Thoughts
"So, hows it been, you and that other girl?" That piercing stare and
icy tone, I've heard it on rare occasion.
"Fine, I guess." Keep the tone light and non-chalant. The brown haired
woman is searching my face again.
"Liar. No relationship should be 'I guess'. Whats going on?" Eyes like
a hawk. Brains like a whip. Very Frightening.
"Not your buisness." I can feel my face darken, along with my thoughts.
Storm clouds are coming.
"Shut up, it is when I can tell you've been obsessing." Weird, whats
she looking for? Eyes totally locked with mine, not wavering.
"I told you, stay out of it. Its between me and her." Stay calm, stand
your ground. Dammit, why doesn't she ever waiver that fucking hawks
eye glare?
"You're shitting me. You are shitting me. I won't let you leave until
you tell me whats going on between you and Sam." Those muddy brown
eyes just cleared themselves.
"Fine, we broke up. Happy?" Those words truly burn deep in the clear,
yet unreadable depths of my friend's eyes.
"Really? Too bad for you, I'm not satisfied. Take off your damn
sunglasses and really look me in the eye. Tell me what happened."
Grr....she doesn't get it dose she. Ah well, it can't hurt to take off
the glasses. As I remove them, something occurs to me and I realize
that taking off the glasses will probably just get me into deeper
shit. Too late.
"There, will you leave me alone now?" The look on her face is nearly
priceless.
"What did she.....?" Shock, maybe confusion reaches across her face.
No...maybe the emotion is something else. Ah well, can't place a
finger on it right now.
"It wasn't more that a broken beer bottle. Trust me, it doesn't hurt
anymore either." I winced, she saw me do it too. The cut from the
bottle above my eye is pretty bad, but not vision imparing.
"Where is the other rest, no---I won't, hey come back here!" Too bad
I'm a sucker for this sort of thing. She grabs my hand faster than I
can see. Without much thought I fix a hand around her throat. Oh yeah,
she's good. Now we both run the risk of choking eachother to death.
Her fingers begin to squeeze my throat gently.
"Bitch." She grins at me.
"Bold statement for you." I try to smile back but she suddenly
squeezes hard.
"What----th--e---h--ell do yo-u wa-nt." She grins again and then lets
go. I step back massaging my throat, then fall backwards onto the
chair.
"For you to be honest." She sits down next to me and waits, eyeing me
with a slight pensiveness.
"Fine." I remove the worn leather bomber jacket. Underneath I wear my
usual white tank top and baggy black pants. My left arm is covered in
dried blood and bandages. Other parts of the tank top are splotched
with blood creating the appearence of sickly polka dots.
"Hmm. I see. Tell me, are you dying?"
"no."
"Good, then stop moping."
"Now, start from the begining and tell me what happened."
"No, tell me why you care."
"Because, I love you."
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