Killer Smile

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A Story


Hello,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?” She didn’t want to know.

“Same thing as you.” Smart ass. Thief.

“Whatever that is.”

“Oh, you do know, don’t you?”

“Know what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why do you ask?”

“Nothing. Everything. Life, death. If you must ask.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.” Things were getting ugly.

“Oh you must, now, must you.” Why did this have to go on and on? Forever and ever?

She smiled. “What do you really want?”

“Want from what? You? Nothing. The world? Everything I suppose. But, then again, doesn’t everyone?” Finally, a sentence maybe worth listening to. Or not.

“I don’t ask anything of the world. I don’t ask anything from anyone.” Bullshit, she told herself.

“Bullshit.” Now he was telling her too. Wonderful. The maraschino cherry on what had already been quite a shitty day. Now was not the time for people do start calling her bluffs, her sadness under the smiles, under the make up. Now the sleeves were being pulled back, revealing not only the fresh blood, but the scabs that kept being ripped open again, and the scars that would haunt her for years and years to come.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Go away. Move away. Travel. Get out of her life for a goddamn twenty seconds, without plopping into her thoughts or plopping right in front of her.

“Why do you want me to?”

“Fuck you.” She tried to glare. She really, honestly, truly did. But, like most other things of recent, she failed.

“Why don’t you stop your bullshit? There you go again.” She wanted to kill him. How dare he? He couldn’t do that. There were rules about these sorts of things. Then again, he’d never had much of a regard for rules. He didn’t even bother to know them, he was a master at breaking them anyway. She wanted to break him. To make him feel guilty. For once. After all of his shit, well she just couldn’t take it. Okay, maybe guilt wouldn’t be realistic, but just to make him feel, anything, to think his own individual thought for once in his insignificant life would be an improvement. She wanted to cry. Why couldn’t she do this? What was wrong with her? She was alone. She reached for her arm.

“Not that shit again. You told me you’d stopped.” He pulled out a cigarette from his back pocket, and a lighter from his jacket.

“You haven’t changed much either.”

“Seasons change. The weather changes. That’s about it.”


“Fuck you too.”


Lemme know what you think.



Trackbacks & Pingbacks


  1. * Anonymous says:

    This is AWSOME. I LOVE IT

    | Reply Posted 11 years, 2 months ago
  2. Thanks :)

    | Reply Posted 11 years, 2 months ago

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