Alice liked to practice dancing.
She would play indies, Gothic and heavy rock songs, along with other genres she had come across on the Internet, from the ineffective speakers on her Kindle, and the music came out sounding warped and jerky, but she didn't care. She would spin around the room, arms outstretched, feet scuffing and skidding across the carpeted floor out of time with the music.
She paid no mind to how badly her dancing went with the beat of the songs.
Screamo was impossible to dance to anyway.
She was playing a slow, sleepy song about murder now, though, and was swaying side to side, turning slowly in a circle while she did so. She swung her arms out and back at random, giving her dance an odd, graceless rhythm.
She stepped left suddenly, though the song implied no movement.
The door opened, and her dad stepped in. He was wearing the same shirt he had been yesterday, and his eyes were tired and had rose colored veins branching towards his irises.
Alice stopped dancing, even though he had already seen her.
"Hiya, sweetie," he said, smiling, his lips as tired as his eyes. "Whatcha doin'?"
Alice shrugged. The next song on her playlist came on: a song with fast instrumentals and aggressive vocals.
Her dad laughed. He had a strange, stuttering laugh that was too awkward not to be genuine.
"I liked the other song better," he said.
Alice stepped over to her Kindle, which was sitting on her desk, and tapped the previous song. Her dad smiled.
"You know how to slow dance?" he asked.
Alice shrugged. "Kind of."
"C'mere. I'll show you."
Alice walked over slowly. Her head was held straight, but her eyes roamed the carpet. Cake crumbs and cat hair flecked the floor. It hadn't been vacuumed in almost a month.
Her dad showed her how to position her hands and feet. He placed one of his hands on her shoulder and one half on her waist, half on her back.
"Okay...and now...I think...you count." Her dad laughed again. "Is slow dancing the counting one?"
Alice shrugged.
"I think it is." He cleared his throat. "Four, if I remember right. I think it's one," he stepped to the side, "two is backwards I think. No, I step backwards, not both of us. Step forward when I step back. And then three is to your right..."
Alice stumbled over his feet.
He caught her and gave her a quick hug before letting go. "Sorry. Your mom always led when we danced."
"It's fine."
The faster, angrier song came back on, and her dad shuffled back to the door.
"Mkay. I'll let you get back to whatever you do in here all day." He chuckled and stepped back into the TV room, leaving the door open.
Alice crossed the room and closed it.
Her wrists and the inside of her elbows itched. She pulled up her left sleeve to inspect the skin, though she knew what was underneath. Small, circular scabs pocked her skin, some a rusty brown, the newer ones a dull, crusty scarlet. One was infected, and was ringed with swollen pink.
She picked at the infected one with a long, recently painted fingernail. The scab opened like the lid to a box. Blood and pus welled up from it, mixing into a fulvous cream.
Alice moved to a different scab. This one was old, and when she peeled it off, only reddened, dry skin was underneath. She bit her lip, dissatisfied.
She pinched a section of skin on her anterior wrist, near her hand. It stung. She dug into the flesh, piercing it with the tip of her nail. Claret trickled down her arm. She crouched and opened the bottom drawer of her dresser, in which she kept a roll of toilet paper. Inside was a cardboard tube, which was wrapped with two squares of one ply paper.
Alice staunched the bleeding as much as she could with the small amount of toilet paper, but the blood still dribbled down her arm. Finally, unsure of what else to do, she licked it. The metallic taste stained the back of her throat, and a crimson residue mapped out were the blood had run.
The wound had mostly stopped bleeding. The blood was clotting, leaving a sticky, gummy film over the opening. Alice crumpled up the toilet paper and stuffed it in her pocket to throw away later.
She stood and took her Kindle from her desk. Jaiden had messaged her.
Jaiden: Hi! How R U?
Alice: Fine
Jaiden: That's great!
Alice: I guess
Jaiden: Do U need 2 talk about anything?
Alice: No
Jaiden: U sure?
Alice: Yes
Jaiden: OK.
Alice: My head hurts
Jaiden: U alright?
Alice: Yes. Its just that I just noticed
Jaiden: I'm glad Pippa's OK, aren't U?
Alice: Yes its not like I wanted her to be dead I just thought she might be
Jaiden: I know! Margarita just gets a little upset sometimes. Don't take it 2 personally.
Alice: I know
Jaiden: OK. I'm glad U understand.
Alice: Yeah
Jaiden: U understand Y she was upset, though, right?
Alice: Not really. I thought it was kind of stupid of her
Jaiden: She was just worried about Pippa already, so thinking about her being dead just really upset her.
Alice: Still
Jaiden: R U mad at her?
Alice: Yes
Jaiden: I understand Y U would B upset, but try 2 understand it from her point of view, OK?
Alice: Shes ridiculous
Alice closed Zodiak.
She wasn't sure why she talked to Jaiden about how she felt.
YOU ARE READING
Crossing Stars
Teen Fiction[Quick warning: some of the sexual and death related content in this could bother some people. It's probably fine for most teenagers and older, but if that sort of thing bothers you a lot, you might not want to read it.] Life is hard, especially for...
