Post by Cheese on Mar 17, 2011 18:52:09 GMT -5
The humdrum tapping of polished nails upon granite was the only sound to occupy the vacuum of silence that lingered about the room. Clearly, Kyleigh Tiernan was bored. There wasn't much to be excited about these days. The events of the past years had transformed the girl into a hollow, cynical, narcissistic shell of what she had once been. Despite her extraordinary IQ, she had dropped high school almost immediately after he left. There were only two things she had to worry about now: Getting food, and getting the needle. She wasn't mad anymore, per se. The heroine didn't really give her an opportunity to be mad. There wasn't anybody to be angry at anymore. He was gone. Where to? She didn't know. Hell, nobody did. She didn't really sleep anymore - the telltale dark, drooping skin beneath her eyes blemished her once flawless porcelain flesh.
The filthy apartment suite she occupied was littered with scraps of food that must have been weeks old. Dishes were piled in the sink, covered in filth. There was a leak in the ceiling - a bucket was positioned under to collect the water, but it had spilled over long ago, soaking the carpet to a dark brown. Did Kyleigh enjoy the filth? No. She simply did not care. If it did not involve food or the needle, it was irrelevant. How long had it been since she had any kind of human contact? Weeks? Maybe a month. She couldn't be sure. Did she like being alone? Not really. She used to find some solace in stewing in her own grief and anger, but the needle took that away.
She missed people. She missed her dad. She missed Lae. She missed all the stupid shit they had gone through together. Well, she used to miss it. That longing melted away as soon as the needle entered her vein. It was the only thing to keep her from crying out. In fury. In pain. She used to argue with herself why he had just vanished like that. The arguments became too painful though.
Presently, as Kyleigh drummed her fingernails against the desolate granite tabletop, these emotions of fear, anger, and pain swelled within her breast. Caught off guard, she immediately reached for a nearby syringe. She fumbled in her pockets for the ounce she purchased last week. It was empty.
"Fuck," she uttered, the sound resounding through the room. She blankly stared at the needle, struggled to her feet, and shoved the chair under the table. A throbbing headache built in her temple. "Fuck, fuck!" She kicked the chair. Irrational rage. She took the chair and threw it with a force unusual to a girl of her stature. It thudded against the wall, leaving a sizable mark. Her shoulders heaving, she shakily withdrew the latch from her door, and stepped into the hall. Her tired, amber eyes twitched from left to right nervously as she shuffled to the door. Her skeletal hand shoved the door open as her other dove into her pocket for her cigarettes. She carefully withdrew a single roll, placed it in her mouth, lit it, and continued on her journey for dope.
The filthy apartment suite she occupied was littered with scraps of food that must have been weeks old. Dishes were piled in the sink, covered in filth. There was a leak in the ceiling - a bucket was positioned under to collect the water, but it had spilled over long ago, soaking the carpet to a dark brown. Did Kyleigh enjoy the filth? No. She simply did not care. If it did not involve food or the needle, it was irrelevant. How long had it been since she had any kind of human contact? Weeks? Maybe a month. She couldn't be sure. Did she like being alone? Not really. She used to find some solace in stewing in her own grief and anger, but the needle took that away.
She missed people. She missed her dad. She missed Lae. She missed all the stupid shit they had gone through together. Well, she used to miss it. That longing melted away as soon as the needle entered her vein. It was the only thing to keep her from crying out. In fury. In pain. She used to argue with herself why he had just vanished like that. The arguments became too painful though.
Presently, as Kyleigh drummed her fingernails against the desolate granite tabletop, these emotions of fear, anger, and pain swelled within her breast. Caught off guard, she immediately reached for a nearby syringe. She fumbled in her pockets for the ounce she purchased last week. It was empty.
"Fuck," she uttered, the sound resounding through the room. She blankly stared at the needle, struggled to her feet, and shoved the chair under the table. A throbbing headache built in her temple. "Fuck, fuck!" She kicked the chair. Irrational rage. She took the chair and threw it with a force unusual to a girl of her stature. It thudded against the wall, leaving a sizable mark. Her shoulders heaving, she shakily withdrew the latch from her door, and stepped into the hall. Her tired, amber eyes twitched from left to right nervously as she shuffled to the door. Her skeletal hand shoved the door open as her other dove into her pocket for her cigarettes. She carefully withdrew a single roll, placed it in her mouth, lit it, and continued on her journey for dope.