So I wrote this little short story. It kinda lost its vision towards the end because I ment to just sit down and write it over the course of an hour or so, but it took me two days to get it done, so I veered of track. Anywho, you can check it out here and lemme know what you think.
I remember you. When I caught your eyes on that sandy colored sidewalk, I knew you. You looked back at me like I was a tickle on the back of your mind, begging to be recalled. I can understand. I do understand, completely.
Its because Im not a little girl anymore. You remember me as that little thing, maybe thirteen or fourteen. A foster kid in your best buddys house. You never treated me like a little girl though. I was just me to you. Thats what I found so endearing about you.
God knows I could use the kindness. After what I had came from before I got to that house. Nightmare, thats the only word that there is to describe it. It was painful and shameful. Thats why I was so scared to speak to you at first.
Not that you were scary. I just didnt want to admit anything to myself because of the violation I had been handed. You were good to me. Like a big pious bandage. You never knew though. Thats all well and good.
I know Im different now. New wounds are mixed with those old scars. My face has changed. From a blank canvas of fading bruises and markings of adolescences to what it is now. A painted picture of nicked make-up and the metal under my lip gleaming with the fillers of the many holes now in my ears.
But you still see through the mask. That steel thing I put up when Im out on these streets. It keeps me safe. Youve got one too. I can tell. Youre as different now to me as I am to you. Real world got ya huh? I see it. Maybe not in the nine to five sense, but still did.
We drift to the same building. I look at you for a moment to be sure. Then I say hi and call you by name. You pause for a while to let that tickle envelope your memories. You echo my name back to me as if its a question. Then you smile. You remember.
We sit, we talk. You ask where Ive been. I know what you mean by it. You got the concept for what it was like to be me as a kid. I left that life at seventeen. I hated not being in control of where I was or where I was to go. I kinda avoid it. Say I been here and there, ask you where you had been.
It had been six years, even though the conversation didnt seem like it. Still had to be some place far for me not to catch you in passing in the old neighborhood. You tell me you went out west. Santa Cruz. NYU didnt suit you.
I look at you, you look at me. Time just slips. Ten minutes so quickly turned into an hour and a half. We leave eventually. I would have invited you back to my place. Too many people there. So we just walk. Neither of us had anywhere to be.
I told you I was surprised that you remembered me. You said there was no way youd forget me. I was a real individual you said. Now, the recognizing was another story. Said thats why you stared at me like a dumb ass for a minute there.
I suddenly felt overly solid. I told you that people have a way of changing. I didnt really feel that different. Just that since youd seen me last, I was able to put on the outside who I was and how I felt more. Unlike that little girl youre use to.
You touched my arm too much while we talked. I wasnt used to that. Dont really know why you did it. I dont like being touch. I didnt say anything. That little girl you knew didnt like being touched even more. To feel someone elses skin was to feel ache.
I shouldnt think of that. It would only make me remember. Cant remember, wont remember. Its bad to remember. Let them go. Now, turn away. Okay, youre coping. Dont go back there.
Im back. You look at me concerned. I asked you what was up. You take off on another subject. Ask how old I am now. Nearly twenty I say. Defiantly not that adolescent. Not in body at least. I cant tell if you noticed then or not. Im sure you did. They all do. I hear about it when I try to walk down the street in something other then a sweat shirt and dirty jeans. I have a hard time then even.
But thats why Im steely. To fight in those verbal battles every day. Even physical ones some days. Almost got to be on some talk show that was doing a location because a punched a guy in the face, unknowledgeable to the cameras near by. I tell you this. You laugh.
I ask you about that friend of yours. You tell me you havent heard from him in over two years. He moved off and who knows what else happened. Living, dead, whatever. I understood your philosophy. I had to learn to be like that with so many people coming in and out of my life over the times.
You asked me what it was kids these days did for fun. I say Im not a kid and call you an ass wipe. You say fine and then ask where it is that us young adults did for fun. I told you I knew just the spot.
So I took you to an underground club. The kind where our kind of people hang out. Well, what used to be your kind of people. No townies or bullshit. All the pierced and tattooed and band shirt wearing freaks could converse.
I like it. Its where all my labels commit suicide and I am only me. Known by my name, not my group or look. I loved that. Wouldnt trade it for anything. Well, maybe you. But thats cutting it close. But you wouldnt ask that of me.
Course, that attitude didnt get me very far in a lot of areas, like getting a job. Well, corporate America can blow me. If they had it their way, wed all look like those kids in the Another Brick in the Wall part of The Wall by Pink Floyd.
You didnt look around at your surroundings much. Actually, you seemed kinda terrified. Like they would reject you and you didnt want that. Nah, not these, least not the ones I knew. And if they treated you dirty, Id have to cut them.
Your eyes dart from me to your watch. You say its getting late. I tell you its only one and if thats late then you really must be getting old. You shake your head and kinda step away. Then you say to hell with it and step towards me vehemently and shove your mouth against mine forcefully in a matter that hurts.
Im not complaining. I like a guy that isnt one to pussy foot. I like it when a person isnt afraid of bleeding or screaming for what they want. Maybe even die for it.
I wanted you to give yourself over to me. Let me take you for what I wanted. A little girl doesnt think like that do they? At least, they shouldnt.
I take hold of you. I dont like being held, I like to grasp hard, but not be detained. You like it though. Im no longer weak, but a strong woman. You like that. You let it be known.
We go to where youve been staying. A two star hotel. Ive stayed in by far worse. But the stars dont matter. Not for what I have planed for you. Nuh uh. For those moments, you were mine for my bidding. The tool to soothe my restlessness, that was all you were in that moment.
But then something happened. Unlike the others, you didnt let me be as disconnected as I wanted to be. You wanted it to be rough and tender at the same time. I didnt know how to handle that. I began to panic.
Then you laid your skin upon mine like I never let anyone do before. I struggled against it. I was suppose to domineer over people. Otherwise they would consume me. Never again. But this wasnt like the other times.
No, this was diverse. Your touch said you wanted to know more of me, not to be owned by me or the want to posses a woman for your greedy use. I didnt understand it. No way this man that wasnt at all that intimidating in the way he appeared could break through my steel.
And for some reason I couldnt run away. I wanted to. I wanted to abandon you right then and there, or after I had gotten off and put back my skewed wardrobe onto my body. But how could I treat you like that?
This confusion was new to me. Nothing was right. But I was the only one holding on to the struggle. I knew it wasnt changing you. Its how you always did it. I didnt want it to change me. It was something I never wanted.
Guess thats another thing about me thats changed. Im kinda colder now then I was then. I was just as full of angst but I know how to dictate over them. What about you? What caused that look in your eyes to change. Did you see someone die that seemed like it wasnt their time? Or did you get into activities that had you flirting constantly with death?
It didnt matter then. Just wanted you to whisper my name and kiss me hard again. Even though it confused me. All I wanted was more. I wanted that sweet release over and over. And in that moment you had the key to the door that it stood behind.
By the time dawn came, the room smelt of my cigarette smoke and body. My hands shook from exasperation of my feelings. I didnt want to hold on to them any longer. I asked you if you really knew what happened to me when I was a kid.
You stammered. Didnt know exactly what to say. Then you told me what you knew. It was the most horrible Cliff Notes version I had ever heard in my life. I told you that it was less then half of it.
Then I told you why I brought it up. I usually just fucked and ran. Or else kicked them out. Never let myself feel anything beyond the physical. I couldnt make myself do that. Getting emotionally evolved some how threw me back to the bad. Guess it was the fear of the corruption of that feeling. I mean, at first that foster didnt seem like a bad guy and I trusted him.
I told you how you didnt let me do that. Whether or not it was on purpose, I didnt know. I demanded to know what your game was. You said you had no game. You were just doing what came natural. I said that people like you should come with warning stickers.
You tell me Ive become something by far beyond that little girl you knew. I told you I knew. Been saying over and over in my head how I wasnt that little girl. Shes gone for the most part, but pieces of her still sleeps in the back of my mind. Kinda like how she was that tingle in the back of your mind.
Let her stay as that tingle. Im not that person anymore. Im something more. And by God on high, because of people like you, I can not remain the same for very long.