(a snippet of my newest project – steal this & I will come after you.)
Her fingers flicker and the cigarette quivers, a delicate toy for her hands to crush. Her mouth kisses the stick, puckering up to inhale the chemicals – willing those chemicals to go inside her body to destroy her cells.
“Mom will find out sooner or later.” The voice is soft, but uneven, new to puberty and she scowls at the sound.
“She won’t if you keep your mouth shut.” The puffy white smoke from her cigarette curls itself in the air, briefly blurring the sunset in the distance. She exhales, and automatically feels better.
He lingers behind her for a while, awkward and silent before he lumbers off, his footsteps fading until she hears the door shut. The grasshoppers are starting to come out now, and it’s time for her to go inside before her parents arrive home.
It’s routine – too routine. When her parents get home, she’ll be studying in her room, studying for her Advanced Placement exams, writing her essays, and previewing the chapters they haven’t gone over yet.
Her teeth will be white and perfect and blinding when she smiles, and the surgically altered appearances of her nose and eyes make her beautiful. Her parents will be so proud of her, their lovely bookworm daughter who is destined for success. She will smell nothing like the gritty, ashy taste of cigarette smoke in the air.
The shriveled stick crumples easily under her sandals, and she smiles bitterly; only a depressed fool would find her life and death relatable to that of a cigarette.
////
“No. 284302, please.”
She gets up, hesitant and slow, but he beckons toward her impatiently, and she stumbles forward. He reads her name out loud and she nods, unsure for the first time in forever.
“Death by gun, eh? Well, at least you had guts,” the stranger says as he begins perusing through her papers. “Most others would’ve chosen pills in your situation.”
She opens her mouth to ask him – what is this place? why am I here? what does this mean? – “How do you know?”
He looks at her with a look not far from pity. “I’m not human, therefore it took me a while to understand how your minds worked. But I’ve been here for centuries now and I’ve discovered that your kind is incessantly predictable.”
She frowns at him before she knows what she’s doing and he laughs a bit, amused. “I can see you’re not happy with my answer. But you’re the type that always searches to break out, right? Never satisfied with what you’re given?”
She considers his answer for a while, before, “I guess so.”
He smiles at her and she’s troubled by the sheer sincerity by it; he’s truly not human. “I hope you do well here, then. If any one type deserves a second chance, it’s your kind. Good luck.”
