UNTOUCHED

okay, for the record, i don't think i EVER want kids anymore.
at least not a boy.

for VBS, i was only supposed to have six kids.
i had eight.
and one was the type of kid that would listen to NOTHING you said, ALWAYS talk, and just UGH.
i mean, i don't want to go back tomorrow.
wow.
but there were three little girls that were worth the whole day.

it's REALLY tiring though.

--

and health online is SO much work.
i mean UGH. TIRED, MUCH?

i have to write notes for five more chapters, and i have some personal fitness thing to do, that i havent started because i have NO idea what the CRAP we're suppossed to do.
and i cant just NOT do it. i'd fail.
and i cant fail.

so, yeah.
death, much?

--

home alone works well for me.
its cooling off in SanDiego well.

you know what that means?
i need HIM to curl up with.

and yeah, i might be talking about my best friend.
and yeah, i'm pretty much in love with the guy.
and yeah, fivehundred miles SUCKS.
but what can i do?

--

okay, "in other news" (i like that line)
i've been listening to The Veronicas. they're amazing.
favorite songs:
UNTOUCHED
Hook Me Up
Take Me On The Floor
Popular
Did Ya Think

they define my life.
well, untouched mostly.
but yeah. go listen.
i like music and movies.
i think i need a summer list.

--

OH, and, the reason why i didnt sleep last night (because i think it was my most amazing writing in a while)


NIGHTMARE
(theres two endings)


She sat there, on the couch, looking at her food. It repulsed her. She smelled it, it was only sitting there for a matter of hours, and it smelt like… food. She ran to the bathroom, and collapsed against the counter. Looking up, she didn’t recognize the girl reflected in the mirror.
Still the same colour hair, the auburn, but it hung limply, brushed, but neglected. Her face was sunken in, like a skeleton. Her clothes were at least two sizes too big, and hung limply around her shivering form. She lifted her sweatshirt and two shirts to look at herself. Her ribs poked out from her body, no fat could be found, no muscle. She looked like a piece of cloth draped around a hanger. There was nothing to her, and she could blow away in the wind. Yet, Sam was still repulsed. She knew that as soon as she walked out that door, into his arms, he would have something to throw at her for her to improve on.
And her eyes. They stayed the same throughout the past four months. They were still the same hazel eyes, just maybe a little more sad. Maybe they had some fear reflected too. And Sam looked tired. Extremely tired.
She walked to her room, and slowly opened the door. It was the scarcest place in the house. The place where the nightmares happen. She grabbed the door handle, and turned it. The door opened with a loud creek, and a bang as it his the wall. When she heard no movement, she knew that she was home alone. She always was. It wouldn’t be home without the silence.
She walked into the poignant room, to see the messy bed, the sheets torn aside form the most recent nightmares, clothes thrown about the room, and everything dark and sinister. She smiled. Light was coming through the curtains, she had a few hours of happiness left.
With the furniture listening, Sam asked, “Is this what its come to? This menacing crap and I’m happy? How did I turn out like this?” she turned, tripped, and fell to the ground, hearing a resisting crack. Crying out in pain, Sam slowly lifted herself up. The thin girl winced at her broken wrist as she set it back into place, and searched for a splint.
She always had one lying around, why couldn’t she find one?
“Looking for this?” Sam’s eyes closed, she grimaced, and looked up.
“You’re early,” she replied. She could smell the smoke and the liquor on him. She knew the nightmare tonight would be worse then all the others. He replied with a yes, some excuse, and the usual insult of, “why don’t you ever dress up for me anymore?”
And, as usual, Sam replied with an apology, and excuse, only to be slapped across the room. He grabbed her wrist and put the brace around it. “Better, you fucking klutz?” he asked her. She only nodded in response.
And that only pissed him off more. He tore the sweatshirt off her to hear her cry in surprise. Quickly, he tore the rest of her clothing off as well.
She was crying now, more then she ever had any of the other times. And then he saw it, the bruises he left, perfect fist marks all down her sides, the cuts all across her back and thighs. He smiled at them, kissed every one, and Sam shuddered every time.
Slowly, after his work was done, he pulled out, and walked out of her house after a few more insults. It couldn’t even be called a home anymore, not with nightmares.
Sam slowly got up, dragged her clothes back on, and looked at her face in the mirror. The stranger staring back wiped the smeared makeup off her face, and the hopelessness from her eyes.
Her last escape was still waiting. He hadn’t found that yet.
She ran for the drawer in the kitchen, pulled out everything, lifted the bottom of it, it seemed to be getting heaver, and pulled out her silver friend.
Something she never turned to, but something she now needed.
She dragged it across her skin, immediately feeling weaker. She smiled as the door opened.
He walked in to see her on the floor covered in blood.
She looked up, took the knife and pierced her heart. The last thing she remembered was the look of terror on his face as she smiled. She was free.

OR
He walked in to see her on the floor covered in blood.
She looked up, but couldn’t move her arm. She wouldn’t be able to finish her job. He called the hospital; they said she’d make it.It looks like she’d be staying with nightmares forever after all.