ligeia

Speak IV

Naturally, Line wasn't her real name. It was Katrina. Too
many syllables. Besides, the drug inuendo was asking to be
fucked.

She had had a disgustingly perfect home life. Line
couldn't appreciate perfection. Self destruction was an
artform and a controlled substance. She abused the hell out
of it.

She didn't kiss a guy until she was 14. That was about the
same time she lost her virginity.

And it had all been to Door. He was so hopelessly male.
Self conscious, good-looking, and horny. She strategically
positioned herself as a target. Sucker.

She learned alot though, which was a new and annoying
experience for her. How to inhale rediwhip for a 1 dollar
high. How to make just the right sound to make a guy
come. How to wear enough eyeliner to paint a mural.

Sneaking out at 12:00 and coming back from a rave at 5:00
ready to meet a surreal day with sunshine smelling like
murder. It was during one of those nights that she met
D'arcy.

She was in a corner, looking like she was about to punch
some guy for hitting on her and being good at it. She wore
beaten jeans bursting with rebelment and flesh. They had
had a mutual friend, June, who had moved. They knew of
each other, so Line smiled.

The talked, D'arcy mostly, because she was pissed. Some
girl did something. Whatever. Line just enjoyed her cool
words and weed smoked thoughts. There was something of
being initiated by D'arcy. A goofy pride. Line knew she
was being swayed. She detested the thought and savoured
the feeling.

They both had their reasons. D'arcy's brother beat her up
whenever he damn well pleased. Her mother cheating openly
on her father, whose sallow mouth had forgotten easy
smiles. Business eyes and good hearted hands. It was
painful to see him frown deep despair. Pain Pain seeping
around the corners of her bedroom scaping on her
callouses. Smiling sadness.

There were a few solutions D'arcy had turned to. Drinking
and sex and such. Slimy mediocrity. It was such a bore.
And she did it with full knowledge of consequences and
acknowledgement. Punishement didn't happen. There were
only consequences.

There was no commanding hand put forth to chastise the
wicked. Just occurances and effects on occurances. A
beautiful scientific formula for the movement of a circle.
Humans were the only creatures ignorant enough to fuck it
up. And that's what they did. D'arcy had to find
something less taxing.

Line had been diagnosed with severe depression with bi-
polar shadows. Line knew it was bullshit. She was just
crazy. prozac was pumped into her bloodstream. Brain
chemicals flickering with electricity scattered without
wires.

Worse, she believed in fate. It was proven in tiny
coincidences that never were to be offered as proof. It
was the clinging on to an insane idea for sanity. It was
time for a test. An actual decision to amke no actual decisions to
find out if she could make it all fall apart. Of
course, she knew it would never determine anything. At
least she's feel better.

That night she walked with D'arcy back to her 3rd floor
apartment. Door close. Lock with a brick.

Line was still trippin' on E. The euphoria cleared her
mind enough for her to realize her ankle was bleeding. No pain. A
child's interest with running water.

She slipped off her pumps and made for the bathroom,
avoiding piles of plaster that had fallen from the ceiling. Red on
flourescent ivy. It was one of those moments of inspiration for a
novel. Line strangled it until it died with a bubbling breath. Damn
productivity.

She rinsed her ankle with some water watched the living red
fade to a sickening pink. Pink vomit. She turned the water off.
She didn't look in the cracked mirror on her way out.

The night was ebbing. She felt like she had won. Outlived
then night. She watched it struggle hopelessly with the sun.
Each day was a battle. No one won. Jesus, there she went again.

Naturally, she didn't go home that night. nor did she ever
again. It wasn't even a conscious decision. It just happened.
That was the way Line wanted it.

Around 7 she called Door. he showed up, knocking loudly.
A sleeping D'arcy didn't even flinch. Line moved the brick and Door
came in. He caught sight of D'arcy.

"What'd she do, fuck the sandman?"

"He raped her.

His eyes were laughing at her.

"Shut the fuck up." They didn't.

Line gave a pissy sigh and pushed through Door and was in
the hall. A whole ecology of algae on the walls. He followed her,
smiling tiger.

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