wehappyfew
Animus
Awake.
What? How?
I downed that whole bottle of pills. I should be...gone.
Instead, I'm still here. And I'm different.
I'm swell.
One Week Later~
"So, I'm in this funky-looking mansion...fighting for my life, against some dude in leather pants. He keeps trash-talking me like he knows how to get under my skin. But I just keep fighting-"
"With a sword?" Bekah says while popcorn throttles her teeth.
"Yeah, a sword..."
Dorothy scoffs and twirls her hair.
"Anyways, he backs me up into a wall, and I'm like...hopeless, right? And he continues his trash-talk. He says "So here we are, no friends, no weapons, no hope-"
"Ugh, you mentioned the hoplessness already," Dorothy looks me dead in the eye, envy taking comfortable host in her core.
"Okay so, I'm there...and he's right. I'm all alone...my sword's been swiped away...no friends, the one who told me to "kick his ass" is long gone...there's just me. And I'm at the end of my rope. And WOOSH!"
Bekah jumps, while Dorothy rolls her eyes.
"I found it. Some source of power deep within....and I fight back, now stronger than ever. Cut to, us standing there. Behind King Leatherpants...a portal opens...and what do I do? I tell him I love him, I kiss him and I freakin kill him...and I wake up."
Dorothy crosses her arms. "Wait, you kiss the guy you were just fighting? I don't get it."
Typical. Truth is, Dorothy and I have never really gotten along. I don't know why but she always feels the need to divert any attention or respect that Bekah may be handing me. Especially lately....ever since that day....
I checked the label to the pills. No doubt they were painkillers. They had been prescribed to my dad after he had back surgery. He didn't seem to miss them when I took them, but I still waited until the perfect moment to die. That was the least perfect moment of my life.
I don't remember a lot of what happened before that day...I know that I had just been rejected from a boarding school I had applied to to escape this place. Sure, I had the grades and the extracurriculars, and still...no avail. I guess in the fifteen years of my life, I had always felt this way. No avail. Even when I strived for perfection, I never made the cut. The eighth grade production of Huck Finn? Yeah, I practiced for the role of Jim, I had the same skin color as Jim, I even went into the audition snacking on a stick of hay. Stanivslaski would be proud...and instead, the role went to Patrick, who ended up having to wear some kind of skin-paint.
The day I was set as the anchor the 4x100 freestyle relay...a kid from JV just magically cut 3 seconds from their time.
Not to mention, the no thanks I got for taking care of my dad for three months after his injury and then for 2 more months after his surgery.
But the big stinger was the day that Ishmael and I made out all through lunch and then he blamed me for "recruiting" him.
I was just tired of never making the cut. I was either the wrong accent, or the wrong writer, or wrong swimmer or wrong-
"Wait a second," Dorothy cocked an eyebrow at me. "So you're telling us that you, Riley Porter, were dreaming of being a girl?"
What? How?
I downed that whole bottle of pills. I should be...gone.
Instead, I'm still here. And I'm different.
I'm swell.
One Week Later~
"So, I'm in this funky-looking mansion...fighting for my life, against some dude in leather pants. He keeps trash-talking me like he knows how to get under my skin. But I just keep fighting-"
"With a sword?" Bekah says while popcorn throttles her teeth.
"Yeah, a sword..."
Dorothy scoffs and twirls her hair.
"Anyways, he backs me up into a wall, and I'm like...hopeless, right? And he continues his trash-talk. He says "So here we are, no friends, no weapons, no hope-"
"Ugh, you mentioned the hoplessness already," Dorothy looks me dead in the eye, envy taking comfortable host in her core.
"Okay so, I'm there...and he's right. I'm all alone...my sword's been swiped away...no friends, the one who told me to "kick his ass" is long gone...there's just me. And I'm at the end of my rope. And WOOSH!"
Bekah jumps, while Dorothy rolls her eyes.
"I found it. Some source of power deep within....and I fight back, now stronger than ever. Cut to, us standing there. Behind King Leatherpants...a portal opens...and what do I do? I tell him I love him, I kiss him and I freakin kill him...and I wake up."
Dorothy crosses her arms. "Wait, you kiss the guy you were just fighting? I don't get it."
Typical. Truth is, Dorothy and I have never really gotten along. I don't know why but she always feels the need to divert any attention or respect that Bekah may be handing me. Especially lately....ever since that day....
I checked the label to the pills. No doubt they were painkillers. They had been prescribed to my dad after he had back surgery. He didn't seem to miss them when I took them, but I still waited until the perfect moment to die. That was the least perfect moment of my life.
I don't remember a lot of what happened before that day...I know that I had just been rejected from a boarding school I had applied to to escape this place. Sure, I had the grades and the extracurriculars, and still...no avail. I guess in the fifteen years of my life, I had always felt this way. No avail. Even when I strived for perfection, I never made the cut. The eighth grade production of Huck Finn? Yeah, I practiced for the role of Jim, I had the same skin color as Jim, I even went into the audition snacking on a stick of hay. Stanivslaski would be proud...and instead, the role went to Patrick, who ended up having to wear some kind of skin-paint.
The day I was set as the anchor the 4x100 freestyle relay...a kid from JV just magically cut 3 seconds from their time.
Not to mention, the no thanks I got for taking care of my dad for three months after his injury and then for 2 more months after his surgery.
But the big stinger was the day that Ishmael and I made out all through lunch and then he blamed me for "recruiting" him.
I was just tired of never making the cut. I was either the wrong accent, or the wrong writer, or wrong swimmer or wrong-
"Wait a second," Dorothy cocked an eyebrow at me. "So you're telling us that you, Riley Porter, were dreaming of being a girl?"