Jess (part 2)

He turned around, to be met with the familiar dark haired girl beaming at him with those unforgettable pearly whites.

'How have you been?' Jess asked, walking closer.

Pete felt his heart stop in it's tracks. Her face almost looked the same as the day she left, she was still smiling, still gorgeous. Except he couldn't deny that he felt his heart wrench for all the nights he spent alone missing her. Wishing she would be here.

Luck never seemed to be on his side though, as this moment he had so highly anticipated came at the worst possible time.

'WHY NOW?' screamed his head, raging at just his luck.

Again, Pete was knocked back into his senses with the laugher of the two girls.

'You know, Pete was always like this, just daydreaming all the time,' said Jess, speaking to Chloe.

'So how'd you deal with that? Look,he still looks stunned to see you. Should I be jelous?' laughed Chloe, looking at Pete.

Pete was dumbfounded. This was nothing like he had expected. Not the type of meeting, not the type of conversation. Where was the bitchfighting and hairpulling over him? Instead, his two loved ones were now joking about him.

'I'm still here you know,' grunted Pete in dismay. His perfect day now felt ruined.

Chloe laughed once more whilst saying,'Babe, we should check in for our plane,' gently.

Pete nodded dumbly, acting like a complete stoner. Despite him having so much to say to Jess, so many questions, so much emotion, right now... all he felt was nothing.

He couldn't find the right words for anything, so instead, he just briefly mumbled to Jess saying "Nice to see you again" before starting to walk off.

It wasn't before Jess got the upper hand once again, as she quickly slipped him a note in his palm.

"Don't forget to call!" she shouted as he already started walking away.

..................................................................................

During the whole plane ride, Pete kept thinking about the stupid meeting that he just had with Jess.

He felt so stupid, just standing there doing nothing. He felt like he had just stepped back into the shoes of the high-school boy he had once been, shy, quiet and unnoticed.

Chloe was asleep next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

There was another 6 hours on the plane, and with nothing to do, Pete knew that his thoughts would eventually trail back to the dark-haired girl who was once his life.

Opening the scrunched up piece of paper, it only read, '0423 193 013'.

Assuming that was her number, he felt annoyed.

'Could she just summon me to contact her whenever it pleases her?' he thought angrily.

No. He refused.

He chucked the piece of paper into his bag and decided to stop thinking.

Closing his eyes, Pete counted fat sheep in his head until he eventually fell asleep.

....................................................................

[Meanwhile]

Jess left the airport, flustered after seeing her old high school best friend.

Despite his new haircut, change of fashion and girlfriend... even seeing him for that moment and even recognising him seemed to bring back memories of their past.

His girlfriend, Chloe (was that her name? She thought) was gorgeous. She was very bubbly and pretty, but even so, she felt that her prescence had been unwelcomed. By both of them.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her name called out.

"Jess!", greeted Logan, pulling her into a tight hug.

His strong, mucular arms pulled her into a tight bear hug.

"I've missed you so much!" he said, whilst continuing his attack.

"Agh your suffocating me," she managed.

Stupid Logan, never changing, she thought jokingly.

"I swear you're going to kill me one day like this! Stop thinking you're still that little skinny 15 year old! " she said.

"Sorry J," he said, laughing.

He took her bags and motioned her towards his car.

"Let's get you home," he said warmly.

...................................................................


"0423 193 013", he typed into the handset.

Yep, he was so going to be doomed for this. Yet he could not help himself from discovering what happened all those years either.

"You will regret this Pete", warned his head.

Taking a deep breath in, he pressed dial.

Brring Brring.

No response. That's okay, one call. It probably hasn't even connected yet.

Brring Brring.

Ok, ok. Are you ready? Any second now.

Brring Brring.

Any second now. For real.

Brring Brr-

"Sorry, the number you have dialled is switched off or unavailable. Please leave your number, or try again".

WTF?

He had to admit, he could feel the adrenalin pumping whilst anticipating her picking up. But almost as if he knew it was too good to be true, she didn't pick up.

Well did she ever?

Here he was, standing in the bathroom of the hotel dialling the number of a girl he used to love whilst Chloe was waiting outside for him. He felt definitely like that high-school boy again, except this time he also felt guilty because he knew he still had feelings.

"I hate girls," he sighed before walking back outside to his girlfriend.
..............................................................................................................................................

To be continued....

Jess

As Pete was packing away the cluttered belongings in his room into cardboard boxes, he came across an old photo now covered with dust. Blowing off the evidence of the time that has passed by, Pete looked at the two smiling faces in the photo. The girl was smiling cheerily, showing off her pearly whites and her black hair gleamed in the sun. The boy on the other hand smiled with his mouth closed, leaning his head slightly towards hers. They had been the best of friends, sharing important moments of their lives with each other.

Pete fingered the large crease in the photo, bringing him back into his old school, where the phoo had been taken during their graduation.

'Omg Pete just give me a smile!' she had said, nudging him playfully with her shoulder.

'What's there to smile about?' he replied grumpily, sulking about the fact that graduation only meant it was 1 week until Jess would go to America for university.

With his finncial situation, he knew the likelihood of visiting her would be close to nil.

Caving into Jess's bubbly smile, Pete smiled grudingly whilst she happily snapped away on her camera.

'I'm gonna miss you sooooo much!' she had said, putting emphasis on how much she would miss him.

He rememebered the way she locked her arm around his, so naturally... So instinctively.

'Yeah, miss me my ass.' scoffed Pete bitterly as he threw the photo carelessly to the floor.

'The bitch didn't even bother to contact me once, once she left.' he thought angrily, feeling the familiar rush of hot anger and cold realisation that she didn't care about him.

He waited 3 years for her.

3 years of staying in this hole. Staying local whilst everyone else moved on to do greater things. Yet he was still here, like a fool, waiting hopelessly for her to return, or at least contact him.

'Not a fool anymore', he thought, as he continued packing to move to Sydney.

From the side of his vision, the photo seemed to burn a hole through the floor, drawing all the attention from him. He felt guilty for pretending that he didn't care, but he didn't want to feel the pain. He didn't want to feel lonely anymore.

He walked over to pick up the photo once more, holding it close to his heart.

'Girls are seriously all bitches,' he thought bitterly whilst still holding the photo fondly.

He felt so confused, so betrayed. So torn between how he felt, and what she had meant to him.

'Why did I love her for this long? Why did I waste all those stupid years moping over her when she clearly did not reciprocate?' he kept thinking.

He felt disgust and annoyance at both himself and Jess.

He no longer wanted to feel like a miserable wreck, a pathetic boy who had a high school crush.

'No, it was all her fault', reasoned his head, dismissing any remnants of care for her.

It was all her fault...

..................................................................................

2 years later

..................................................................................

Pete was laughing happily with his girlfriend Chloe, walking hand in hand into the airport to celebrate their one year anniversary.

'Babe, I love you so much,' she said, smiling.

Pete felt absolute bliss. This girl was perfect and everything he had wanted, and now they were about to go on a holiday together.

There could be nothing better.

"Hey Pete", came a voice from behind.

The silky smooth voice, one that he could never forget.

"Babe, there's a girl calling for you," said Chloe.

He turned around, to be met with the familiar dark haired girl beaming at him with those unforgettable pearly whites.

'How have you been?' Jess asked, walking closer.

.................................................................................................................................................

-To be continued-

A/N: should he pretend to not know her or reconcile?

PMS

Ever feel like this tacky plastic tiara?
One girl, one guy, perfect relationship? I think not!

For the girls...
How many times have you wished that the 'perfect guy' would magically appear in front of you, sweeping you helplessly off your feet into his strong arms. And how many times do you wish this perfect guy to be handsome yet smart, sweet yet sexy, who must fufill all the requirements of being a gentlemen yet taking initiative in the relationship? Of course, he will love only you, look only at you and no other women, buy you presents on all the occassions and also surprise you when you least expect with little gestures or gifts?

Now... what must you do in the relationship?

Of course, absoultely nothing except look beautiful and wait for all everything to come to you. If you are the romantic, maybe you can chuck in a few love letters but certainly not pay for him, because... that's the guys job! As well as protecting you and acting manly.

Maybe if you are like this, or less exaggerated, you have in fact PMS. Princess Malnutrition Syndrome.

And for the guys...
Now your girlfriend or partner is acting grumpy. Yep, it must certainly be that time of the month. P.M.S.
Yes, it certainly is that 'time of the month', but no I do not mean the female menstruation cycle. It is the time when men should buy all their princesses presents, or act extra nicer, just because.... well you are men.

Just like you feed your dogs and cats, you should now allocate a part of your monthly, weekly or better yet, daily earnings to feed your princess everything that she needs to be the bright, beautiful, bubbly girl that she deserves to be.

How much you say? Or wait, you are just another blundering high school student who does not have a job yet and is just facing the many stresses of the HSC?

Sadly, you are still not exempt. If you do not have the money, no fear! You may always resort to:

a) Finding money off the ground, to 99% no avail
b) Saving your lunch money, yes that $7.50 that you may spend at the canteen is now not yours anymore
c) Sell your video games for that extra bit of cash.
d) Sell your soul

... in order to please that lovely princess of yours.

And how may you sell your soul?

Why, simply sign up for a beautiful, sweet, romantic love today ;)

AN: Idealism is stupid. Read the Great Gatsby for an example.

A journey home

The slimy mud stuck onto his shoes, staining dark patches against his off white shoes.

Puddles were scattered across the pathway, with last nights rainfall leaving a slick residue of water across the sleek concrete. Fallen leaves and small, scrawny twigs intertwined together in the puddles, forming a mess of intangible slop.

Gerald trudged along aimlessly, occassionally looking behind him to check if anyone was following him. Only the shadows loomed across the road, covering the natural moonlight. He hadn't realised it had gotten so late, spending his nights studying in the library. As he walked home, the chilling wind whipped relentlessly against his face, boring holes into his skin. He shifted uncomfortably in his overcoat, making a feeble attempt to retain his warmth.

The road home was dark and desolate, with no one else sharing his journey but his shadow. The occassional car drove past quickly to return to their safe sanctuary of home. The feeling of uncertainty creeped up on Gerald as if tapping him gently on the shoulder. Gerald looked around once more, but was again met with nothing. Only the sound of his wet footsteps echoed against the ground, providing him some reassurance that he was indeed walking home.

As he passed the canopy of trees that had previously blocked out all light, he saw the moonlight shining ephemerally into the street. He felt eerie, yet serene. There was a calming effect about the moon that he did not understand, as he momentarily pondered what could be happening exactly at that moment somewhere else, somewhere where the moon was also shining.

Gerald's body stiffened, sensing as though there was somebody walking behind him. He could not hear footsteps, and looking back, all he could see was the dark, dense shrubbery. 

He shrugged off his uneasyness, focusing his thoughts on a completely different matter.

What should he do for his mothers 75th birthday? Why was that woman even alive for that matter? All she seemed to do was drone on about old news and politics, smelling like decayed sandalwood and cheese. He never wanted to visit her, her house was old and creaky and needed a new plumbing system.

Scoffing at his previous paranoia, Gerald smirked at his thought that nothing could be scarier than spending extended periods of time with his mum.

Gerald felt a chill pass through him that seemed to steal his confidence away, as once again he realised he was still alone on the dark road. Walking home now felt like a lifetime, and the feeling of paranoia crept back into him.

Goosebumps formed on the back of his neck. 'I swear I can feel something following me', he thought panicking. Yet at the same time did not want to look around again in case he saw whatever it was, or yet, nothing once again.

Just as he thought he heard a shuffle come closer towards him, Gerald saw his familiar driveway that installed a sense of ease. He made a light run for the door, and fumbled with his keys madly to get in.

Phew.

Opening the door, he was greeted with momentary darkness before he turned on all the lights, making sure there was nothing there. Whatever could there be?

After half an hour, Gerald had settled down, feeling silly for causing such an internal commotion.

With his microwaved tv-dinner in hand, he made his way into the lounge room to relax, even for a little while.

It was not until he had finished his meal and returned to the lounge room that he noticed it.

The faint shuffling noise once again... Though he could not tell where it was coming from.

-to be continued-

First time for everything

Jamie felt the familiar burn of the liquid, forming a slithering trail of warmth inside her go down her throat. The thought of its rancid taste was long gone… how long exactly? She thought. She wasn’t sure. Maybe it was a month ago… or was it a year?
How long has it been since he left her?
The thought of his smiling face, her brushing her fingers through his coarse, curly brown hair came into her mind. She felt something wet drip against her face.
Wait no, that’s tears, she noticed, scoffing gently.
If only he saw how pathetic she looked right now, would he come back? Would he feel sorry for me? Spoke her thoughts, forming a troubled cloud above her head.
NO, yelled the other voice. YOU MUSN’T GIVE IN.
She didn’t want to feel pathetic; she didn’t want to just wallow in her sorrows by drinking. She knew that this would lead nowhere.
But where is somewhere? What do you even want to do? What is left?
She had to keep up this fight, every moment, every second until she knew she would be safe from his memory.
‘Jamie, you’re beautiful’ echoed his voice, seeping back into her mind.
‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?’ she screamed, flailing her arms in the air helplessly, letting herself fall into the trap.
Jamie forgot now, about the fight. She forgot about how only moments ago, she had warned herself against feeling like this.
Tears trailed endlessly against her face, no longer inducing any reaction from Jamie.
The buzz was building up, she could feel it.
She could feel the blurring of her surroundings, as she left all hope of sanity, of control.
‘Matt, I miss you’ she whispered, before falling asleep, leaving this world behind even if it’s only for a short while.

K for Kissing

Her screams echoed in the lonely room as he tugged viciously at her hair.
"Just fucking take it, you bloody slut. You're not worth a shit," he spat at her.
Tears streamed from her eyes, staining her pale skin. Her skin was marked in a kaledioscope of colours... black, blue and red.
Katrina made no attempts to fight back, nor even respond. She was paid for it, right?
In such a world, who would care for a 'bloody slut' like her?
She didn't think if she died that anybody would even cry for her.
A laugh escaped from her mouth as she remembered what her mum had told her the night before she decided to jump off that building, right in front of her very eyes.
'You make me proud now Kat, don't follow me,' she had said, tears rolling from her face.
Why the fuck were all the men in the world such assholes?
Why had her father cheated on her mother like that?
Why did her mother have to leave her alone in a world like this?
'What's so funny little shit? You like it rough don't ya? Don't pretend you're so innocent,' he said, continuing his own act of pleasure.
'Are you proud of me mum?' thought Katrina. 'You all made me live like this.'
'You can see me now can't you? I hope you're proud of your little daughter.'

She had been a happy, joyful girl before everything crashed at her feet. Living in a world full of glittery hope, she had big things going for her. She grew up with all the toys she wanted, with the loving smiles of her parents.
At what point had it gotten so bad? Or was it always like that, but she was unaware because she was so happy herself?
Had she ever looked at the early signs, when her dad stopped attending the family parties? When he stopped coming home for dinner, because he had 'work'?
She had never even doubted him, after all, he must be working hard if she recieved a new car for her birthdays, right?

She didn't know that working hard had meant cheating on his mum with the fucking secretary.
'If I find that slut, I will definitely kill her,' she thought.

The man, whose name she didn't even know finished off and chucked a couple of bills on the bed.
'Here,' he said, back turned to her. 'What you love best, apart from sucking cock.'

How wrong he was. She hated having to lower herself to such a position, it was both uncomfortable, unfufilling, and everything that the bloody skank would've done to her father. And anything that they shared in common disgusted Katrina even more than the disgusting male figure, who was now proceeding to the shower.

'Fuck you bastard,' she yelled after him, picking up the scrunched up bills.

'Hah, so this is what your worth..' jeered the voice in her head.

Even she hated herself. Who would like her?

She walked over to the mirror, eyes now swollen, skin bruised, hair drenched in sweat and tears. There was nothing attractive about her, no remnants of the girl she had once been.
Her dark shining hair had lost it's lustre, now tangled and oily. Her perfectly manicured nails were now dirty and chipped.

What once was a woman at her peak, quickly fell into the wrong hands, which went into the wrong places.

Things she never knew, things she could never even fear happened.

She felt dirty, used, and violated.

By her father, her mother, and the nameless men that used her for sex. The men who needed to get their own power-fix, or to get away from their bossy-homes and instead spend their night with a whore. The unfaithful never seemed to have enough.

'Why has everyone forsaken me?'

The hum of the shower running, with the man humming an outdated tune that had been played too many times.

Buzz. Buzz.

No caller ID.

'What?' said Katrina, not in the mood for anything.

'Kat, we've got another job for you,' cooed the sugary sweet voice, which could only mean her pimp wanting to sell her to other men.

'How many should I fuck a night ay? Haven't I done enough? You're a dictator, you know?' she answered.

The sugary voice laughed, 'What do you know slut? Do you want it or not? He's offering a high price, and there's many others who're willing.'

Katrina sighed, still holding onto the bills in her hand.

'Text me the address,' she said, before hanging up.

She didn't even have time to shower or get ready, but who the fuck cares? Showers weren't going to fix the constant grime she felt, oozing from the inside out.

Her phone beeped, and the address was located in the rich part of town.

'Haa,' she thought.

Another rich business man wanting to fuck, cheating on his wife and his family. Exactly the type of man she hated. The type of man her father was... or still is. Who knows? She hadn't seen him since her mother's suicide.

..............................................................................................

Arriving outside the mansion, Katrina scoffed.
It reminded her of where she used to live... before... 'that' happened.
Standing outside the gates, she wondered how she was meant to get in at 3am.
She buzzed the door once, in case she woke up the unknowing family.

A voice whispered through the intercom, 'hold on, I'll come get you'.

So, it was really one of those cheating men.

She saw a dim light out the front, followed by a silhouette walking out the door. His face was obscured by the shadow, but he motioned for her to walk in and follow him.

He led her inside a large house, though the details were hard to see through the dark.

'Try not to wake the wife, she wouldn't like you here,' he whispered, laughing quietly.

Katrina felt her blood boiling, like she really wanted to smash his head with one of his fancy, expensive vases, but self-restraint got the better of her.

They took a couple more turns, before he dragged her into one of the rooms and pinned her onto the wall, kissing her neck passionately.

'You're so beautiful,' he said, in between the kisses.

When he looked up into her eyes, Katrina recognised them at once. Hers. His face. His body. Everything. Katrina froze, a renching feeling gripping her. She felt like throwing up right there, on his face. On him.

All these years, this is how they meet.

'What's wrong babe?' he said, stopping his attack.

'So this is how he does it,' she thought.

Disgust seeped through every cell in her body. She had no idea how to react. The urge to kill someone in her life had never been so strong. Her fists clenched tightly into two balls.

So many thoughts ran through her head.

She wanted to scream out, 'You don't recognise your fucking daughter you assholemotherfucker-'

'You don't look so good,' he said, kindly enough.

'Uh..' she managed to choke out, whilst her head was still reeling with expletives.




TO BE CONTINUED -----

Short snippets

She was long past her expiry date. Her skin was no longer young, the age visible in her eyes along with the dark smudged eyeliner. Her fake plasticy face was no longer an object of desire, but instead passerbys looked at her with disgust and pity.
She was no longer beautiful, no longer the bronzed beach babe. Her skin had given in to the years of intense tanning, and the wrinkles and freckles covered her skin.
Age never seemed to be a problem for her. She HAD BEEN young, carefree and beautiful. But it was these easy years of drinking, partying around and drug use that had eaten away at her, welcoming in the age to chip away at her beauty.
As she sat in the middle of the crowded bus, a can of Bourbon in one hand and a cigarette on the other, she felt her life slowly dissolving from her with each puff of smoke.