Author: CarpeVitam PM
This beautiful gift dropped in my lap, and I picked it up. It felt sort of cold in my hand, but it got warmer. It got hot, actually... (Marilyn gets a gun)Rated: Fiction M - English - Hurt/Comfort - Words: 396 - Published: 08-18-08 - Status: Complete - id: 2560723
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
BAD SIM -incomplete
I spent three hours washing the bastard's blood out of my hair. If Id'a known there was gonna be such projection I'd have worn a hat. At least that, I could have burned.
With Arty, I gave him one in the chest. So he could see me when he died. Know everything he never appreciated and respected. I accepted his God as mine, though they're all the same anyway. Still, he could've appreciated me more. Instead of just using me for inspiration. I guess that's the trouble with being a man's muse. Or anyone's muse really.
I said I wanted to meet him. In case you were wondering what would make him wanna talk to me. So I told him maybe I was pregnant, we met somewhere, I pulled it out, squeezed, and that was all she wrote. He looked really surprised when he saw it. I almost didn't do it. But then he smiled, like it was funny or something. And I blew him a kiss, then pow! Two slugs in the heart.
Anyway, with Daddy it was different. I was at closer range, but he never saw it coming. See, I wanted to be near him, but I didn't want to see him. I didn't think I deserved to look him in the eye when he died. That seemed like taking too many privileges. It's probably crazy, right? Ya know, I gave the man as much of my love as possible for a girl like me, and it still didn't feel good enough. Though, I always did feel not good enough in general. That's what happens when you have nothing all your life and suddenly this beautiful gift just falls in your lap. What do you do? You take it.
That's how I got here. How I got so free. So much, without dead weight. This beautiful gift dropped in my lap, and I picked it up. It felt sort of cold in my hand, but it got warmer. It got hot, actually. That was after I squeezed it though. Ya know, nobody ever takes me seriously. Arty especially. I was just a toy to him. Some cute blonde bimbo he could hang on his arm like a coat on a hanger. Like an accessory. I threatened his life and somehow I was still a joke. I guess, now I'm laughing.