Oh hello there~
Waiting for the heating to kick in so I can take a shower. ****ing British Gas.
okay hun :3 I added ya.
Oooooh, awesome! What's your msn?
Oh my god, I laughed so much. You're such an insane cutie, jakezy<3
Phase Four Secrets, lies, unspoken truths. “Where did this bruise come from, darling?” “I don’t know, miss.” “Emma, are you telling the truth?” “Yes, miss.” “I’ve been seeing a lot of them lately.” That night, Miss Fletching, whom had taught me every day for my 6-year-old life, phoned home. She was concerned about the amount of bruising on my body. My mom must have come up with some good crap; that stupid teacher bought it all. “I didn’t know you’d started doing karate, Emma.” “...Karate?” “Don’t worry, you mom told me all about it. Do you enjoy it?” I just stared at her. Was this woman insane? She smiled and walked away from me. I was just a kid, after all. I didn’t know anything. *** “Emma, you’re losing weight.” I smiled at this comment. It was like an echo, rebounding off the lungs of every other passing student that took a moment of their time to look at me. For the first time in a while, I felt good. I felt genuinely good. It was only towards the end of the day, that I focussed less on the words, and more on the tone used to express them. Once I realised what their tones implied, my opinion dropped drastically. They sounded worried... Why were they worried? I looked...obese, before. I’m a lot better now. They shouldn’t be worried; they should be happy. But no. Nothing I do is ever good enough, is it? It’s either not enough, or far too much. It’s either ‘oh, Emma, do try harder,’ or ‘Emma, slow down!’ Why can’t I win? I never win. Never. With a swift swing of my arm, my fist collided with the glass violently. I growled beneath my breath, killing any words that tempted formation on my tongue. I could still hear it; it wouldn’t shut up. No matter what I did, I’d always be reminded of the voice. “Emma, you’re losing weight.” *** I stared upwards, and it stared back. I’d grown used to the silence that lay upon my room, and it no longer killed me to stay unspoken for some time. My mind had better things to work with other than my need for noise, for it had whittled away to barely anything at this point; the hole in my bedroom ceiling was enough for me to focus on. And so I did. I focussed on the hole in my bedroom ceiling. Small flashbacks haunted me when I closed my eyes; witnessing death right infront of me was something that I would consider hard to handle. She was a lovely lady, too. “Are you going to her funeral?” That question. Samantha just HAD to ask that question. “No.” “Oh, why not?” “Think about it.” “Uh, I like, can’t help but think about her funeral. It’s going all around the school; it’s such gossip.” “Think a little more.” “Look, you and I both know I should be blonde, so just tell me why you don’t wanna go!” I looked up at her. She was serious. Genuinely serious. Good god, this girl needed help. Once she caught my glare, she looked away. She got the point.
wrongwrongwrong. D: Correct :3
Dip your head into freezing water, and then into hot water. Rinse and repeat.
OMGOMGOMG Picchas, betch, or it didn't even happen. iluJakezy<3
A man is digging in a cave. He comes across a coin. The coin is brown, and rather rough-looking. It has 109 BC engraved into it, and a lot of dirt to accompany it. He takes the coin to a professional, and the professional claims it is a fake coin. How does he know this?
>> << *releases a herd of llamas* >> <<
Phase Three Running “Please don’t fight.” “We aren’t fighting, love.” “Then why did daddy hit you?” “He didn’t hit me, Emma.” “He did, mum. I saw him.” “Emma, shut up and go to bed.” He had hit her. I saw it with my young eyes. I saw it through the tears. The tears and the hurt. I saw it. He had his hand on her neck. She couldn’t breathe. I saw it. He was talking really angrily, through his closed teeth. I saw it. He took his hand and made a big fist with it. I saw it. He threw his fist at her face. Lots of times. I lost count. I saw it. I really saw it. *** I glanced downwards, feeling nausea take over my body as I examined the plate and its contents. “Eat up, love. It’s grilled chicken and homemade roast-potatoes... Just like grandma used to make.” My mom smiled as she dried one of the pots used to cook the slop infront of me. “Um... Thanks.” I swallowed, picking up my fork and prodding at a piece of chicken. My stomach let out a low growl, but certainly not from hunger. This crap was knocking me sick. I sighed, glancing towards Poppy. She lay on the floor beside my chair, her wet nostrils flaring at the scent of food. Her matted fur was short; ensuring that no leftover pieces of meat would grow tangled, and not leave clues my sly doings. “There’s a good dog...” I mumbled, throwing a piece of chicken breast to the floor. I carried out the same process with each piece of food on my plate, until all had vanished. “You ate that quickly.” “Well I’m sorry that I enjoyed the meal.” “Oh, come on. You’ve never eat so fast in your life!” “I was hungry.” “Of course you were.” “...Yeah, I was.” “Stop lying, Emma. You can’t fool me-” “-shut up. Just give that fucking mouth of yours a rest for once in your life.” The door made an acute snap as the hinges blew from the frame, sending the wood and metal handle soaring through the living room. I hate her. *** I opened my eyes, letting a swift breeze of air glide down my throat as I gasped. Those around me were also gasping, frozen in a silence beyond any other. The atmosphere held no tension, just stunning shock, and the inability to move. “Are you okay?” several others in the class chorused. They had already leapt from their seats, and arrived closely next to me. “What happened?” I mumbled my eyes wide with fright. “I don’t know. It happened too quickly to tell.” Samantha explained as she crumpled her face. “This doesn’t look good, guys. Go and get another teacher, quick.” “So, Emma, tell me again.” Mr Rochman, the deputy head, asked. “I don’t know, sir.” I replied again, for possibly the seventh time in a row. He sighed impatiently, looking at his clipboard with tired eyes. “You must know. You were in the middle of it.” “It happened too quickly.” “So you can’t remember anything?” “Not a thing.” “Well... what were you doing before it happened?” “...I was looking down at my page. I closed my eyes, and then, it all happened.” “What happened?” “...Well, She just dropped. On the floor. My teacher dropped dead in the classroom.”
Child's Play Oh, for fucks sake, Give me a fucking break. I’m sick of the fucking madness, And the drama you create. Oh, Jesus Christ, Shed me some goddamn light, I’m sick of trying to help you win, When you’re giving up the fight. Oh, dear lord, I’ve heard this bullshit before, I’m sick of the stupid words, That seem to spill when you drop your jaw. Oh, fucking hell. Let me into that protective shell, I’m sick of being on the outside, Lingering like a foul smell. Oh, Good god. This is ludicrous and odd, I’m sick of wrapping you in cotton wool, When you’re just ripping it all off. Let’s cut to the chase, Will you just look at my face, Do you think I look happy? Like I want to relate? I’m far from the beginning, love, And closer to the edge, Now shut up with your bullshit, Don’t give me the ‘I promise’ pledge, I’m walking away. From another tedious day. It’s fucking child’s play.
I might just have to check out your story. Although like yourself, I don't read other peoples work at all. I just can't muster the enthusiasm for...
I'm paranoid of people thinking that. Like, seriously paranoid of it. I assume it about everything, and I really must stop x] It's just a silly...
We do get snow. It's actually twice a year on average. February and late November. GET OUT MORE, ******. >:
Phase Two Pick Up “Have you seen her nose?” “No, what about it?” “It’s kinda weird...” “Who’s, Emma’s?” “Yeah...” “It’s big...” ... “Are you guys talking about me?” “What? No.” “You were, weren’t you?” “No, Emma. We wouldn’t talk about you.” Of course, they wouldn’t talk about me. Nobody talks about other people. They only whisper about other people. *** I let the plastic hover on my tongue, swallowing with an open mouth in preparation for my nightly routine. My mouth grew dry with each second that passed, my breath not helping as it dehydrated the innards of my oral cavity. 5...4...3...2...1... The plastic hit my throat. It came as more of a shock; the lack of lubrication the back of my tongue seemed to have made me want to push harder, to ensure I achieved what I wanted, but my excess strength proved to have the upper hand as I pushed a little too hard. I gagged. With tears streaming from them, my eyes squeezed tightly shut as I bent downwards to retch further into the bleach-lined basin. The splashes of water that rose from their resting place, spat sourly at my lips. I gritted my teeth, and moved my head to look away. My shaking hand managed to push downwards onto the silver button, and dispose of the repulsive sight. No food could comfort me more than knowing I will be thin tomorrow. ...Tomorrow never comes. *** “Today, we are going to talk about euthanasia.” The opening line that my Religious-Studies teacher executed told me immediately that this would be a slow lesson. I shuffled in my seat, adjusting my jacket sleeves so that I could grip them tightly in my fists; it was cold today, and I could all literally see my breath roll out into a fine mist before me. My feet were cold, huddled into my bag that sat slumped against my legs as I sat as still as possible without shaking. The incoherent comments that others made throughout the full lesson flew blissfully over my head as I scribbled on my page, drawing anything from complex diagrams of stickmen to little ninjas displaying their intricate skills of combat on the date and title. “Another term used by people to describe euthanasia is ‘assisted suicide.’” I felt my skin crawl at the word. My stomach melted, burning as I swallowed back a sigh that barely held itself in my lungs. I hated this topic. I hated it with a passion so ferocious; it could burn hell itself to cinders. “Are you okay?” A familiar voice chimed. I didn’t reply. It repeated. Over and over again, it repeated. I felt like I’d numbed to the core; my body embraced the closure that seemed to occur, and block any unwanted disturbances. “Oh my god, has she fainted?”
Aye, it's noticeable ;D I admire those who hide things well, but also those who talk well, too - and not just whining, but spilling their emotions...
I was thinking of 'Miss Sparkey' Buut... I was also just thinking of 'Emzy'
Correct you are ;3 I wanted to experiment with writing styles, so I thought a new take on a typical story would jazz things up a little. I'm glad you like my writing, and more chapters will be arriving soon. <3 I'm glad you like it, hun :3 I'll update as soon as I can. Thank you both for the lovely feedback <333
