Thread: This Skin is Stained

Please, try to talk tough. I've been such a bad girl, tell me all I've done wrong and I'll change! She said in a clearly mocking tone, putting her hands together like she was going to pray for forgiveness. She gave him a flat look as she dropped her hands, adjusted herself on the bench as it squeaked. She wasn't buying that he was even trying to be friendly. More like trying to figure out how to approach her. She wasn't some fucking pony that needed to be calmed and fed. She was person, damnit, even if she didn't care about much these days. As he spoke, she tuned him out somewhat, knowing what he was gonna say. It was all the same. People died, people got ill, people got out and some never did. She didn't care about that shit. But the more and more he talked to her like she was stupid, the more her temper rose. She'd always had a temper, even when faced with an endless sea of pain and heartbreak, she'd still be able to be mad at someone, even if that someone had been herself. Enough with the pep talk, coach, you're killing me. Do you think this has anything to do with being smart? With thinking? I can tell you drink more than you should, but I ain't saying you should just up and quit. What the fuck ever. Being able to feel something other than misery and numbness, or anger and agony, is the reason, if you have to know. She reached into her top to take out a cigarette and lighter and lit up again, already annoyed with the conversation. It wasn't something to be ashamed of or proud of. It was what it was. She had tried healthier methods. She'd tried running. She'd tried swimming. She'd tried self-defense classes. Those had helped, but not enough. When she'd tried killing herself, that had been a rush, a glorious way to go. But she'd been stopped so she had wanted to find another way to get that rush without feeling someone's hands on her throat. So she'd started with pills and man those had kicked her into that sweet, sweet high. It had started with a single tab of X, but it hadn't stopped there. Oh no, it hadn't stopped there.. You think I give a shit what happened to a two-bit fuck up ODer? I've seen worse. Hell, I watched someone OD before and no one called the ambulance but me because the stupid punk was too young to die. But I've seen worse than that. So don't tell me it's a damn crying shame. She took a drag and let the smoke out slowly, feeling her body start to shake with some of her angst. She didn't want to be a loose cannon around him, so she smoked in silence for a few good minutes. Once the cigarette was gone, she fingered the ring she still kept on her finger, concealing it as best she could from his eyes. The sapphire winked at her in the light and she found her sense of calm even as her mind said, take another hit. If you think I have some pimp or whatever, I don't. I've gotten into fights with stupid bitches and drunken assholes wanting a free ride. So these bruises are from some people who got too friendly. But they have it worse. She grinned at him before looking back down at her hand, feeling the memories start to well up as she played with the ring. Rafe would hate her...Rafe would totally hate her...but he was dead. So even if he could muster up hate, she had nothing left.