One
I’ve lost my appetite.
Buts that's nothing new
But I’m staring at a perfectly good piece of cake right now, and for some reason, I can’t eat it. I feel queasy.
But it's my 18 birthday mom would feel bad if I didn't eat it.
I keep tapping the cake with the tines of my fork, each time a little harder, and now it’s half-collapsed and the frosting is scarred. Mutilated. I never meant to disfigure an innocent piece of cake—it’s downright criminal to waste food, especially cake—but there’s something soothing about the repetitive motion and the soft, gentle resistance of the vanilla sponge.
Slowly, I drag my free hand down my face.
I’ve had worse days. Greater losses. Shittier nights. But somehow this feels like a new kind of hell.
Tension gathers in my shoulders, knotting together to generate dull, throbbing pain that branches across my back. I try to breathe it out, try to stretch the stress out of my muscles, but nothing helps. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, hunched over an unfinished slice of cake. Hours, maybe.
While everyone chats gleefully around me as if I'm not dying
Maybe I'm not dying
Maybe thier dying
Maybe I'm dreaming
But dreams last for 10 years probably not
I take a glance around the half-full dining hall. Room? Tent?
Definitely a tent.
I squint up at the long, whitewashed wooden beams supporting the ceiling. Maybe tent-adjacent. There’s a cream-colored canvas shrouding everything on the outside, but it’s obvious from the interior that this is a solid, freestanding building. I don’t know why they bother with the tents. I hope they serve some kind of practical purpose, because otherwise it seems dumb. Everything else is pretty spare.
I stab at the cake again. It’s late—long past midnight—and my body exhausted but I smile my vision is dim my head aches and I'm ready to cough up a lung but if I showed any weakness mom would loose any sense of equilibrium.
And dad he'd disapear, sometimes I wonder if he's real or figment of my imagination mom swears he's real and a times I don't know if she's convincing herself or me definitely neither
I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m so goddamn tired.
I know I should leave, get some sleep, but I can’t make myself abandon the warm glow of this room for the cold loneliness of my tent. It’s so bright in here. It’s obvious that mom and the catoring people —are really into light. It’s their specialty. Her superpower. She is a florist after all . String lights strung across the ceiling. Lanterns lining the walls and doorways. it’s full of warm light, not fire. I wish the was it would make this heinous party a little more interesting but It does feel cozy.
Plus, it smells like life in here.
Tilting head away from the mess I've made I spot Ian my 17 year old neighbor he's making his way towards me.
I feel queasy again
He's always flirting with me
So I make an impulsive decision I make a run for why I don't know seems like the right thing to do when a resident flirt comes your way
Everyone is screaming my name I'm dragging my bag with me I probably look like I'm flying
I make it onto the street bad decision but I've never been known for making good ones
And that is way I'm in the middle of the road far from my own party about to get run over by two cars on either side of the road
At least it's not a happy ending.......
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Assassinate
Mystery / ThrillerJustice never prevails North swift unfairly in prisoned for at tempted murder the murder of her asssulter Desperate for revenge she makes allies with the female inmates and gaurdes who are ready to help her from the inside and the outside First prov...
