The Awakining- editing

Karma's A Bitch

Every time I kill, I get an intense almost ethereal amount of nausia, but who cares, I do what I do for a reason.

I swollow hastely, as a sickeningly repulsive liquid envades my mouth, yep the perks of being a Drikey are endless.

"Hey Em, you done over there ?" I hear Ara shout, Ara is one of my fellow Drikeys, if she werent one she might have been considered a friend, but Drikeys are supposedly loners, therefor I can't befriend any, it kind of sucks, I would easily get along with her, its not like we would be scolded or anything, but she thinks differently.

"Yeah, whats up?"

"I hear Marcus is lookin' for you, good luck girl,"

Marcus is the head of us Drikeys here in Manhattan- not to mention my ex- lets just say you didnt want to have a difference in opinion when he was around, frankly he kind of scared the beholy mother of jesus out of me ever since the brake-up.

I decide not to show myself to him yet, if he's already looking for me what will another day do?

"Thanks," I mutter, unappreciatively as I start walking to old rowdey church, where me and mom are holdup after being evicted from our last apartment.

I think you've gathered I'm not exactly the good girl your brother secretly has a crush on, I'm the drunk uneasy lightweight who your mother warned you to stay away from, I wasn't always like this only since my brothers left us, followed by my father- not that I cared what happened to my father- and then mom lost her job, I have two brothers, Julian, he's twenty and Desmond, who is twenty-seven, and Emery. . .

I'm about five miles from home - well as homey as rotting old church could be- I could see the peeling wood and plastered down shutters, the front door was emerald, which I had painted over an old faded cross, don't get me wrong it still looked like church- inside and out- but consoled my feeling about the whole we-got-kicked-out-of-our-apartment-and-are-now-living-in-a-church-and-you-better-damn-well-remember-it shit.

"Mom?" I call as I attempt to push the front door into submission.

"In here," her voice resonating around the house, I can faintly here her humming, renouncing her place in the house to the kitchen

"How was studying with Ivy?" She asks and gives me a crusty smile.

"Fine. . . "

Ok, so I haven't told my mother about the whole me being a Drikey thing, if she knew I would be sent on the next train to the cheapest-or as mom said 'more affordable'- boarding school.

"Marcus stopped by, you didn't tell me he was over,"

"Yeah, whatever," it wouldn't be the first time I had strung somebody along.

"I'm going to bed. . . And no I am not hungry," I say, before leaving the kitchen.

My bedroom is a small loft suspended above an old sitting area, where I assume, the reverend would sit and have meetings with broken couples and lost souls, lost souls like mine.

*****

I wake with a start, sweat rivulets swim down my forehead, my hair sticks to my temple and neck. I am gasping for some unknown reason. I look around the loft everything looks normal, books mounted at every corner, alcohol bottles spilled leaving stains on my floor. I look at my wall clock and see it is 2:30 am.

My eyes avert as I see movement occur. A figure slumps forward arching his . . . Her back. It takes a moment for my eyes to attune to the dark, and I know who it is standing at the edge of my bed.

"Marcus," I gasp "What are you doing here?"

He snares down at me.

"This is what happens to little bitches, who defy me," his voice is low and menacingly cold.

"Marcus, I don't-"

"Of course you don't," he chuckles, he is walking toward, more like slithering, daring me to try and defend myself.

Before I know it a pillow is stuffed over my face, my screams are muffled and what I see next is almost as bad as my father,

I see one thing. . .

One thing. . .

Thing. . .

Black. . . and sink into an abyss.

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A/N

let me know what you think so far. . .

sorry for the language, just trying to relate to my character. thanks

ps: who likes the irony that she is a drunk?

XXX - M