Chapter 1: Willow’s POV

I awoke to a very annoying and persistent beep. I opened my eyes into tiny slits, and waited… The annoying sound had perished, I had won with shear will power. ‘That usually never works, I told you I could do it, stupid bitch!’ I thought to the alarm clock.

But then, something horrible happened… The beeping started up again. After a while of the inconsistent, yet consistent beeping, my arm snaked its way from under my warm covers to the harsh outside world. My hand stopped to shiver at the sudden chills. Once it was over the alarm clock, my hand fisted and slammed down on the stupid device. ‘I will hunt down the bastard that thought it was a good idea to come up with a fucking alarm clock, the bastard that invented the damn thing, and the bastard that patented it, and stab them all, repeated, with a toothpick. Then I will squeeze their throats and watch as the blood spurts out of the tiny holes and laugh manically… Wow, such morbid thoughts so early in the morning…it’s gonna be a good day.’ My hand snaked back under the covers, and my mouth sighed for it, my whole body engulfed in warmth, once again.

Even though I had just smashed my alarm clock, it still had the audacity to continue is beeping. My other arm, to keep it even – OCD, here – did exactly what the other did. ‘Now, my alarm clock is mutilated. It shall never ring again. Muahahahaha! Muahahahahahahahaha!!! Muahahahahaha--’

My mental evil laugh was interrupted by the beeping. ‘Aw, heeeeeeeell naw. It’s on, bitch! You’re going to regret the day you were made!’ I threw the covers off me and sat up. I reached over for the fucking bitch. I used both hands to yank the bitch’s cord out of the socket, I was not going to apologize for ruining her moment, and chucked it across the room, all the way in the corner. I sighed in content.

But then, the beeping kept going. By now, I was convinced it wasn’t the alarm clock bitch. So, I threw the covers off me, again, where they had, magically on their own, crawled back up my stomach over my head to encase me in the cocoon of delightful warmth. I hefted my feet over the edge of the bed, and slowly stood up. I had a sudden dizzy spell and sat back down. I pushed my lazy ass of the edge of the bed and placed it on the ground and started stretching like a cat, until I felt every bone in my back pop. ‘Oh yeah… That’s the shit right there.’ Once I finished my daily morning stretch, I crawled over to Mr. Bunny. I picked him up, his head falling back limply, and stared at the seams, checking if I had to re-stitch any of them. He looked pretty intact and ready to face the day with me. I looked at myself in the mirror.

My hair sticking up at weird angles that defied gravity, my eyes half-closed and blood-shot, my skin on the paler side of healthy. ‘Stupid immune system, always acting up at the turn of the season… And it’s summer!!! Ugh!!! Stupid body of mine, why you no like me?!?!?!’ I quickly got over think-yelling at my reflection and turned to make my way downstairs. ‘Time to find out whatever wishes to die today. That thing woke me up from my peaceful dream!!! It’s asking to be murdered – I mean, accidentally fall in front of an chain saw that just happened to be on… … … Mr. Bunny did it!!! I swear… Oh, shut the fuck up you stupid bastard, with your cute little suit and fluffy tail and ears… I’m getting off topic, Oh, shut the fuck up you stupid bastard!!!’ (And yes, I talk to my stuffed animal through my head, we just have a connection like that, don’t judge me!!!)

Anyway, I looked back at my reflection to assess my clothes. My pajama bottoms, ones with little kitties all over, were twisted around at a very uncomfortable angle, my tank top pulled far too low for my comfort, showing too much of my neon green sports bra. ‘Ugh, why can’t I go to sleep looking okay and wake up looking the same way? I look like I went through a tornado in the middle of the night. God!’ … I shrugged my shoulders and continued on with what I – I mean, what Mr. Bunny was going to do. *cough cough*

I made my way down the stairs. Me and my smooth self, tripped over the second step and, quite ungracefully, fell down the stairs. Once I hit rock bottom, I thought ‘Though I don’t think there is a graceful way to fall down the stairs. Hmm… New life goal: Find a way to fall down the stairs gracefully. Noted and stored.’ I furrowed my brow, thinking back to my alarm clock, ‘Shouldn’t I be calling my alarm clock a bastard and not a bitch. I mean, it’s the one with the plug, meaning… I think I get the idea. If it had a socket, then it would be a bitch… You know what Self? What? I think I’m just going to call it a motherfucker, that’s unisexual. Yeah, the alarm clock is now a motherfucker.’ I smiled and nodded my head, quite awkwardly since I was still on the floor with my feet on top of my head. I placed my hands, palms down, on the floor, and slowly lifted my body off the ground. I straightened my legs out and brought them forward, bringing my body with them – gymnastics really was useful for something. I turned around and bent down to pick up Mr. Bunny.

I walked into the kitchen, as if I didn’t just fall down a flight, a really long flight, of stairs. I stopped in the doorway, my jaw to the floor, my eyes bugging out of my skull… ‘… … …’

“What the…? How the…? Why in the…? … … … HUH?” I had nothing to say. There was food EVERYWHERE! There was food on the table, the counter, and the island; the floor, the walls, and the ceiling; the windows, the fridge, and the culprits. I narrowed my eyes into slits, “What in the FUCK did you IDIOTS do NOW?!?!?!”

“Weeeeeell, ya see…” QB, a.k.a. Quadruple B a.k.a. Big Bad Brother Brian a.k.a. my idiot brother, said. Ugh, the dumbass totally messed up my kitchen. ‘This is why I tell those idiots to stay the fuck away from my domain: the kitchen, the dining room (unless we have company for dinner), the master bedroom suite a.k.a. my room, and the office a.k.a. MY office.’

“They were just trying to be nice…?” Toto, a.k.a. Christopher a.k.a. my best friend, said. He stood over by the corner, the fridge shielding him from further damage to his favorite jeans. ‘He is soooooo lucky that I like him, or he would be dead, like these two are going to be; instead, I’ll beat him within an inch of his life.’

“Calm down, bitch. It’s not like we fucking burned the damn house down,” Connor, a.k.a. my best enemy, said, his eyes narrowed at my pouty face. I don’t understand why people say their “worst enemy” when that person obviously puts up a challenge for them, so instead, I say my “best enemy”. And rightfully so. One time, he came to wake me up, and I wouldn’t. So you know what he did? He brought in dirt from the yard and laid it down right by my bed, poured water on it to turn it to mud, and tied a bucket of cold water to my wrist for when I move. I am sad to say that it worked. I moved my arm and was drenched in cold water, I threw the covers off me and made to destroy him, but of course, I couldn’t because of all the mud at the side of my bed. By the time I got downstairs to kill him, I was shivering from the cold water, coated in a thick layer of mud, had fallen down repeatedly on the second floor, fallen down the stairs, and fallen down a few times on the first floor, before finally coming to the family room, where him and the ENTIRE football team were. They didn’t let it go for about a month. But I coated his new car, inside and out, in mud, so I got even.

Anyway, I walked into the kitchen, careful not to step on any of the food until I stood in the middle of it. I took a deep breath through my nose and let it out through my mouth… I counted to ten… I counted to ten, again… I took another deep breath through my nose and let it out back through my nose, my anger only climbing as I continued to look at the mess. I pointed a shaking hand to the door, “Get… Out… NOW!!!” Toto left with his head down, QB with a pleading look on his face, Connor with a smirk. A goddamn SMIRK! The motherfucker…

Brief Change of POV: Brian

I had just settled down on the floor of the living room when I heard her scream. I felt even worse. I mean, I knew not to go into the kitchen, but I was just trying to do something nice for her. Ya know, give her a day off of taking care of us. Us taking care of her, for a change. I hung my head, I fucked up big time. I squeezed my eyes tight as she let out another ear-piercing scream.

Original POV: Willow

Once they were gone, I opened my mouth to let out a sigh, but a scream came out instead. I let it ring through the house before thoughts started coming through my mind. ‘I know they heard me – I’m sure the whole neighborhood heard – and they better feel bad for what they did. I don’t care if I was acting like a three-year-old, screaming because someone broke a toy of mine. I don’t care if I’m twenty-two acting immature. I feel like I’m seeing my first horror movie all over again.’ I opened my eyes slowly, a squeak coming out of my mouth at the destruction that I was going to have to clean up. I let out another glass-shattering scream. ‘And I thought it was going to be a good day,’ I thought, shaking my head. ‘I should’ve known when I first knew it was the fire alarm.’

I walked out the kitchen, going to the supply closet that was right as the end of the hall, by the stairs. I opened the door and pulled out rags, clorox, windex, stainless steel cleaner, fabuloso, a mop, a bucket, and a broom. I hefted everything into the doorway of the kitchen and got down on hands and knees and scrubbed, just like Cinderella, albeit a more tomboy-ish version.

It had been 8:30 when I went down there, and I was crawling, literally, into my room at – I looked over at my nightstand for my alarm clock. It wasn’t there. I remembered I threw it into the corner of the room. I looked at it, hoping by some miracle that it was still working. It was in pieces, with bits sticking out here and there. I looked back at my nightstand and spotted my phone. I continued to crawl forward, reaching my phone. I flipped up the cover, and looked down at the time, 11:45. My friends are coming over in fifteen minutes. I flopped down on my butt, my legs underneath me, and looked at the mirror. My hair was still defying gravity, my were even redder – if that’s possible, my skin was flush from working on the kitchen, my pajama bottoms – still twisted in a very uncomfortable angle – were rolled up past my knees, my shirt even lower and twisted to the side of my body. Everywhere had food somewhere. And to top it off, I still hadn’t showered.

Being the lazy ass I was, I dialed the house phone from my cell. It rang and rang and rang – it rang so much I was tempted to answer it myself, but that would be pointless. Finally, someone picked up, “What do you want, bitch?” an annoyed Conner asked.

“I’m calling to tell you that I am going to shower. My friends are coming over it,” I paused as I looked down at the time, “ten minutes. If I’m not out by then, please let them in. And be nice… And don’t rape them. Please relay the message to Toto and QB. Thank you.” Before he could even get a word in, I hung up the phone and crawled over to my closet, looking for clothes to wear. I couldn’t see anything but my shoes from the floor, so I slooooooowly stood up – so slowly, a turtle could’ve beat me if it were a race.

Once I was on my feet, I pulled out the top drawer – I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I thought it would’ve been easier to have all my clothes in one place, so I had QB build drawers into the closet and nail a shoe rack in for, obviously, my shoes – and pulled out: a bra, a sports bra, underwear, some short biker’s shorts, boxers I stole from… Toto I think, and a wife beater. I pulled out the second drawer and pulled out a tight short-sleeved black shirt that stopped right above my belly button. When I pulled that out, I opened the top drawer back up and put the wife beater back in. Lastly, I opened the last drawer and pulled out some long cargo pants that fit tight around my hips but were baggy everywhere else. I went back into the top drawer and pulled out some black “No Nonsense” socks. I looked at my shoe rack and grabbed my black converse.

I left my shoes and socks by my bed but brought everything else with me into the bathroom. I turned the shower on and let the water run. I looked at myself in the mirror before the fog shielded my vision, like I always did before I showered. I looked at my cherry red hair that went down to the top of my butt – well, it used to be flaming red. My mom likes to say I “destroyed my beautiful locks” that looked so much like hers, but I just died it. I left the top red, but died the bottom a bright orange with hot pink streak. ‘I actually like my hair mother, and that’s the only opinion that matters,’ I thought with a sharp nod of my head, my eyebrows furrowed. I looked at my amber eyes, tilting my head to the side, smiling as the gold flecks caught in the light. I looked at my petite nose, freckles splattered over the bridge of it, and my full, red lips. I stepped back and looked at my figure. I was slim in the waist, but had… a lot of me at the hips and breasts. I looked down the length of my long legs and wiggled my toes, I giggled at the silliness of toes.

I looked back at the mirror but couldn’t see anything, fog in my way. So I turned and hopped in the shower. I looked at my selection of shampoo and body wash. Use the men’s 3-in-1 body wash and smell like a dude, or use the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash for women and smell like flowers. Being the lazy person I am, the choice was easy. The 3-in-1, hands down.

After stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my wet hair, and dried my body off. I lotion-ed up and clothed. I looked at my reflection and smiled. ‘Teeth. Brush those things,’ I thought to myself, scrunching my nose up and looking away. After brushing my teeth, I let my hair down and blew it out. I straightened it and looked back at my reflection. I don’t wear that much make-up, I was lazy and I didn’t have pimples to cover up. I leaned into the mirror, lips puckered and applied and thick coat of clear lip gloss. I closed one eye, applied a thick line of eye liner and mascara to my long eye lashes. I did the same to the other eye.

I walked out and turned my back to the door, leaning down to put my shoes and socks on again, hoping that no one would walk in while I bent over. But me and my jinxing mouth, just haaaaad to say that right when my door was pushed open, “Hey, your…” Connor’s words trailed off as he caught sight of my underwear.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhm… … … Well, this is awkward… … …” I said as an attempt to break the tension, but only created more.

“Why the fuck are you wearing my boxers?” Connor asked, his face red with rage.

“Oh, these were yours? Huh, I guess you learn something new every day,” I said, dead serious.

“Take them off… Take them off, right the FUCK now!”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, take my fucking boxers off, right now,” he said slowly, as if I were a child that refused to understand something.

“Hell no! I’m wearing them, and am not about to take them off. So you can get over yourself,” I said harshly as I tried to brush past him.

But he caught me roughly by the arm and pushed me up against the wall, “Take them off, now, or I will take them off for you.”

I shoved against his chest, vaguely noting that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and was slightly wet, ‘He must of just gotten out of the shower,’ I thought stupidly. I didn’t say anything, so he must have taken that as the cue to take the boxers off me himself, because next thing I know, he’s unbuttoning my pants. I push against his chest harder, trying to get the bastard off me, but he wouldn’t budge, “Damn giant, get the fuck off me before I scream rape,” I threatened, glaring at his hateful ass.

He chuckled at me – he CHUCKLED at ME, damn bastard – and put a hand over my mouth just as my pants hit the floor. My eyes widened as he reached for the boxers just as Toto, QB, Alice Fay Johnson, Christina Bloom Sanders, and Carter Blake Sanders rounded the corner. Connor and I looked over at them… They looked at us… and started laughing. I got mad, “Don’t just stand there laughing! Get this giant off me before he rapes me!”

At the word “rape”, QB, being the over-protective brute that he is, stopped laughing and tackled Connor, sadly bringing me with them. So, instead of being squished up between a wall of plaster and muscle, I was now sandwiched in between two walls of muscle. Toto, Ali (Alice Fay), Chris (Christina Bloom) and Blake (Carter Blake) started laughing harder. I sighed in frustration as QB started lecturing Connor on sexual harassment and shit. I would’ve laughed with my friends – the look on Connor’s face was priceless – but I was still sandwiched between the two bastards… and losing air quick.

Five minutes of lecturing, and five minutes of slowly dying, QB finally got off me – and Connor – and I gulped down a big swallow of air – my face probably have gone purple – and rolled off Connor, quickly standing up to pull my pants back up. My friends, the great people that they were, just stood off to the side laughing their asses off. ‘Buttwipes!’ I yelled at them through my mind.

Connor, being the asshole that he is, not letting the boxers go, said, “I WILL get my boxers back, whether you like it or not,” snarling at me like the savage that he was.

“BOXERS?!?!?!” Toto but in. “That’s what this was all about? Boxers?” After saying this, everyone – except Connor and me – started laughing all over again.

I got pissed at them, so I stormed away. Unfortunately for me, so did Connor. We both stormed into the kitchen, fuming at my idiotic friends and brother, and reached for the fridge. He pulled it open and I crawled underneath his arm and grabbed two apple juices, handing one to him as I struggled with my cap. He set his down and helped me open mine, I smiled a bright smile at him and gulped down half the bottle. I smiled at him and licked my lips.

I heard laughter from the doorway. Chris and Blake were rolling around on the floor, holding their sides and tears streaming down their faces; Ali leaning against Toto, her face flushed a dark pink, his lips pressed tightly together to keep his laugh inside; QB on his knees, his body shaking from laughter, and shaking his head from side to side. I looked at Connor in confusion; he looked at them with a smirk on his lips… amusement in his eyes. I looked back at them and tilted my head to the side, furrowing my brow.

“Is it always like this?” Ali asked, finally controlling her giggles. Toto just nodded his head, his eyes closed, trying hard to stop from laughing.

“Always like what?” I asked, tilting my head to the other side.

“You two get into an argument, start to get physical, your brother gets in the middle of it and gives a lecture, and then you two storm off into the kitchen to get apple juice and act like the argument never happened,” Chris answered. I tilted my head back to the other side and shook my head, still confused.

“Whatever, I don’t wanna hang out with you people anymore… Go home,” I huffed in annoyance. Ali, Chris, and Blake immediately stopped laughing and started begging to stay over.

I reluctantly gave in and let them stay the night. All afternoon, we played video games – well, Blake and Ali played video games, while Chris flirted with my brother… disgusting, Connor and Toto were tossing a football between the two couches, and I was in a corner, by the TV, and read a book that Ali brought for me.

I looked up from my book and looked at each of them. Ali was 22 and 5’9 with sky blue eyes and midnight black hair that was almost blue. Her caramel skin, because she was Mexican American, glowing in the sunlight. Her camera, because she was really into photography, glinted in my eyes. Her bruised knuckles standing out against her caramel tone. Her dark clothes, because she was a semi-goth, semi-nerd, pressed. Her hair slightly wet, from her early morning surf. She threw sarcastic remarks at Blake, her boyfriend, as he kept bragging to her about beating her.

Blake was 24 and 6’3 with blue-green eyes and tight black curls. His father had Blake, with some white woman that no one has any idea about, before he met Chris’s mother and married her. He was being his usual loud self and being amused by Ali’s sarcastic remarks to his bragging. He lost a life when he started to tear up, Ali paused the game and tried comforting him, “Baby, why don’t we save the game and play ‘Truth Or Dare’?” Blake immediately broke into a smile, his eyes crinkling with joy. Water dripped onto his nose then – him going cross-eyed to look at it while Ali laughed at his face – telling me that he had gone surfing before he came here.

Chris was 22 and 5’6 with chocolate brown eyes and hair, her skin chocolate brown legs tight and toned from all the practice to be a pole-dancer and from dancing around my house. She was acting cocky, as usual, as she got my brother to drool over them. When she heard that Ali and Blake were getting off the Wii, she jumped at the chance, “I wanna watch Colombiana… or Salt… or the Mask of Zorro… Hmm…,” she said, her love for movies making her indecisive. As Connor and QB began to argue about whether to watch Colombiana or Salt, so she interrupted and said, “Okay, so it’s decided… We’ll be watching Mask of Zorro.” They both groaned.

Toto was 26 and 6’8 with gray-green eyes and flaming red hair that stood out against his pale white porcelain skin. He laughed at Connor and QB with his scary ass self. He started telling them shit, being sarcastic, about how they were getting pushed around by such a tiny girl. ‘Ugh, you jackass, you better be lucky I love you, or I would tell all of them that you’re gay… Damn, sex-addicted prostitute-in-the-making,’ I thought to myself, narrowing my eyes at him.

QB was 26 and 6’9 with bright amber eyes and shoulder-length auburn hair. Him and his nasty self was a man-whore, dating all sluts – I’m surprised he doesn’t have AIDS, yet. I saw him making out with Chris. Chris must’ve been in heaven, but he was only doing it to play with her tongue ring – him and his nasty fetish. ‘I swear, if you hurt my Chris, I will kick you smart ass and shitty attitude into next month. And then I’ll kick your ass again if you start to criticize me for it,’ I thought to him evilly. Suddenly he shuddered, probably feeling my evil glare. ‘Muahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!’

Connor was 25 and 6’10 with storm gray eyes and dark brown hair, he was almost as dark as me from working out in the sun in his boxers. ‘Which happen to be the ones I’m wearing… Maybe that’s why he hasn’t been out exercising lately, because he lost his exercise boxers… Hmm… interesting…,’ I thought to myself. He had left when Chris had put in the Mask of Zorro, probably to go work on his motorcycle or to skateboard around the neighborhood or to pick up his slut of a girlfriend, Jade. Normally, the only emotion that he shows his anger, you’d think that he wouldn’t have as many friends as he did. And we are constantly getting into fights, physical or verbal, especially with his short temper.

‘Speak of the Devil, and she shall come,’ I thought as Jade walked in, Connor’s hand around her waist. ‘Bitch.’ She was 22 and 5’4 with seaweed green eyes and dirty blonde hair that went down to the middle of her back. You’d think, with her being into anime and manga, drawing and painting, and being sweet and bubbly, and having paint somewhere on all the tight clothes that she wears, she and I would be friends. Weeeeeell, we used to be friends, until she slept with the captain of the football team and all of a sudden she’s sleeping with every guy on the football team, including Toto – when he wasn’t gay, but she was the reason he turned.

Anyway, I looked back down to my book when Connor and Jade started making out. It felt like seconds, but when I looked back up, it was dark outside. Jade had left; Connor, QB, and Chris were watching Salt; and Ali and Blake were making out, rolling around on the floor. I had a dead arse, so I went to go sit on the couch, but landed on someone’s boney knees. I looked behind me and looked into Chris’s face. I sat there, staring at her staring at me. Chris broke our staring contest by starting to chant, “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.”

I looked over at him and flipped him off, “Shut the fuck up, whore.”

“Who are you calling a whore, bitch?”

“You, jackass.”

“I don’t think so, tramp.”

“I do, slut,” I went too far… but I don’t care? I looked Connor in the eye, mine widened. I jumped off Chris and made to run away, but he tackled me to the ground before I could take my second step. I started squirming around, trying to get out from under him. Somehow, he managed to flip me over and started tickling me. He knew that if you tickle me for long enough, I start to – and I am so embarrassed to say this – pee. I screamed bloody murder, “Get off me… You big oaf… AHHHHHHHHH!!! S – s – stooooooop!”

“What the fuck is going on, here?!” I looked up at Jade. ‘Uh oh.’

“Hey, babe,” Connor said, trying to get off me, but me thrashing around got his zipper caught on my pocket… somehow.

“Don’t ‘Hey, babe’ me, when you’re sitting on top of another girl…” she snapped. After a while of the two of them staring at each other, she burst, “Are you going to get off of her, or not?!”

“I can’t, babe,” Connor mumbled.

She looked shocked, taken aback even, “Are you cheating on me?” she asked deathly calm.

“Of course he’s not cheating on you, slut,” I said rolling my eyes, my voice full of sarcasm even though I was telling her the truth.

“Fine! If you’re going to cheat on me right in front of me, then… I’m cheating on you, too!” We all looked at her like she was insane.

“Are you fucking KIDDING ME?!?!?!” Connor roared.

Jade looked terrified. I looked at Connor and my eyes widened. He looked like he was about to murder her. Not thinking, I grabbed the side of his face so that he was looking at me, “Calm down,” I made myself calm, soothing, comforting. His eyes softened, Jade let out a shaky sigh and ran out the front door, everybody else looked at me in shock.

“Can one of you get me some scissors?” I asked, looking over to the five of them. Ali jumped up and ran out the room.

After a moment of silence, Chris asked, “How the fuck did you do that?!” I looked at her confused. She saw my face and elaborated, “Calmed him down like that. How’d you do that?”

I looked at Connor and furrowed my brows. I looked back to Chris, “I have no fucking idea,” I said shaking my head. Then, Ali walked back in, scissors in hand. After giving them to me, I clipped the string that attached his zipper to my pocket. I handed the scissors back to Ali, then she left again, to put them away. Connor got off me, his face red, and walked out of the room. After a few minutes, I heard things crashing around. I jumped off the couch and ran upstairs into his room. Shards of mirror and glass littered the floor, pictures by walls instead of on them, his lamp on the floor by the desk, and he was repeatedly throwing a tennis ball at the wall, a dent already on it from the force of his throws.

I walked towards him, cutting my feet in the process, and hugged him from behind. He turned around in my grasp and hugged me back, holding on tightly. I walked backwards, towards his bed, and laid back on it. He buried his head in my shoulder, squeezing his arms even tighter. ‘I guess he really did like her… Huh, who would’ve thought?’ Throughout the whole night, I stroked his hair, trying my hardest to keep him calm. He fell asleep around 11:30; I, on the other hand, didn’t close my eyes until 1:15.

Impressum

Texte: KittyKat5.0
Bildmaterialien: Google Images
Lektorat: KittyKat5.0
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 06.07.2012

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