|13 Minutes to Midnight
Author: andromeda311 PM
Rating for cursing and adult themes. ‘Sometimes, you’ll see her house and feel a faint desire to be her, so pure and sweet. You know that if you reached out, she’d save you. But you won’t reach out.’Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Tragedy - Words: 2,018 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 2 - Published: 11-19-05 - id: 2052018
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
You're in 6th grade, English class with Mrs. Hall, and it's almost Christmas, so there's nothing to do but play games. Mrs. Hall has always let you play Pictionary and Sorry! and other games like those when you aren't doing anything. You're playing Pictionary with three of your friends, people you've spent this whole year getting to know. For once in your life, you feel invincible and innocent, just playing an innocuous game with your friends.
You laugh as the most innocent of your friends mistakes your "rabbit" picture for the playboy bunny very loudly. The entire class is staring at her and she's turning bright red, but she's laughing right along with you.
It's the last time you can remember feeling so light.12 Minutes
This class is pointless, you think. You look over and see one of your friends, the same one who made the playboy bunny comment last year, asleep on the desk behind her. Mrs. Berger hasn't even noticed. On the other side of the classroom, the other two people you used to play Pictionary with are playing hangman and giggling uncontrollably.
Something's missing, you know, but you just can't put a finger on it.11 Minutes
They suspect that something's wrong, but you know they won't do anything about it. They're too nice, too sweet, too wonderful to confront you and tell you that you're really fucking up this time. Because they'd never use that language.
Except that some of them are, and somehow that makes you sad.10 Minutes
You're skipping school right now. You'll be missed in Algebra, but no one cares. Except maybe those two of your "innocent" friends who might worry about where you went, but they won't do anything, except maybe cover for you, say you're sick.
You knew there was a reason you were still civil to them.9 Minutes
You finish off the vodka and try to remember if you're supposed to go to school tomorrow or not. You give up, deciding that it doesn't matter, you're failing Algebra and English anyway. No one will notice if you don't show up.
It's sickening, almost. Though that might be because you just drank half a bottle of vodka in 20 minutes.8 Minutes
Something about that startles you. It seems like you're not the only one who's changed. She used to never just walk away because she knew you were in there, she used to wait for you to come out so she wouldn't have to walk to school alone.
You wonder if she'll walk away like this for good sometime soon.7 Minutes
You're innocent friend seems to be speaking to you only because she has to. She's obviously tired of worrying about you, tired of being nice to you, tired of reaching out to try and save you. A very small part of you wants to take her hand and be like her, innocent and clean.
You shake it off and go back to daydreaming about the weed you've got hidden under your mattress.6 Minutes
Somewhere deep down, though, you feel guilty. He was her boyfriend, after all. Your innocent "friend" looks up at you when you walk into Geometry and doesn't ask about your black eye. So she already knows. And she doesn't do anything or say anything.
And you expected her to, which makes that lack of care almost infuriating.5 Minutes
You've got better things to do, and this is one of them. It feels so much better to stand here and get high than it did to sit in that classroom anyway. No one, not even Little Miss Innocent, will care or do anything. It's time for you take control of your own life.
You vaguely wonder if you have any control now.4 Minutes
It's fine, you know. All you have to do is keep getting high and life feels good. Who cares that you probably don't have a future? Who cares that your friends might be worried, or worse, pissed off? Who cares that you could get pregnant or some STD any day now? It's all good.
Somewhere deep down, you know that if you'd been really sober, it wouldn't feel so great.3 Minutes
It's in her eyes, though. She doesn't believe you, or, if she does, she thinks that it's only a matter of time. You want to tell her to fuck off and leave you alone, but you've never been able to say that to her, and you've never understood why.
Maybe it's because you know she would.
It's been three years, and you haven't seen Little Miss Innocent since she asked you if you were pregnant, even though she lives two streets down. You know she's going to make it in life, she's got the brains, the heart, and the willpower to succeed. You're not just smoking weed anymore, now you've taken to Heroin and Cocaine. It still feels good.
Every now and then, though, you'll catch a glimpse of her house from the end of your street, and you feel a faint desire to be her, so pure and sweet. Somehow, you know that if you reached out, she'd still take your hand and save you. God, she's a fucking saint, she's always been. But you won't reach out. You're too deep for her to reach and save you.
Or so you tell yourself.1 Minute
You can almost hear her voice, telling you that you really don't need them, but she's made a name for herself, you've heard it. She's a writer, just like you knew she'd be, and everyone harps on about her wonderful skills and how great a person she is. You know it's only a matter of time, and you can almost see it.
You'll be there, under some light, and she'll walk up. They'll tell her what happened to you, whatever drug you overdosed on, or whatever you did that caused someone else to shoot you, and she'll say "yeah, that's her" and they'll put a sheet over your head and you'll hear their voices from far away, asking why she doesn't look sad, and if she's surprised. You can hear her answer, even now. You know what she'll say, that she isn't surprised, because she saw this coming, and she's been watching it come since 8th grade, always reaching out, ready to save you, but your damn pride wouldn't let you take her hand.
You inject more of the Heroin into your arm, knowing it'll kill you. You hope it's soon.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. That's definitely her."
"You don't look surprised."