Batshit Insane (1/?)
Oh my god, Snow is fucking insane. I mean, I knew she was weird before (with a weird-ass name, too) but now she's standing over someone's goddamn body holding a fucking knife. What the fuck? Right about now, I believe it was proven that I have an extremely one-track mind, because, y'know, I should probably be running or quietly slipping away or something. Instead, I'm extremely productively focusing on the fact that the ice queen her self is bat-shit crazy.
“Jesus, you're fucking insane!” I comment, and hey, I never was good at keeping my trap shut. She looks up at me, surprised, before her eyes narrow like cat's. Suddenly I realized I really shouldn't be insulting the crazy bitch who just wasted someone. Yeah, good plan.
She stares at me, covered in blood, and Jesus-fucking-Christ, that's got to be the creepiest thing ever. She stalks cattily past the desks, and why the bloody hell would you kill someone at school anyway? I mean, seriously, did the kid steal her homework or some other shit like that? (Once again my one-track mind makes an appearance. Hello! Crazy chick with knife dead ahead!)
She smiles at me, all predatory and such, and I'm suddenly reminded of my cat. No, not the cute one that likes to cuddle and purrs if you look at her nicely, but the other one who, coincidentally, is also batshit insane. That cat, the fucking weirdo, hisses at trees and always sneak attacks my fingers. I unconsciously move my hand behind my back because, hey, if a little kitty can viciously attack my poor, innocent fingers, than my freak class-mate is more than eligible to try.
She right up in my face now. She's covered in blood, and still holding the knife, and right behind her on the ground is a dead body, and I'm waaaaaay to afraid to look at it. The closest I've ever gotten to a dead body is on whatever fucking law-show is on at night, and I'm not exactly eager to change that.
“Teddy,” She purrs, and uh, my name is Roland, but I think I'll let is slide because she's holding A Fucking Knife.
The Fucking Knife inches closer to my face, and suddenly I realize that the only think I've said to her so far is an insult. “Tedd-” She starts again, and I immediately interrupt.
“You're really pretty?” I manage to squeak out. Defiantly not my proudest moment. Also: What the fuck? You're pretty? Seriously, Roland? Pull your shit together, self! I mean, technically it's not a lie. She is pretty. And insane. Really, really insane. The second aspect is kinda daunting the first, just a tiny bit.
She smiles at me amusement plain as day on her face. “Thank you Teddy-” and , yeah, the whole Teddy thing is kind of annoying “-but I think we need to talk about you.” Her eyes focus on my again, and I try my damnedest not to shiver.
“Ooooooooookay.” I agree. Sure, let's talk about how my name is not Teddy, and how that knife you have on my face kinda makes my uncomfortable.
“Let's talk about how you're not going to tell anyone about this-” She waves an arm gracefully around the room “-this. And how if you do, I will stick nails in all you joints, and make a necklace out of your fingernails.”
Okay, that last one made me blink. The hell? Necklace, fingernails, I swear to god is she's been watching Saw, or some other shit, I will kill myself now, thanks very much.
Suddenly I realize I probably should be paying more attention to the threats, on the off chance she plans to actually carry them out.
“-And then I'll use your eyes to clean my bathtub.” Than again, maybe not. She continues on her crazed-rant (much like this whole day) and I continue to ponder what the fuck she's even talking about.
As she continue, I wonder vaguely how many body parts she knows. I think she just said phalanges. I wonder if she's going to be a doctor. I smile a bit ironically at that, and suddenly the world is less amusing, and there's a knife pressed directly under my eye socket.
“You find something funny?” She demands viciously, and I swallow harshly. Upon realizing 'no' just wasn't going to cut, I forced a weak smile to my face. “Phalanges?”I repeat weakly. She stares incredulously. “Phalanges? Phalanges?! You find that funny?” She says like I'm the weirdo. Uh, hello, Pot Kettle? Any of this ringing bells? I nod weakly anyways and she rolls her eyes.
“Whatever, Teddy. You keep your trap shut or we'll be seeing more of each other, got it?” I nod vehemently. Oh I got it. I got it so bad, they should call fucking Disease Control.
She shoves away from me,and instantly I'm sprinting down the hallways, and then to my car. I practically threw the thing in reverse and break almost every speeding law on the way home.
I run inside and studiously lock every door and window. Then, later that night, after finally getting to sleep, when I'm woken up by the ear-splitting sound of snow sharpening her knife next to my bed, I can't bring myself to be surprised.
Her feet are resting on my bed(still in shoes too, the bitch) , and her eyes are following my head as it whips around, me still half asleep.
“Teddy.” She nods greeting me. My name is still. Not. Teddy. I glance at my clock. 2:54 am. She prods me with her foot. “C'mon time to go dispose of the body.” She informs me casually, prodding me with her foot.
I glare blearily at her. “Crazy Bitch,” I mumble, pulling myself into a sitting position. She nods, and hands me shoes. By the time we get out to her car, she's rambling about the plan, and I swear she just called me her assistant.
Fucking insane.
(A/N Um, I actually do have an excuse. The character Snow belongs to my friend Sophia, and I promised her I'd write a one-shot about her. Poor, poor Teddy Roland.)