort of mildew. I just closed my eyes, trying not to imagine what the bathroom would look like. When I walked out I bumped into a greasy looking guy who didn't even bother to hide his leer at my breasts. Men are disgusting. Its the one truthful fact that has helped me along when it comes to dating. The smart ones play it off as the nice guy taken for granted. I have fallen for those once or twice. But lets face it, in this world, there is no nice guy. Just the pigs, and that small percentage that aren't pigs, are gay. I would be a lesbian if it wasn't for the fact that deep down inside, I like to be used. I think every straight girl does. Why else would we put up with their shit? The bathroom wasn't as disgusting as I imagined, but my reflection was. My raven hair was strewn about in tangles, dry blood stained my skin as well as my clothes, and my eyes were blood shot. And all I could think about was "Why the hell was that guy checking me out?" I cleaned up as best I could, (washed my face, put my hair up) but i still looked a mess. I fought the frustrated tears and peered at the mirror. It's cracked a little... My hands franticly flew and broke off a shard. I held it preciously within my fingers. I peered at it for awhile, in a sort of trance, until a renegade tear broke my concentration. Instincts took over, as all sensibility seemed far behind the horizon. Cut. I began slicing away at my skin, blood dripped in every direction, but just after a few nicks on my arms, they were already beginning to feel numb. Time for my legs. I slowly started on my thighs, working down to my calves, stopping at my ankles. I had a problem, I know. I didn't care. This is how I deal, I don't shoot up schools, I don't beat up other kids (without a good reason) I don't shoot up heroin. I bleed. I allow others, for a brief moment to see my pain on the outside, forcing them to feel it. For a moment I was reaching nirvana, I was getting closer with god. "Hey, get out of there! You've been in there long enough! I have other customers you know!" The manager continued to bang at the door. "Alright." I grabbed for some toilet paper to clean up but the roll was empty, he continued banging so hard it looked as if the door would fly right off it's hinges. "Alright!" I began to shout it over and over again. "I get your god damn point! I'm getting out of here!" I swung open the door and saw Trent standing there. "Lets go." "Fuck you, I'd rather walk." He grabbed me by the arm to drag me to the car, and I couldn't help but cry out with pain. "What the-" I tried to stop him, but it was too late. He lifted my sleeve was staring at the fresh cut gashes on my arms. His eyes shot to the ground where I dropped the bloody piece of mirror. "Why did you-" He went for my pant leg, I was too weak to resist. "Oh my god..." "Can't you take a hint?!" I screamed, "Leave me the fuck alone! I managed to slip my arm out from his, with help of the blood, but it was only for a moment, because as soon as I got a few steps away from him, his arms were around me tightly. "Let me go cunt rag!" "No! We are going to the hospital." He turned me facing towards him. "Now." I was getting dizzy. Things were going fuzzy. I nodded, realizing that no matter what I said, it wouldn't change his mind. It was better to catch him off guard anyways. He opened the door for me, and I slipped in, slipped all the way to the drivers side. My shaky hands pressed the lock button, and rolled up the windows, Trent was running along the side, but it was too late. "What the hell do you think your doing! Open this door now!" Stupid Trent, left the keys in the ignition. "No. Not until you promise to take me home. Because if you don't, I will." "Open the door Lola, NOW!" I looked into his eyes, which is something I haven't done as long I could remember. I looked into those cold blue eyes, which now were a shade of grey. "Not until you give me your word, that you will take me straight home." His eyes turned a shade of hopeless, looking at me as if he saw me for the first time. Looking at me with disgust, like some creature de-masked. Then I realized he never loved me, and I will always love him, from then until eternity. No matter how ugly he was. "Fine, you win. Lets go." I couldn't help but grin at his defeat. I won... I opened the door and slid back to the passengers side. It wasn't until we were on our way back to my house, when I realized how exhausted I really was. I fought sleep for as long as I could, but my lids would not permit it. I soon fell into a restless slumber, fighting along nightmares that never ceased. These night mares consisted of myself mostly, running from something. Sometimes it was a serial killer, sometimes a big dog. Who knew. Who cared? Whenever I slept, I rarely had dreams. I was constantly having nightmares, that had the potential to create a scary movie that everyone feared too much to see. I was to afraid to see. Afraid to sleep. That fear always gave me this insomnia, this inability to sleep. When you have insomnia you only sleep for a few hours at a time, if your lucky. The only reason I survived this peril was the constant stoner naps whenever I smoked too much, which was becoming more and more frequent. Who says marijuana is bad for you? The times I stayed sober for awhile however, I ran on no sleep. When you don't sleep for more than 72 hours, you start to hallucinate. I heard things, heard voices. Words or phrases that were never said, I even got paranoid that people were thinking bad things about me. So these days I avoid being clean for as long as possible. Which was both a good and bad thing. Sam once said that weed is the aspirin for the headache of life. I couldn't agree with her more. It's ironic though because once you become dependent on this herb for happiness, or relief, you get headaches if you don't smoke. My theory about that was that you just realized how much of a headache life really was. I mean it had its good points, but whoever declared taking a break from it as a crime should be taken to an open field and shot. Multiple times. I mean if those uptight pricks who declared it illegal even tried the stuff before suggesting it, they never would of mentioned it again. Think of it this way, they subscribe the stuff to glaucoma patients because they are in pain, real pain. Just because they are going to die any ways they get the right to the goods. I don't get it. I personally blame the tobacco companies for holding it back, because honestly, if weed was on the open market, who the fuck will smoke cigarettes? People tell me that it increases the high, or some shit like that, but I could do just fine with just me and my Mary Jane. Which is why I never had the urge to try any other drugs. Well that was before weed didn't stop the pain anymore. Not a physical pain, but the insufferable emotional pain that I was about to endure. But I'll get to that later. I didn't even remember how I got home, it was just a blur. I was awake, but I kept my eyes closed the entire time, which is how I usually deal with things. Go through it with your eyes closed, only see what you want to see. Kind of like a meditation to block out the pain. I heard Trent go through my purse, hear the familiar jingle of my key ring, the front door open, him carrying me quietly upstairs. I refused to open my eyes to acknowledge his effort, but none the less he laid me down softly on my bed and kissed my forehead. It was a tender, and forgiving moment (considering all the shit I just put him through) but it didn't mean that I was about to forget. 1 comment|post comment

Chapter Eight [03 Sep 2003|06:07am] [ mood | apathetic ] Chapter 8 I woke up in the car with Trent. He was smiling at me, I hated his smile now. "You tired yourself out again." "Are we there yet?" I didn't want to be in the car much longer, especially with him. It was raining. It almost never rains anymore. I like the idea of rain. It's like the earth itself is crying, weeping for me. It feels so refreshing. I always found amusement in the little girls who were afraid of it, since I had the most wonderful memories in the rain. I even fell in love with the rain. Not with a boy though, with myself. I rarely love myself now-in-days. "We have a while. You shouldn't tire yourself out you know..." "I'm mad at you, so stop talking." He look surprised, it's amazing how stupid boys are. How they expect to use a girl, and for her not to care. Expect her to understand she's just a toy. "Why are you mad at me? That time of the month?" How fucking insensitive can you get? I am already crying and the fucking prick automatically assumes that I am on my rag. You know, we do feel when we aren't ovulating... "No Trent. I am sick of this. Sick of us." He looked away from me to the road. "What?" "You know what. You just don't care." "Care about what?" "Me Trent, me. You never did. You told me all that I wanted to hear. I think I am some sort of reassurance that no matter what you do, you got stupid little Lola to tell you that your not a fuck up." "It's not like that between us and you know that." "So its just for sex?" My voice was already cracking. Next step was to choke on my tears. Ironic to literally drown in sadness. If I ever committed suicide I would drown myself, or at least try too. Its like being weightless when your swimming, no one is holding you down. Thats how I fell death should be. Freedom. "No-" He was starting to make up a lie. I could feel it. "Stop it. Stop it before you start. I am no longer going to let you manipulate me again. I gave you everything I could, everything. It still wasn't enough. I wish I could of done something, make things better. But I gave and gave and gave, and you took and took and took. It never was enough for you. My heart, my soul, and my god damn devotion wasn't enough for you was it? What else do you want from me Trent? I gave you all I had to give, and I received nothing in return! No love, you didn't even care enough to tell me the truth. I obviously mean shit to you. No one deserves the pain I am feeling right now Trent, no one. No matter how much I want you to feel half the pain I am going through, you still don't deserve that." My eyes were burning from tears. It is no coincidence that blood and tears taste the same after a certain period of time. Tears are a form of your soul bleeding. If you cry enough, you feel like your going to die anyways, you feel helpless, lost. Because your soul is dieing. The car came to a stop, and he turned to me almost violently. "What do you want from me?! I told you I loved you!" My hand sprinted to the belt buckle, "But you never meant it! You just fucking said it yourself! You will never love me Trent! I hate you for that! But no matter how much I want to hate you, I love you, so I guess I just hate myself!" I don't think I was making sense, but I didn't care. Who cares about grammar when your dieing? The door flung open and my legs burst with energy as soon as they hit the wet asphalt. "Lola!" Your running through a forrest "Lola!!!" Your running through a forrest, a little stoner game. When someone is high, you pass your hands as fast as you can manage beside their face. Then you abruptly hit them in the forehead and explain it was a tree. If i survive this, I am going to run through this forest high. My legs burned, being a lazy little rich girl had the drawback of lack of exercise, unless mommy and daddy wanted you to model and paid hundreds a week for some Swedish guy named "Sphen" to explain why your gluteus could use a little perking. I could hear him behind me. But I wasn't running on energy, this was just my moment of delusion where everything hit me, but instead of crying or cutting, I was running. Punishing my whole body. My throat sore from panicked breaths, my lungs burning with tar, my arms bleeding from stray branches, and my legs. Oh god my legs. I have never been a good runner, I would be short of breath whenever I ran just a lap around the track. But my legs would endure, but right now they felt as if they were about to break. I imagined the sinew within the bone snapping like a rubber band under stress, imagined the bone collapsing in on itself, shards of bone slicing arteries like throwing knives. Imagined my skin ripped to shreds by razor sharp remains of bone. Imagined myself still fighting to run. He was getting closer. Run, run as fast as you can. But I knew that there was no way I could outrun that lanky bastard. Unlike me, Trent was very active, and it showed while he maneuvered around the large branches in the way, while I just ran thru them. By this time, the only reason blood wasn't pouring down to my fingertips was the mass amount of sap covering my wounds. What if my arms fell off? Would you fuck me then? He was shouting something threatening, or so it seamed, and I heard him. But I didn't listen. How does it feel? Like being a schizophrenic? Talking to only yourself? Welcome to my world Trent. Where no one listens to me but me. My arm seared in pain when he grabbed it, but his obvious disgust from the sap gave me the advantage. He backed up looking at his hand, "what the hell is this?" I took a chance, and I took a swing. My fist hitting the side of his head make a noise that, I imagine, would be the same as a butcher throwing a fresh carcass on the block. I first learned to throw a punch freshman year. A girl kept harassing me, threatening to beat me up. Once I confessed this to my dad when he found me crying in the bathroom. He took me to boxing classes the next day. "Look, I am teaching you how to defend yourself, not to be a bully. If she throws a punch at you, your knock her down and keep her there. I will take responsibility for any punishment the school or the cops try to enforce on you, as long as you don't throw the first punch. This is only just in case." Lessons paid off. "Mother-" I had no time to react, to run, I was just shocked that I actually did it. But before I knew it, his arms were around me, smothering me. "Hold still, fuckin-" he let out a piercing howl, like an injured wolf. I followed my instincts and bit him, which was just a distraction for my backwards kicking foot. He crumpled to the ground and looked up at me feverishly. I have never seen such anger growing in his eyes. "Fine," he spat at me, "do whatever the fuck you want. See if I give a shit." For a moment I looked at him, and saw his anguish. But it was only a moment. My legs broke free once again, and I continued to run. 1 comment|post comment

Chapter Se7en [03 Sep 2003|06:05am] [ mood | amused ] Chapter 7 The group reunited in Kat's basement. It still had the sweet odor of cannabis, I loved that smell more than anything... Russell smiled at me ad Trent glared at me, I decided to smile back at both of them. The guys took the couch while Spike and Sam arm wrestled for the LAY-Z boy. My bet was on Spike, he wasn't going to lose in front of Trent. It was weird, all the guys had some eerie respect for Trent, they just could not look any less of a man in front of him. It was like that with all guys in our school, they always moved when he walked down a hallway. His family wasn't the richest, nor the most powerful; so it wasn't that. He never threatened anyone, nor ever got in any kind of fight; scratch that. No one really knows why. Maybe he didn't blend so well into crowds, that wasn't the right phrasing. I don't know what it was about him, I don't think anyone did. thwack "I win, loser. Step aside!" Sam stood up triumphantly over Spike who looked very, very, pissed. "Fuck you, cheating bitch!" This set Sam off. I think the only fair fight with Sam would be against Spike, they were both tough mother fuckers, but this wasn't a fight any of us wanted to witness. "Cheating? Yeah, that sounds just like a spineless cunt! Why don't you just fucking admit that I fucking beat you!" "Yeah, you beat me the only way you could, BY BEING A CHEATING WHORE!" whack It was a blur, Sam was screaming cunt at the top of her lungs while kicking Spike in the stomach, and he shouted ever curse in the book. The guys were on Sam instantly, while Kat and Violet tried to grab the thrashing Spike out from under her. Sam elbowed one of then in the stomach while she crushed the instep of another. Thats my Sam... "FUCK YOU WHORE! FUCKING TWAT!" Spike was covering his face, his temper past it's boiling point. Spike never hit a girl in his life, and he sure was trying hard as hell to now. "FUCKING COCK SUCKER! FAG! GAY BUTT FUCKING FAGGOT!" Bad move Sam... The guy's let go of Sam, which sent her flying towards Spike in a blur. The guys hated being called homosexuals in any, way, shape or form. She knew it, but she really hated to be called a whore. Her mother was a prostitute, she never knew this until she figured out that she was adopted. Of course none of the guys knew this. She found out about her mom when she showed up at her house, and tried blackmailing her adopted parents for money. She didn't even acknowledged Sam, just talked about her like a piece of property. I should stop this... I got up wearily from my bean bag and picked up Sam off Spike by the hair . I didn't see Tracy, even though she was right behind me. I turned my back on Spike for a moment to throw Sam on a vacant couch. Her face was in such pain, her features distorted. I was about to hold her in my arms, I couldn't bear to see her like this. But then it all went black. I have never been knocked out completely before. Yeah you have No I haven't! I wasn't knocked out! I still remember! You went black honey, just like this. You passed out and woke up with him on top of- Stop it! That was a dream! I wish as much as you do that it was a dream. But it wasn't. It was real. Like this, this is real. No... Yes! So accept it! You don't have to be strong all the time! Yes I do! No one is that strong, not even you... Even angels cry... No they don't, and neither do I! For once, don't try lieing your way out of this one. I know you better than Trent, better than Kat, or any of those "friends." Face it honey, I know you better than you You don't know anything about me! Haha! Look at yourself. Do you even know who your talking to? Wait... Who ARE you? "Lola?" That kind of sounds like Derek... Time to go back to the real world. No! Who are you?! "Lola, please talk to me!" Kat? "Oh Lola, thank god!" I felt pressure all around me. Everything started to come in focus. It was like wake up again, from a coma. Was I in a coma? Everyone's faces started to become visible through the blurs, details of concerned eyes, looking at me. Am I dead? No, not yet. I was in Violets strong embrace, my makeup smeared from sweat on her wife-beater. I was in between her tits. Great... Searing pain. My hand fled to feel the back of my head, it felt soft and sticky. I slowly brought back my hand to my closed eyes, then I opened them. blood... my blood... "What the fuck happened?" I grimaced from another shock of pain, this time it surged through my spine. My mind raced to ridiculous conclusions. I am paralyzed! Then how the hell did I just touch my head? Why can I feel all the pain searing through my body? Oh... Right... "After you pulled Sam off Spike, he threw the lamp at your back, don't you remember?" Tracy looked confused as hell. "If I fucking remembered, do you honestly think I would fucking ask?" This pain was unbearable. Smoke it off? Maybe later... "Well you did take the lamp and started to beat him with it." So thats why there is blood under my nails... "And then what?" Tracy look scared, "Well..." "Spit it out!" My patience was at it's end. I was experiencing the most extreme shots of pain, bleeding, and realizing I just beat the shit out my friend, who had poor aim, with a lamp. Violet put her hand on Tracy's back in reassurance, "It's okay Tracy, we all would of done the same." "Done what?!" My head. What the fuck did she do to my head?! I could feel my eyes widening with panic. "I... I tackled you to the ground, and after you bit me-" "I bit you?!" "Yeah, after that I grabbed your hair and knocked you unconscious on the concrete." She was already crying, and she hid her face in shame. I got my ass kicked by princess? She looked like a mouse waiting to be eaten by a lioness. The sad thing was, no matter how much I wanted to use my remaining strength to pull out ever blond strand out by the roots, I was proud of her. "I am sorry I bit you Tracy. Someone wanna get me some fucking anti-septic for this thing?" No one moved. They all stared at me, open mouthed. "What? Get me something before I die from Tetnis or something!" Sam shook her head and grinned and got up. "How you doing Sammy? Did he get you?" "Not like you got him." I looked around, "Where is that fucker?" Russell ran his fingers through his hair and looked down, "He's in a coma, Trent and Mike took him to the hospital. They said he got jumped, so don't worry about that." I sat there in shock. Spike and Mike's dad is the chief surgeon at the hospital. "The only reason we didn't take you too is because it would be too suspicious, so we are just waiting for Trent to get back so we can take you to the Emergency clinic across town." I was about to open my mouth to complain about Trent taking me, but I was in no condition to drive, and I didn't want my friends driving recklessly with my car. "Kat?" "Sorry babe, my mom took my car to go out with some friends." She shrugged hopelessly. "We would of just stolen your car if it wasn't for-" Derek caught my searing glare, "well that, and you didn't bleed too bad." I spun my head to floor, and then I saw it. My blood. It's beautiful... It was a small spot, but I knew it was mine because of the hair stuck in the mess. "You want me to clean that up for you?" Kat shook her head. "Nah, I just hope Tracy doesn't have to put you back in line again." We all smiled uncomfortably. "I wonder why you don't remember." Russell looked at me suspiciously "So do I!" I snapped at him. I didn't need this shit. My head was throbbing, my blood is on the ground, and I gotta spend a car trip with Trent. He had a old corvette, it was a two seater, but you could squeeze another person in the middle behind the shifter. Which reminded me. "Who is going with me when Trent gets here?" Russell looked at me determined. "You are going by yourself." "Your kidding." "No Lola, this little war between you two has to stop. Now." "Fuck you! I'll wage war as long as I fucking want to!" I would say I was pissed off, but that didn't even begin to describe it. "I am fucking Napoleon and I'll wage war on europe as long as fucking want to! Your my fucking army! This is fucking MUTINY! MUTINY!" I was going nuts, and my friends just stood there staring at me. Ignore me will you? I took the coffee table and threw it, shattering itself and the bong that was on it. "MUTINY!" I screamed it over and over while Russell and Trent tried to restrain me from beating the shit out of anyone. mutiny... "Fucking let go of me! I rather bleed than be with that bastard! Fuck you all!" My legs were flaring in the air by this point. They betrayed me. "Calm the fuck down Lola!" Kat looked scared. Good. "MUTINY!" The once again it all went black. post comment

Chapter Six [03 Sep 2003|05:57am] [ mood | accomplished ] Chapter 6 The week went by as usual. Bitter teachers, giving out homework in angst to the students. I had fucking 5 essays to do by friday. Our groups meet at the cafeteria daily, since few of us had classes with one another. I was lucky enought to have at least one friend in each class. I joked once about it that it was a conspiracy to keep my from stabbing my eyes out from boredom. I tried explaining this to my friends but they just didn't understand. "Its a plot to keep me alive so my parents check's can put a down payment on their ferrari." "And they didn't do the same for us because..." Kat looked at me with confusion. "Because I am the only one here with enough balls to do it, well me and Derek, right Derek?" Derek was siting next to me instead of Trent, I was still bitter over Tracy, and he was too prideful to apologize. Derek struggled to remove the skin from his chicken "Yah, I totally get what you mean, but they just assume I'm suicidal cause of the hawk," He pointed at his french braid with his fork. Spike poked at the chicken with his knife, "That doesn't look cooked." We all took a glance at the plump red chicken. "I am getting used to raw meat." He took a bite off it, tossing his fork aside. "I thought chicken was white meat, not pink." Russell looked confused, and disgusted. "Thats gross Derek, stop eating it!" Tracy looked like she was going to puke. This encouraged Derek to bare his teeth and make grunting noises, tearing the chicken to shreds. "Pretty soon they'll stop cooking the food all-together." Violet sighed trying to chew the half cooked rice. "This is disgusting." "Good, I like 'em bloody!" He growled, red chicken dangling from his teeth, at Tracy and she jerked back. Once Derek realized my true dislike for her he became more aggressive towards her. She confessed to me once that he gave her nightmares. I guess you could say, I am getting closer with Derek. "Stop it Derek, I'm getting sick of seeing you from your food's point of view." Trent was sitting next to Tracy. It was the only seat left, but it pissed me off none the less. How fucking dare he sit next to her. "Well I am sick of seeing you all-together, but I'm not fucking complaining. Well, until now." I scowled at Trent. die bitch die! I picked up my tray and scooted the cheap metal chair back. "I'm sick of this shit. Anyone want to ditch the rest of the day and get some real food?" Derek rose, which provoked a mumble from Trent. "Surprise, surprise." But before I could throw the remains of my dry mash potatoes at him, Violet, Kat, and Sam stood up with Spike and Mike. "Yah, fuck this shit. You coming Russell?" Russell looked at Spike as if he just asked him to fly to never-land with pixie dust he bought off a magical banana. "Your nuts. Your all nuts!" He stood up his green eyes narrowed. "I am not gunna go on some joy ride, you all should get some priorities." I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his neck and mumbled perfectly audible whispers "Come on my lil irish boy! Have a little fun. You need some substantial food for your big brain!" I knew this bugged Trent, on account that Russell enjoyed the seldom attention he got (none of the girls bothered "wasting their time with a virgin"), even if it was from his best friend's lover. "I can't... I... I got a test in physics." I looked at him and gave him a pouty lip. "I'm sorry! I'll take notes for you in english!" I smiled, knowing he wouldn't change his mind. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek, my eyes never leaving Trent. His eyes were narrowed at me, drilling holes in me. I didn't care. "Thank you Russ. You coming princess?" They all looked at Tracy, it was the moment of truth. If she choose me, there would be hope for her yet, and if she stayed with Trent, I would never forgive her and she would be stuck in Trent's cycle, taking my place. "Yeah, Lemmie grab my bag." I smiled and looked at Trent. She's mine now Trent, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. We walked to the parking lot and I barked out orders. "Ok I'll drive with Derek and Sp- Mike, you too princess." The smart decision was to put Mike and Tracy in the same car. If I drove up front with Derek, Mike could have the chance too swoon Tracy. I was using my most credible talent, manipulating people. I could get anyone to bend to my will by just putting them with the right people. If I wanted Tracy to break under pressure and leave, I'd stick her with Sam, if I wanted her to realize we cared for her, I'd stick her with Violet, and if I wanted her to be an obedient mime like follower, I'd stick her with Kat. But now I just wanted to keep her away from Trent. MY Trent. It wasn't just me who manipulated in this little circle though. Everyone knew that our little society revolved around the concept of Trent and I having sex. If Trent and I didn't have sex, we didn't get along. If we didn't get along, no one got along. So I manipulated my girls, who manipulated the boys, who in turn manipulated Trent, who eventually Manipulated me. It was a cycle that benefited everyone. So in order to keep the peace, it meant to keep Tracy away from Trent. Right now though, I felt it necessary to piss off Trent further. I knew if word got out, it would all be over. He didn't care, why should I? I leaned towards Derek licking my lips. "You have a nice car, is it fast?" I was referring to his 1973 Cobra, it was like my Torino, except mine was a '71. They both were black, and like Violets, decked out in chrome, and leather interrior. The only diference was a custom Alice in Wonderland "Hell yah, its fast." "Faster than my," My hand slipped from his leg, dangerously close to his dick. "Torino?" He pressed on the acceleration. "Yes..." His eyes looking in the rear view mirror to see if Mike was looking, but he was too busy playing with Tracy's hair. "I dunno," My fingers walked to his bulging zipper, "my Torino is pretty fast." He pressed the accelerator and his car lurched forward, Mike and Tracy's heads hit against the ceiling. "Jesus, dude fucking relax, you don't have to race Vi! You know your car is faster, so calm down!" He leaned back and put his arm around Tracy again, and whispered in her ear something inaudible, to which she giggled ridiculously to. Derek kept his eyes to the road as my hand returned to his knee. "Maybe my Torino is too fast for you." We walked into the restaurant that we knew well, except for Tracy obviously. All the servers smiled and greeted us. The hostess greeted us with a cheery "Hey guys!" and navigated us to a green booth. The Green Palm Cafe was the cleanest place you can imagine, contrary to what it used to be, before Ted quit drinking. We called the place the green asshole because it smelt like one, or so we could imagine. In fact, back in the day the only things that weren't covered in dirt, were the mugs, and occasionally a plate or two, if you were lucky. There even was a dog that laid by the bar, he looked like he'd been dead for at least a week last time we saw him, which would explain the smell. Ted had open wounds with bloody bandages on his hands most of the time, most likely from bar fights. It's the type of thing that would give the surgeon general a heart attack. Now it seemed like a different place entirely, except for the neon sign up front. All the waiters seemed like they were on speed, which isn't too far fetched considering that the head waiter was a dealer. Its amazing how many people do drugs. Last time I checked, it was a third of the population who either tried weed at least once, or was doing it now. That's more than people who smoke cigarettes regularly, or at least I think so. I find it funny too because from my own experience, it was the majority jocks who smoked, but they did it to the point where they had to wake up and smoke. I myself have never did a "wake and bake," I think it's stupid. Most the time I was still high from the night before... "What can I get for you kids today?" I raised an eyebrow. Kids? I'll give you fucking "kids". My hand was lifting a finger until out perky waitress handed me a menu. "Waters all around, and we'll get back to yah." I gave her the wink and the gun instead as I impersonated her pep-squad voice. "Okay!" Her blonde pigtails bounced off with her. I pretended to gag in my napkin, only Derek and Tracy noticed, Tracy gave me a look I didn't like. "What's the matter princess? Is she a friend of yours?" I tried not to smile, I wanted her opinion for once, without my ridicule. "No, she's just trying to be nice and you're being an ass." "Don't worry, I'm sure her lil happy speed pills give her the ability to shrug me off." "How do you know she is on speed?" "You get to know these things when you get wiser." "And more of a druggie." I didn't realize Sam was listening until she spoke up, the whole group was listening. "Why don't you do anything, drug wise?" Violet poked Tracy gently. Violet had the talent of getting any information from anyone. She's the only one I ever told about the voices, I guess her grey eyes scream "Trust me." "What makes you think that?" "The way you sneer every time we mention a drug. We don't like that if you haven't noticed." Violet ignored me and continued to prod, "It's just that we know that you were introduced to everyone by Russell, and he's straight edge, so we just assumed your straight edge too..." Her voice trailed off, she tilted her head innocently, slightly looking at me with a look that said Marilyn Monroe, eat your heart out. "I am not straight edge." Derek looked suspicious, "You mean you drink?" "No." Spike started to pipe up, "So you DO smoke!" "No." Mike looked confused. "Well what DO you do?" "I-" She was starting to look scared so I jabbed Violet to work her magic. "Sweetheart it's OK, we of all people won't judge you." She batted her eye lashes and placed a well manacured hand on Tracy's. And the Oscar goes too... "I," She looked confused, but so eager to fit in. "I do hallucinogens." We all stopped dead in motion, all eyes were on Tracy. I was the first to recover, "Like Shrooms?" "Harder than that." I made a gesture for her to continue, and she breathed in deeply. "I do LSD, Ecstasy, and heroin on occasion." Hello, God? Yeah, I am just calling to inform you Hell just froze over, I thought you might want to know. "You're shitting me?" She gave a glare that could kill. "I am not who you think I am. I can fucking do anything you can, and more." "Is that a challenge?" This just in! Pigs are flying! They sprouted wings and are competing with the Blue Angels! "Try me." She leaned forward and got in my face, and for the first time in my life I smiled at her. "There is hope for you yet princess, there's hope for you yet." 3 comments|post comment

Chapter Five [03 Sep 2003|05:56am] [ mood | tired ] Chapter 5 I was half asleep in the booth, in fact the only thing keeping me awake was Sam's laughter. My thoughts were rampant, Tracy was sulking in the corner, poking her eggs with her fork, unaware that uncooked is the best you'll get at Denny's. She noticed me not joining in the conversation, so it made perfect sense to throw an ice-cube at me. "Fucker." "What's wrong sleeping beauty? You were out before all of us." "Well someone kept having to wake me up to tell me I smelt like weed!" The thought brought a smile to my face. It's like that when you go to bed blazed. You reminisce the next morning, you think about all the stupid shit you did, and everything you said before that you thought was genius. Of course it was the dumbest thing now. But it all came back in short flashes of memory, triggered by irrelevant situations. Sam nearly choked on her bacon. "Oh my god, I forgot about that!" Flash. "Lola, Lola!" A finger was jabbing at my side. No mommy, five more minutes! "Lola! I have something important to tell you!" "Uhh... I was kind of having sex with Johnny Depp, this better be fucking good." "Dude, you smell like weed!" I looked at her, tying to comprehend that the fact that she said something soo stupid, it even was dumb when I was high. "Your an idiot." She shook her head so violently, I couldn't help but follow her with my own. "No no no no no! You just aren't getting it!" "What am I not getting? We all smell like pot. The whole room is filled up to the ceiling with pot. Its no mystery Sam, so go to bed before your head explodes." "But not you, your pores are seeping with it!" She started making wild hand gestures which made it difficult for me to pay attention. "Your skin is just soaked with it! It's like your soil, and your growing flowers! Your a garden Lola!" My mouth was agape. The scary thing was, I understood her. "Go to sleep." Flash. Violet cracked up, she nearly spit out her soda. "Yah you were pretty fucked up! How many bowls did you smoke?" Sam smirked and proudly held up 4 fingers. Now it was my turn to spit out my soda. "Four?! Shit! To yourself?" Now to explain to those who aren't pot-heads. A Bowl is about the amount someone would put in any pipe, so roughly the size of a normal size marble. A domer is about the size of a shooter marble. Now if you smoke one bowl, it is about the equivalent of taking 3 shots of tequila, depending on your tolerance for alcohol or weed. "Yeah! 2 in the pipe, 2 in the bong!" Now a bong is great because it traps all the smoke inside, and you don't waste any of it. Another good thing is that it is much easier to breath in and out with a bong, because if you accidentally blow out in the piece, the weed doesn't fly out, so bigger hits with multiple breaths. "Fuck. Your a bigger pothead than I am!" Violet laughed, and the table joined in, with the exception of Tracy, who was too interested in her sausage links. "What's the matter princess? Food not up to standards?" I smirked with full knowledge of my hypocrisy. We all were from rich families, and used to silly luxuries. We went to the same catholic private school, we wore the same outfits, well except for me. I hated the cliché schoolgirl uniform, so I wore the boy's uniform: black dress pants, black button up shirt, and white tie. I would of started a trend if it wasn't for the clear threats to the followers. No one in our school dared to fuck with us, so I got my wish and remained unique. "Stop that." A sneer graced her perfect face. She was even beautiful angry. "Stop what princess?" "Stop fucking calling me princess!" We all looked at her shocked, so with our full attention she continued. "I am not here to be the butt of your every joke, I haven't done ANYTHING wrong! I demand respect! I deserve it!" My left brow arched in amusement. "You deserve it huh? News flash princess, contrary to what your used to, you don't deserve anything, you fucking earn it." Kat chimed in, "Yeah, you have to work for everything you get, so far you haven't earned anything." I laughed at that "Earn it, like how you earned your precious little Spider?" She looked at me shocked. I have been known to slightly remind everyone of their place here, but Kat was least often my victim. "I saw them fuck, Lola. I saw his-" she started to make hand gestures to her crotch. I spat out my hash browns; Violet gasped; Sam sat there, mouth agape, with food slowly making its way back to the plate; and even Tracy looked shocked. I went too far. But I know as well as anyone that I was the only person who Kat would let get away with that shit, and stay in one piece for that matter. I knew I should make amends. "Your right, but you deserve much more than a Spider." "You deserve a fucking porche for that shit." We all nodded in agreement with Sam. I pretended to look at my watch, "Were late... Again..." "Lets blow this popsicle stand." Violet grabbed her backpack and her keys. We were taking her ride today, a nice old white mustang. It was completely cherried out. New everything, chrome wheels and engine. She called it her little pinto, it was even airbrushed painted on the back, by an ex boyfriend of hers. Tracy started to leave a tip, and I smacked her hand. "No no no! We never leave more than 1 buck." "Thats fucked up." "Look, she gets paid to do this, why should I giver her more than a buck? She brought you a plate of food an 2 side dishes, and one drink. If i could even save the buck, I would serve my fucking self! So shut up already and get out the door before anyone overhears us!" The real reason I was in a hurry was because we only paid for half the shit we ordered. It happened so often its tradition. The people who worked there must not care or not bother to bust us. We did it every morning that we ate there, and they had to know us by heart. Most likely the food was tainted with bodily fluids. We didn't care though, as long as we didn't know about it. We arrived at school, late once again. I think our teachers expected it by now. Every now and then we would get chastised about the importance of attendance, but that stopped when you kindly reminded them who's parents are paying for their paychecks. If they were lucky, and caught you on a bad day, they would get a full blown rant. Mr. Riggs was very lucky today. "You know Ms. Lola, tardiness is an insult among teachers." "Really? Well I am lucky I showed up at all then." "I cannot tolerate your insolence Ms. Lola. Minus five points." I walked up to his desk and dropped my books to the floor. For some reason I felt that I enjoyed irritating him. I enjoyed him being insulted, in fact I wanted to do it some more. Mr. Riggs would be an attractive man, if he wasn't such an asshole. He had chestnut eyes, and trimmed brown hair, and a clean shaven face. He was slim because he used to be an olympic swimmer, that is until he tore a ligament or something. "I believe you shouldn't do that." "Oh really! Well why don't you enlighten me of my foul mistake Ms. Lola!" "Gladly. You see, your little miserable life as teacher may end. As much as a favor it may be to you, even though you do not realize this, I simply cannot let my parents convince the school to fire you for malpractice. On account my grade has nothing to do with my grades. It is true that those 5 points make no difference to my high grade, but this poor reflection of your character, because no one else has been marked off as of yet because of tardiness. Also, you couldn't possibly make the argument that my lateness affects me academically, because of the fact I hold the highest grade in the class. But if you do get fired, I am afraid the class may have to deal with a completely different asshole for a teacher, when we are perfectly accustomed to you as our asshole for a teacher." He looked dumbfounded but recovered quickly. "You say that one more time and I'll send you to-" "The nuns? Ha. Don't give me empty threats Riggs." I knew as well as he did that sending a student to the nuns only caused the teacher to be chastised for not being able to control their students. "Take your seat, or I will." I won, Mr. Riggs may not of known it, but the students sure as hell did. I turned around to be greeted by a room full of beaming faces of pride. I winked and took my seat in the back next to Trent and Derek. Before I sat down, Derek squeezed my ass without Trent seeing, and before I gave him a dirty look I caught Mr. Riggs staring at the act. I was completely ready for him to write both Derek and I up, but he just remained teaching. Trent leaned towards me to whisper something in my ear, "Hey, that really was something." "Thanks." I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. "And thanks for letting off Tracy." He leaned closer to kiss my neck, but I leaned out of his reach. "What the fuck is with you and Tracy?" Suspicions arose and I could feel my heart tearing itself apart. The muscles starting to rip from strain. "What do you mean?" The sinews snapping. "You know what the fuck I mean!" The veins pulsing, like a water balloon before impact. "No I don't, can you explain it to me?!" Blood pouring out of every crevice. "You fucking caring about her, like she was your fucking girlfreind." Dripping with blood. "Maybe she is." Bursting. "That better be a fucking joke." I was on the verge of tears, but I wasn't sad. I was angry, angrier than I have been in a long time. "It is relax." "That isn't fucking funny asshole." The bell rang, I was later than I thought. We got up together and Trent tried to grab my arm, but I smacked him in the face in retaliation. "Don't you dare fucking touch me! Come on Derek, lets go to Bio." Derek shrugged and put his arm around my shoulders, and kissed my forehead. It was weird, as much as he liked me, he knew when to back off when I was hurt. The rest of the day, he stayed close to me and tried to keep my mind off things. He strayed away from the sexual innuendo, and concentrated on telling me about the band he was trying to start. I appreciated him a lot more, and I made fun of him. His hawk was braided in a ponytail. In school he was made fun of, when he was alone at least. The bastards knew he would get kicked out if he got in one more fight, so they took advantage of him. During the weekends though, they all were his. He finally persuaded the girl who worked at the attendance office today to give him their addresses. It was something to look forward too. post comment

Chapter Four [03 Sep 2003|05:53am] [ mood | pleased ] Chapter 4 You know you smoked too much when you wake up the next morning and still feel high. It's the best feeling in the world. That after buzz, a lot of people hate it, call it a weed hangover. But it just confirms that weed is the gift that keeps on giving. I stumbled around Kat's basement and lightly kicked everyone, Sam a little harder than the rest. I was still bitter over the fact that the bitch singed my nose hairs. Then again, I was too high to work the lighter myself, so I didn't have a choice. I was almost finished doing my rounds (ignoring everyone swearing at me for waking them up) when I came upon something I completely forgot about. Tracy was there, sleeping like an angel. Now keep in mind this bitch has barely uttered a sentence to me, but I felt threatened by her. I was a lioness who's territory has been invaded by hyaenas, I was damn threatened. She wants to be part of the group? Well, princess has to be just like everyone else. Kick, "Get up Tracy, we got shit to do." Moan, "I'll be up when I'm awake, do it without me." Something terrible that was swelling inside of me burst out, and no one saw it coming. I swung my leg back, and drove my combat boot in her precious skinny, perfect stomach. She screamed for a moment, until i kicked her again and knocked the sound out of her. I grabbed her bleach blonde hair and lifted her up to eye level. She was terrified. I was causing that terror. And I was loving every moment of it. "Look princess, YOU wanted to join this fucking group, so listen up. I could give a flying fuck why you decided to, but you are now with us. Now you can either shut the FUCK up, get up, and get dressed; Or, you can walk your twiggy ass out that fucking door and NEVER step into MY territory again!" She whimpered in my grasp, she was no longer a hyaena to this lioness, she was a mouse. I am bitch, hear my roar. And in our most glorious moment, Sam decided to throw her converse at me. "Drop her Lola." "Fuck you! You think this little bitch is better than us?!" I was swelling with anger. "Just shut up. I don't want you ruining the last of my buzz alright? Just drop her, I think she gets your fucking point." Sam gave me a malice stare, but I ignored her. "Understand me princess? No one is above the rules here. So, what's it gonna be?" Wiping her tears she said "I'll get dressed..." I felt a grin crawl on my face, and my grip released off her hair. "Good. You all have five minutes." I stood outside and everyone was out in four. I was very pleased. "Now where do you guys- wait... Where the hell is Tracy?" Some hope rose inside of me that she ran away. Good fucking riddance. But as soon as I finished that thought the screen door or Kat's kitchen burst open with Trent. They must of spent the night, because Trent was wearing partially undone jeans and a wife-beater. He was so angry, he was so damn sexy. "Can I fucking talk to you?" I smirked, I knew where Tracy went. "I am kind of busy, but you are free to try again later." "Now!" "Fuck you, I want some food." "Fine I'll yell at you here!" I looked up at him with my doe eyes and breathed a sigh of retreat. I walked back down in the basement, and he followed. I inhaled the strong scent of cannabis that reeked from every pore in the damn basement. It was a wonder how dumb Kat's parents were. Her mother, I guess, was too bust downing diet pills pumped with speed to notice her basement's small windows fogged, too busy on the phone going to health food stores to notice the assorted bongs, pipes, and other pieces scattered around Kat's room. Her dad was too busy doing "late night shifts" at the office banging his 23 year old secretary. Kat told me she caught them once, on the fax machine. She told me she nearly threw up, but she managed to exclude the fact that she got a brand new toyota Spider. "What the fuck is with you?!" Trent's blue eyes shined when he was pissed. "What ever do you mean schnookums? You told me to treat her like one of our own." "Don't give me that bullshit, you fucking told her-" "WHAT I fucking told her is irrelevant. Now if she can't even put up with a little roughhousing from one of the girls, how the fuck will she do HALF the shit we do? I don't have time to deal with spineless cunts!" "Look, I understand," he stepped closer, no... "you were just a little too rough.." his arms reached for me, stop... "please babe..." his arms were now around me, not again... "Do this for me?" "I just..." "Please try, for me." He already knew my answer, but he asked anyways, "Will you?" fuck you Trent, fuck you... "Fine..." We walked out and his arm left me as soon as the sun shone on us. Fuck you Trent... I nodded at Tracy, indifferent. "Alright ladies, lets get some fucking food." post comment

Chapter Three [03 Sep 2003|05:49am] [ mood | annoyed ] Chapter 3 Tracy was blonde, skinny, pale, and sweet as pie. I hate Tracy with every bone in my body, every cell in my blood, every thought in my brain. Well, you get the point. If you met her you would hate her too. No one deserves to be that perfect, to be that loved by anything with a penis. If it were up to me Tracy would of been floating face down the day I met her. Well it was up to me. I didn't kill her. She joined our clan. Russell liked her, allot, and convinced Trent to convince me to let her join us. I can't turn Trent down, no matter how much I was against this. But I wanted any excuse to show my love for him, because of how rarely he showed it to me. If I had the choice to blame my damnation on anyone it would be Tracy. Tracy, that little itch on the one spot in your back that you can't reach. A large part of me wanted to tackle that bitch Tracy to the ground. It wanted to grab her perfect hair by the roots. It wanted me to slam her perfect nose in the linoleum. It wanted me to destroy her. I wanted me to destroy her. And I felt all this before she spoke a word. I knew, deep down inside me that she would be the end of me. I take it back, I blame Trent, blame him for using me. It was always like that between us. I liked to believe it was some unspoken bond between us, some love that never had to be said. But that little happy dream ended when he told me he loved me for the first time. We were drunk as usual, and having what I remember as the best sex of our lives. As he drilled at me I ripped off his shirt and licked his chest, while he moaned my name pounding me harder, my back arched in orgasm, and I was ready for more. Then all of the sudden he stopped. I panicked and looked in his eyes. "What's wrong baby?" "I love you." I started crying and told him loved him for so long as he continued to fuck me hard, that is, until we fell off the bed, and we were too exhausted to get back up. He never said it again. I went from having the best feeling in the world to the worst. He might as well of taken it back. Slowly but surely, the truth was starting to sink in. As I stare into Tracy's empty eyes I am reminded of the truth, reminded how he still continues to use me. But I gave my word, so she stays. She smiles at me and offers me her hand. I turn away and I wish we never met. Tracy didn't like weed, alcohol, or cigarettes. For a long time we believed she was straight edge like Russell, I think he thought so too. Everyone in the group loathed her as much as I did, and were very pissed off that I gave into Trent's commands. "Chiks before dicks, Lola." Violet reminded me. "Shut the fuck up, okay? It wasn't up to me..." Only it was. It was entirely up to me, and for once I wish this was a communistic society instead of a cult. I grabbed the closest pipe, already packed and waiting. Everyone watched me as I took the ceremonial first rip. Since my mother always paid the most for our goods, my terms were I got the first greens and last resin hit. No one complained because my first rips were always small, to spare some greens to the rest of the crew. "Well lord knows the bitch ain't getting any of my shit. She has to pitch in to smo- pass me the pipe, twat!" Sam gave me the finger in anger over my selfishness. Unlike most of my first hits this one was long, and hard. I light up and sucked the fuck out of the greens, still aflame. Slowly breathing out of my nose, and quickly inhaling out of my mouth. I kept reminding myself. I want to get fucked up tonight. I want to forget about Trent, and especially that bitch Tracy. I inhaled through the tears running down my cheeks, let go of the carbonation hole and sucked up the rest of the cherry before Sam stole it from me and tried to light up, but got nothing from it. "Son of a bitch... I don't believe it!" "What?" Smoke was still flowing out of my lungs, like one of those Japanese mini gardens with the small bonsai tree and little carvings of an old fisherman. I could be a fisherman... "I can't believe it. You smoked the WHOLE fucking bowl!" "Wow..." More smoke... This time a ring like the caterpillar from Alice's Adventures in wonderland... I was always proud when I did smoke rings... It's hard to do... "I'm packing another motha-fuckin bowl, cause there is no way in hell I'm meeting this bitch sober." I just smiled and nodded, still staring at the smoke ring that had long since disappeared. I wonder where it goes... "Lets fishbowl this shit." Kat smiled greedily and brought out another pipe, tan and black from all the previous use it had gotten from us. She immediately packed it. "Dome-er!" I shouted as if it was the smartest thing I could possibly say. I lied back in the couch and smiled, pleased that my dealer came through with good ass shit. Sam laughed along with me: "Yeah, pack a domer, lets smoke till we drop." post comment

Chapter Two [03 Sep 2003|05:32am] [ mood | annoyed ] Chapter 2 I always used to believe self-destruction was the answer. I still kinda do. You can't help but be destroyed in this world, so why not do it yourself? My method? Pot, Mary Jane, Cannabis, Chronic, white widow, mech., sweet tooth, purple haze, skunk, bull rider. I am what you call a "social smoker." One who gets high in crowds, around friends, socially. But because of my good fortune of always being with my friends, I was always smoking. So I wore the proud title of stoner, or pot-head. My friends? Oh they were just as bad as me, if not worse. You see they also smoked cigaretts. I personally believe cigs are a big source of dependance. I have smoked them before, and they do nothing for me, I think they taste disgusting, they smell bad, and it stays around you like B.O. no shower can get rid of. I think the cigarette companies are geniuses though, I have to give it to them. Who knew such a disgusting habit would reap such profit? Every cigg smoker has their preferred brand, usually its the one they started out with, that they are hooked on until they die or buy those nifty little patches that just pump the nicotine to you, right through the skin. I think they make those addictive too. But even after all the cancers, all the cigarette craving prevention methods, all those D.A.R.E people out there, the health classes, people still smoke with full knowledge of the addiction. I don't get it. No one can prove weed is addicting, at least weed alone. Because of all the dirty weed I have smoked before, technically I have done every dirty drug in the book. It is disgusting how dealers try to use opium, cocaine, and even nicotine to get you addicted to their shit. You should be able to smoke because of the pure love of the drug, not because some coked up junkie needs more buyers. Like i said before, my friends are stoners, just like me. We smoke the hell of ourselves and our wonderful parents foot the bill. "Can I have $25 for some dinner mom?" now means "Can I have $25 for half an eighth?" That was our code word. Actually now that I think about it, any non-school related activity was code for "smoking a lot of pot." As long as I can remember we would lock ourselves in Kat's basement and not come out until we remembered how to unlock the door. Kat's my best friend, we have known each other since we tried to beat the shit out of each other in the 5th grade over a guy. The guy ended going out with the prettiest girl in school at the time, so we ended up jumping her. Ever since then we haven't backstabbed, betrayed, or fucked each other over. She is the most beautiful person I know. She has light brown hair and light hazel eyes, a slim body, great ass, and she is one bad-ass-mother-fucker. We were all "bad asses," or so we thought. Ignorance is bliss I guess. The most illusional of that fact is Violet. She honestly thought she could kick any of our groups ass, and any guy's ass too. She was named Violet because she used to have these purple eyes, but now they are grey. None the less they complement her dark skin, and her dreads. She had a muscular physic, but she never "went out into battle" without her trusty switchblade and iron knuckles. Some bad ass, doesn't even fight without weapons. Most likely because she still can't throw a decent punch. None the less, in a fight, it wouldn't hurt to have her on our side, even though I could easily take her. Unlike Sam, who scares the shit out of me. Samantha, otherwise known as Sam, is short, mexican, and shy. But she knows how to knock anyone down, and keep them there. She is a vicious little devil, and she doesn't take shit from anyone. She was the one who started the whole idea of the semi-cult thing we had going, one of the few good ideas she has ever had, most the time she just follows me and Kat. Now out little semi-cult was just this: no new members unless they prove themselves worth our time. Now don't get me wrong, we didn't feel like we were better than anyone else, nor do I deny that we were just as shallow as anyone could imagine. We were just a couple of rich girls, who hated ourselves, and everyone else who breathed. And sometimes, we hated the one's who didn't breathe too. So we were just a group of loathing, horney, pot heads. But we weren't sluts, oh no. We liked to "keep it all in the family." and our little family consisted of us, and another cult-like society. A society that we considered our brothers. Well... Brothers we enjoy fucking. Like what I like to consider myself, Trent was their leader. He was tall, scrawney, had brown hair, blue eyes, and cocky as hell. He never really stood out of a crowd, which is what I liked about him, his ability to be like everyone else, which was something I had a problem with. I always stuck out like a sore thumb, but he just glowed. It's hard not to notice him though, because he always held himself with confidence. He always managed to convince you that you were his one and only. Only I knew that I was his one and only. He was mine the moment I saw him. Opposites attract I suppose, and we ended up fucking, and just like that there we were. Our little consummation forged our two groups together, and it created an unbreakable bond. He was my first, and I was enamored with the fact that he was mine. I tamed him. We also trusted each other and our friends to fuck around with other people, like Derek. Derek's taller than Trent, has a gold and black mohawk and, like me, stands out of crowds. His eyebrow was pierced, along with his nipples, and he had a mural of heaven and hell (which I designed for him) tattooed on his back. He loved my drawings, and always doted on me, and was in constant attempt to have sex with me. I liked the attention, but I only had sex with Trent, and I thought I always would. But deep down I knew Trent wasn't nearly as devoted. Another guy in the group is Mike, he carries himself with less confidence, which made him appear shorter than he really is. Most the guys called Mike a pussy, and queer, but Mike knew what he was doing around the ladies. He was by far the best kisser of the fellah's, and he was the only one who referred to fucking as "making love." His blonde hair and blue eyes made him look like an angel (or an "aryan") and he pulled the part off well. He had a twin brother, who was hardly like him in any aspect. Spike (his real name is Stuart, but anyone who called him that ended up dealing with a broken nose.) is rude, vulgar, agressive, stupid, and he is always making fun of us girls. In fact, Sam was the only one he had in the sac, because he admired her strength when he saw her take on 3 full grown skinheads by herself because they called her a Spik. Sam claims she hates him, but since Spike took a two by four to the back of the biggest skin's head, she punched him less. The only resemblance he has to his brother Mike is his hair and eyes, other than that, they deny relation to each other. The last guy is the shyest. No one knows much about Russell, except that he's irish (which is obvious from his green eyes, red hair, and freckles) and he is Trent's best friend. He keeps to himself, and is the only sober person in our entire group. He usually humors us while we get fucked up, driving us around, and playing guitar for us. Everything was perfect. Everyone knew their place, no one tried to rise about the ranks and create mutiny against me nor Trent. That is, until she came along. Then everything went to hell. post comment

The Suicide Note and Chapter One [03 Sep 2003|05:27am] [ mood | amused ] Suicide Note Found on September 23rd, 2005 To all who ever read this: I always thought of death as just the end to the game of life. But I swear to god I will not die without being heard. I guess it's all I wanted in life, just to be heard. To be loved yes, but above all else to be heard. Because god knows I will not go down as some spoiled punk kid who couldn't handle her drugs. Some day of the week news, without even a paragraph in the obituaries. Tragic? Yes. Sad? Yes. Memorable? No. I will not be forgotten, I want the world to know why. I want them all to know what drove me to the edge. We all have our reasons. We all have this freedom of choice. To live or to die. It is always there, and sometimes the choice is made for us. I guess it's my way of telling god "You, can't fire me, I quit." Anyone who has ever told me "i love you" has lied. Because who can love someone who doesn't even love herself? No one loves me, and I love the world. Fuck you god, feel my wrath. Feel my pain. Feel my sorrow. Or I swear to god this will be the last bullet I swallow. Lola Chapter 1 My real name always bothered me. So I always used my middle name. It fits, it's Lola. Nice porn star name don't you think? I can already imagine myself stripping to Elvis's Jail House rock while a bunch of horny 40 year olds forget about their wives and children for 3 hours and stuff singles into my crevices while i shake it for them. Ahh the life of a stripper. I used to go to the strip clubs with my friends. We used to sit in the back corner and look for the infamous "wedding band tan" and count the number of them who went to the back-room for a super slippery lap-dance. This was just one example of the corruption of men. But we weren't ones to talk. As the lights turned low and as the bartender stopped serving drinks, we would go outside in our short jean skirts and our tight blouses and wait for the drunks to come about. Most of the time they were going through a midlife crisis and would do anything for a screw. Anything. The others were too young to have decent bank in their accounts, so we never bothered with them. We would walk up to them and get whatever we wanted from them, with the right words or phrases. They were our freaking lap dogs in the span of an hour. Now you imagine someone like me, tight ass, long legs, nice rack, big doe eyes, and pigtails come up to you shaking their stuff, informing you that they are barely legal. You'd bust a zipper in your pants. A few of them did. We would play our little mind games, get a lil free booze, a lil cash, and leave. They couldn't rape us, not after the fact we tell them we aren't 18 just yet, and most definitely not after the fact that we remind them that we know everything. We know about their families We know all about their job. We know all about their wife or girlfriend. We even know about their little dog. We knew all we needed to know. Because they told us. It was beautiful, we exposed those dirt bags and milked them for all they were worth. Not once did we see a familiar face in that strip club, not once did those guys return. We liberated them. Or so we liked to tell ourselves. In fact we just got more money for ourselves. More money for the three things that make our little worlds go round. Sex. Drugs. Violence. And we loved every minute of it. That is, until someone else tried to get in my party. Actually, a couple of people. Schizophrenia affects 1% of the population, during a lifetime. Lucky me I guess. But before you hear my story you must understand my condition. I guess I fucking deserve it compared to other people... Other people who are cursed like me. It's funny, because I always thought that schizophrenia only affected homeless people, the ones you see wandering the littered streets of downtown-where-ever. In every lifetime we see at least one of those, the inverted hobo screaming at himself over uncoehearant babble. We stay away from those people. They scare us. They scared me. I remember making fun of them, I remember thinking that him being different made me better. I remember throwing my little decaf double latte bullshit at the guy, while my friends cheered. He stopped talking and looked directly at me. I remember those eyes. I remember those cold eyes. I remember those crying eyes. I will never forget those eyes. And then he looked away and continued to babble, as if deep in conversation like he once was, while the hot coffee seeped through his trash bags and rags on his back. We laughed at his misfortune and continued to walk away, my friends lit up cigarettes, and talked about bullshit that didn't even matter. I wish I could go back and find him, talk to him, apologise to him. But then again, I would have to see those eyes, and I would rather suffer by myself. Being schizophrenic is like being in a constant dream. Every sense you posses (sight, sound, touch, smell, and thought) is numb, or even worse. You can't trust it. You run from something that isn't chasing you, you scream from something that isn't scareing you, you cry over something that isn't bothering you, you even moan from something that isn't pleasuring you. Some people, like me, can control it. But most people can't. Those are the ones you don't see. The ones who's family stuffed them in asylums, I think thats the biggest laugh at all, all your life you are taught to trust your family. What a joke. Trust them to take you to a place that can make you "all better," trust them to abandon you to someone elses care as soon as you become an "inconvieniance?" Trust them to believe that you aren't the black sheep of the family. Your supposed to trust them enough to tell them that you cannot eat at the dinner table because you think that you are going to attack your crippled younger brother with a butter knife because he is trying to control your mind with his wheel chair. Try THAT with mom and dad. At least I knew the voices weren't real. At least I knew I was crazy, and everyone else was sane. I knew because I can remember when they first started talking to me. But I think my insanity started much earlyer than that. My insainty started with my self-destruction. post comment

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