Post by ::.Bites.:: on Jun 13, 2009 7:18:16 GMT -6
Forbidden in Heaven, and Useless in Hell
Give me a picket sign, make it blank and white. Like all the stupid teenag-
“Shut up!” She yelled as the ringtone blared from her stolen phone. Rubbing her eyes free of sleep, the teenager all but rolled off the semi-shredded mattress she slept on. Looking around, she spotted the vile device that had woke her up, and with slim, pale, nimble fingers, picked up the device and flipped it open. It was 9 o’clock.
Groaning, Willow rolled off the mattress, and onto the makeshift floor which rested on the rafters of the Crypt house. She cast a quick glance around, she couldn’t see anyone, but that might have been because it was rather dark, and her eyes had not had time to adjust to the lack of light. She remained still for a moment, waiting for her vision to adjust. Once it had, she grabbed the pile of clothes she’d left next to the mattress, and headed down to the locker rooms.
Willow was not your average teenager. She is almost past the teenage years, but, at 18 –still has the suffix ‘teen’ attached. None the less, she’s not average. For one thing, she doesn’t know her last name –and barely remembers who her parents were. This can mainly be attributed to the numerous drugs she took before the Crypts took her in. She is part of a gang, and lives on the west side of town. The Bloods are her sworn enemies –if she found any, she would kill them –and they would return the favour. Yet, to look at her you would not see a killer. You would see a teenager, who looked like a high school dropout (which she was), a drug addict, and someone who was into metal.
Where you too see her as she was at that second you would see a slim girl, with chin length, straight red hair, creamy white skin, and almond shaped green eyes. You would see her shuffling towards the rundown showers that were available for the Crypts to use. Her eyes would have black smudges from the makeup she’d forgotten to take off the day before, and you would wonder how she could see with her bangs hanging in her face. Had you asked her, she would have grunted something that no human could understand and continue walking.
‘Showers are nice. Warm water. Clean… soap.’ Her thoughts were far from coherent. Though this time was late at night for most normal people, it was early in Willow’s day. She was a fairly nocturnal creature to start with –especially now that it was summer. She could hardly be out for 15 minutes without getting sunburn. How she hated that ball of gas sometimes.
Dropping her belongings next to a sink, she grabbed a towel and walked into the shower. Seeming to work on auto-pilot, she turned the water up to its maximum temperature and the pressure at full. The result was instant: the water came out from the shower head in a weak, but steady torrent, and the temperature was just above lukewarm –but that was normal. Seven minutes later her shower was over, and she was wandering back over to her clothes; refreshed, renewed, and slightly more awake.
With a soft sigh she ran her fingers through her hair. “I should really get you cut… I’ll get a job. It’s about time I do… Talk to Slade; job.” Willow nodded absently to herself –she still wasn’t fully awake.
Minutes later, she was dressed. A tight fitting black t-shirt decorated by a V on a background of flame was the graphic on the shirt, and the words “Lord of Rock” beneath them. Lose black pants held up by two belts covered her legs, and black lace up boots compromise her foot wear. {and because I suck at describing clothing: photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v350/199/48/530385477/n530385477_4524566_2459.jpg} Her green eyes stared at the choker in front of her for a few seconds. The big silver spikes coming out of it were rather neat… but if she wore it tonight, she wouldn’t be able to wear it around town if she were to go anywhere near Blood territory. Cursing under her breath, Willow stuffed the choker into the ball made up of her pyjamas.
”Where’s the damn basket?” She muttered darkly, referring of course to the basket the Crypts used for their towels. Willow was the one who brought them to the Laundromat every week, and yet she couldn’t find the basket. After a minute of half-hearted searching, she found it by the door to the work-out room. “What idiot…. Oh never mind.” With an annoyed huff, she dropped her towel into the basket, and started back to the rafters.
The trip back up took less time than the trip down, or so it seemed to her. Within moments she was back up in her little cubby of a room, and dropping her pj’s off next to her pillow. Willow stared at the unmade mattress for a moment, before bending down and straightening out the comforter that covered her bed. With practiced ease she folded her night clothes into a perfect square, and then stepped over her mattress to wear she kept her clothing. Straightening her small pile of shirts and underclothes, she draped a sweater over the two piles for sake of privacy {I realize that this sentence makes no sense}.
Sitting down gingerly on the side of her mattress, Willow just sat quietly for a few minutes. A half hour had passed since she had woken up, and there was still much to get done. She cast a furtive glance at her meagre pile of makeup –though nothing she owned was of great quality, the stuff did stay on. But tonight was not a time to give the Bloods anything they could later use. ‘What the hell is wrong with me? Am I going soft?’. Willow had never cared much about how she looked, but lately she had been trying to make an effort. It was her way of rebelling against the past. Her way of saying that no matter what had happened; she could still be her own person.
With that thought in mind, Willow left her room and proceeded to exit the building. She slipped through the front entrance and right away looked down each end of the alley. Nobody had seen her leave. Slight disappointment hit her as she realized that. A part have her wished that someone had been there –she was in the mood for a fight. But that was usually the case with Willow when it came time for these meetings, the Bloods made her blood boil –an expression she heated using for semi-obvious reasons. Everyone was on edge at these meetings –yet a fight never broke out. In other words; she had a lot of nervous energy, and was hoping to find an outlet to release it on.
Humming softly to herself, Willow strolled down the street; her green eyes darted to and fro, looking for any sign of danger. Everything looked fine, but one could never be too careful.
Two back streets later she received a little surprise. A kid jumped out from behind a row of garbage cans, his face was set in what was supposed to be an intimidating glower, but the expression just looked comical on his face. He couldn’t be older than 15. “Yo bitch, whatcha think yo doing in my space, huh? Who ‘d you think you are? Yo shoud’n be down here bitch, it’s dangerous down here.”He was speaking with his hands, and Willow was having a hard time figuring out whether he was using that wangster accent to sound ‘cool’ or if it was just the way he spoke. The kid leaned in closer to her, and his voice softened to a whisper. “The Crypts be ‘round here somewhere. They wouldn’t be too happy if they found you around their turf.” An amused smile carved itself onto Willow’s heart shaped face. It took nearly all of her restraint not to laugh,
“And what makes you think they’d be happy to see you?” She questioned, with an eyebrow raised in question.
The teen puffed out his chest, “When I find them, I’m gunna ask to join them. Everyone knows ‘bout them, and I know I could help.” He was too confident for Willow’s liking, and she couldn’t keep the scowl off of her face. “Come back in a year or two, from what I’ve heard they don’t get anyone less than 16 involved.” Her voice was flat, but there was a commanding air behind her words –if he didn’t listen, she would force him to leave.
The punk frowned at her, before shaking his head slowly. “nu-uh bitch, you don know what you be talking ‘bout. Get out my way before I have ta hurt you.” He sounded serious, and Willow’s eyes narrowed to near slits. The kid never knew what hit him. A left hook to the side of his face, and as the momentum of the action carried her to the right, she crouched and brought her right leg swinging about. She hit him near the ankles, and he went down with a grunt, hitting his head on the cracked cement. In a few steps she was squatting over the body, a knife was in her hand and it was lying flat against his cheek. She taped the side of his face a few times. He was still conscious somehow, and part of her wondered if she’d done any damage to her brain –but she pushed the thought away. He needed to be taught a lesson. “look at me.” Willow commanded, her voice was soft, but the commanding town could not be mistaken. He did, and his eyes were wide with fright.
“You wouldn’t last a day with the Crypts. Work hard, learn to fight, and learn the back alleys. Then come back here in a year or two. I don’t want to see you around here again until then –if I do, I will kill you.” There was little emotion in the girl’s voice, she was stating fact –and knew it. With a flick of her wrist, she made a shallow, but long cut on the side of the boy’s face. She could tell at a glance that there would be a small scar where she had first dug the knife into his flesh. Standing, she stepped over him, before hauling him up by the collar with a small grunt. Pushing him away from the area she called home, she scowled again. “Go on, get out of here. You have until 3 to get out of my sight.”. She hadn’t even gotten to two by the time he was dashing around the corner.
Willow shook her head in disgust. These kids were all under the wrong impression. They all thought the Crypts were like the gangs they saw in movies. They weren’t – not really. They were more ruthless, and they talked like goddamn normal people! Muttering to herself, she swiped her knife clean on the side of her pant leg. That was one of the many nice things about black –you couldn’t see blood on it.
Turning back towards the gym, Willow smiled. She felt much better after the encounter with that boy. He’d provided her with an outlet for her energy, and for that she was grateful. Didn’t make the kid any less of an idiot though. One thing she was wondering about was the way he spoke, did people really think they spoke like that? “That would be so stupid…. If we talked differently everyone would think we were gangsters…” Willow shook her head in disbelieving amazement, people could be so dense…
Once back inside the gym, Willow made her way towards the kitchen. It was almost 10 o’clock. People would either be getting in from their days, or getting up soon –and she still hadn’t had any coffee. Entering the kitchen, she opened the little fridge they had and grabbed an apple –before making her way over to the coffee pot. “Whoever figured out how to make coffee is a saint…” She mumbled, somehow the smell of coffee had made her remember how much sleep she hadn’t gotten, and she was feeling tired all over again. ‘Stupid body’ She thought half-heartedly as she went about getting the coffee pot ready to make the drink of gods. Yawning, she lifted herself up onto the counter, and began watching the liquid fall into the pot. It didn’t take long for her to fall into an almost meditative state, and become completely transfixed by the simple motion.
OoC;// I hate the ending. Yay for a post done at like 2 in the morning, and then continued on 4 hours sleep xD
As for the Subject... I don't even know, it was a lyric I just heard o.o
Opening Lyric: "Four Rusted Horses" -Marilyn Manson
Lyric Willow Hears: "Blank and White" -Marilyn Manson
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