Day 15:

A fanfic.

If You’re Under the Impression  by me.

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Eli held a gun directly in front of her between her two trembling, fair-skinned hands as Moonlight Sonata echoed falsely from the piano where my, now ex-, boyfriend rested his dead little head on the white piano keys as he winked at me. I looked back at Eli, fear fluttering in my head that felt the same as when you’re spinning on a one-roped swing too long and all the blood rushed to your head.

  “Laine, you little bitch. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you dead right here, right now.”

  Because we used to be best friends. Ever since I could remember, me and Eli patrolled the hallways of school together, arms linked. Because we used to try to make daisy chains together when we were in 5th grade, but never worked because we used dandelions. Maybe because we had things in common and talk on the phone for hours. Because the long silence between exchanging words wasn’t awkward. But I didn’t say that.

  I didn’t do anything, I said. What the hell are you trying to prove?

  Eli started laughing like if she was a maniac. Sobbing and cracking up. Happy and sad. How tragic. “You’re right. I’ll be the bad guy.” Her arms slowly dropped to her sides and backed up, still laughing like if life was a cruel joke. Wait, bad example. She laughed like if life was more than just a cruel joke, like if there was structure, and, oh how did she lose it. She abruptly backed into the wall. That’s when she pulled the gun up and tucked it under her jaw and she wasn’t laughing anymore. Just plain out crying. Too bad she won’t be making the cut, not a good enough actress. There we go. This is just a movie. A screen play, if you will. Tragedy. Drama. Oh, the humanity.

  Well let’s get this little film on the road.

  Eli pulled back the hammer and put her finger snuggly on the trigger.

  Lights.

  Her mascara ran down her porcelain-like skin as her lips curved downward as she sobbed, her red hair shinning in the morning sunlight.

  Camera.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the trigger, but I didn’t hear a noise. All I saw was red splattered against my nice white wall and I wondered how to get the stain out.

  And, and…

  Action.

  And that’s when I heard the blast.

///


“Describe yourself,” the tall, lanky man asked. A cigarette punched between his middle and index finger of his left hand, his teeth clenching it in place while he spoke. “In only one word.”

  I looked up and leaned my back against the wall. I only met this guy about an hour ago and he’s already asking for an explanation. I’ve fucked up bad in my life, but not this bad. I looked up at his auburn-colored hair and russet eyes with my eyes now adjusted. He lit a match in the darkness of the Manhattan alleyway. The coffee we just had churned in my empty stomach.

  Troubled, I said. Way too twisted for a pretty boy such as yourself.

  He took a long drag off his cigarette, down his esophagus and blackening his lungs. He blew it up towards the stars with his bottom lip, his eyes still locked with hers nonchalantly.

  “Give yourself a name.”

  Oh how I’ve yearned to give myself a name, one that isn’t my own. One that doesn’t have such a warped past. Laine, I said. My name is Laine.

  He nodded and took another puff of his cigarette, blowing it over his shoulder and held out his right hand, his left still wielding a cancer stick. “My name is William.” He took my hand into his big palm, his fingers warm to the touch but a chill ran down my back.

  I let go of his hand and asked, Now describe you in one word.

  He grinned and said, “Similar.”

  He finished his cigarette and dropped it on the ground, stepping on it with his foot.

///

  Here we have our two star actors. Striving for love, forever young. The painstaking heartbreak can be seen from afar. William doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into, and neither does Laine. How cute.

  He walked her back to her house in the dark, like a father walking his daughter to her room after she told him about the monsters she had discovered under the bed. But this girl’s memories of her father are a little less than pleasant. The city lights never stopped shining, yet darkness still casted its shadows. He walked up the steps of her house and she kindly said thank you and walked inside, leaving him out in the cold and alone to walk back to his apartment, which was oh-so conveniently located across town. His name is William Beckett. And her name was Laine Blousy. And they’re going to regret this.

///

By: Me.

http://myxchemicalxkiss.deviantart.com/art/If-Youre-Under-the-Impression1-127332546