Last time wasn’t as good as I’d hoped. Things had somewhat changed between us. The atmosphere felt tense, even the sharpest knife couldn’t cut through it but it felt so right.
He sat there, staring at me. When I touched him he was cold; however, his smile was warm. There was something somewhat magical about that night. The butterflies, they were dancing inside me; waltzing perhaps. It felt as if they would just erupt out of my throat carrying everything negative inside of me away. Far away.
I’m stranded in no-man’s land. Fickle, frustrated, frozen… I love Dad but I’m just his puppet: he controls me. Mum’s amazing but she’s always busy with work or friends; she never has time for me. Overcome by a social hierarchy where I am at rock bottom. “Ugly Cow” “Pathetic Loser” they would roar from the school corridors. When everybody fails me, HE is always here beside me.
They’re doing it again. They’re rowing. The joust has begun and I have front row seats- exclusive, you could say. They charge towards each other, shouting the odds. I want to discourage them but I get a kick out of seeing them tear each other apart. After all, they deserve it don’t they? They dismiss my presence in the room as if I’m… nothing. I wish to wake up one morning and see Mum slumped on her bed, her scarlet red beaded necklace draping from her throat. What I would give to see Dad swinging from the bathroom ceiling, his body limp and cold. That sight would be somewhat, beautiful…
There’s only one person I need in my life, the one I truly love and need; him. Everybody else is an unnecessary nuisance. I spend nights convincing myself I can live without him but I surrender and admit that he is everything to me. He is the only one who understands me; he really digs deep down inside me and soothes the emotional pain tearing my heart and soul apart. He ignites my flame when others have blighted it. When he’s not with me, there’s always a mark of him on me: a mark of love.
I need to see him now. I cannot wait any longer my withdrawal symptoms are far more than I can handle. I need to feel his touch. I need to caress his smooth, perfect body. There’s a voice…IT’S HIM! He’s calling me. I’m roaming the house but cannot seem to find him!
I stop. Breathe .Listen. My heart is thudding. I’ve found him. My eyes are widening, pupils dilate. His eyes are glistening, oh how I wish I could live in his eyes. I stroke him, he laughs. I am at ease, I am serene.
Last time wasn’t as good as I’d hoped. Things had somewhat changed between us though, I forgave him. He didn’t fulfill me as much as I had hoped but he made the pain go away. I clasp him and move him all over my body. He touches my wrist, he knows my soft spot. I press him into my veins and watch the blood ooze out- I am one. He is all I need, he soothes all the hatred and fear inside of me. His mark will be with me forever, I will never forget him. A sight like this is truly…beautiful.
Dear Chex
ReplyDeleteWell done, this is looking good! The idea is original and well-executed: leading the reader to believe they're hearing about teenage love, but no, surprise! - it's a drug addiction... it's clever, and has that sinister feeling that kicks in at the end as you think it's something much more 'sweet and innocent'.
I think you can play up this illusion even more - any more double meanings you can weave in? 'He doesn't go on about my appearance, he doesn't want me to change'.. 'they say he's not good for me but I know better'...you know, give us more 'false leads' about 'his' personality/appearance/the relationship they have.
There are one or two places, though, where I think the words you choose can't really apply to the syringe - the 'smile', the 'laugh' and possibly the 'eyes'. Also the word 'person' (as opposed to 'him' or 'the one'). When I re-read the piece after knowing what it was really aboiut, these stood out to me and I felt they didn't quite allow for this double meaning, they're not ambiguous enough. There are ways of getting around this, of course. Eg instead of 'eyes', 'the glint as he looks at me'...
About her relationship with her parents - to my mind, the gruseome way she visualises them dead seems at odds with the way she introduces the topic - 'i love dad, but' or 'mum's great, but' - she seems later on to really HATE them. So, I think you
might work on the emotional consistency a bit here.
It might be worthwhile re-structuring the piece a bit, giving the sense of a 'story' rather than a series of thoughts - gives the reader a sense of progression.
For example-
para 1: the immediate past: how 'last time' wasn't as good; how it was different/less good
para 2: the background to her situation: how she hates school and her family; how 'he' is the opposite of that, and a way out for her
para 3: how she feels/thinks now: how, even though it's less good than it was, she still wants to be with him
para 4: the action climax - she hears his voice, finds him, and you 'reveal' the real story.
(This structure is only a suggestion of course, but I think tighter structuring as a general idea would be an improvement)
Good luck & well done so far
Claire
Thank you for the comment :)
ReplyDeleteI will be re-drafting the story.
However, I don't think the meaning is put across very well because she's not talking about a syringe, she's talking about a razor blade because she self harms. :)