Fearless (Naomi & Emily) Chapter 2 Part (2/2) SECOND PART of the double post!
Coffee goes in mouth, NOT on paper, -She brushes the thick material of her leggings with her left hand- OR ME! Fuck sake, why do things never fucking listen to me?! Like them lot, i’ll give Cook the fucking cure, maybe he should shove it up his own ass if it does so much good, plus, i’m not the one who needs ‘curing’ where did he get that from. -She bites her lip, as if the pressure on it would force those unmentionable things back into oblivion, out of existence, hiding it from the suspicions of the diary that lay before her-
Emily made a cake. Who’d of thought eh? Little Emily Fitch has her own
little talent? Normally she’s too busy floating in Katie’s huge orbit to even see her, let alone realise she can make delicacies, but of course in natural fashion it went completely unappreciated, i don’t know if i can even say Cook has a mouth? Its more like a never ending vacuum, a fucking black hole.... I’m surprised nobody’s belongings have been lost down him, what a twat, seriously...
Urgh, diaries are for yourself, well, myself, i know what i mean... so maybe i shouldn’t go on about him so much? i wish Cook would just piss off, he’s even biting a grotty chunk out of my pages, pretty much sums up what he’s starting to do to me... OK thats it, FUCK talking about him, cook who? Christ.
Finally escaped that pub, wish i had a more offensive name for it right now... wasted them all already -she taps the heavy end of her pen rather furiously on the top of her hard back notebook, drumming for inspiration, the continuous sound looking to drill the perfect word for the moment through her fingertips onto the page- nope, nothing, i’m spent. We ended up outside a boat, something to do with fate? Christ don’t ask me, his version of fate involves swallowing some slut, looked like something more than belongings got lost down his face... FUCK SAKE no more mention of him, i swear to god, ha.. oh the irony -the corners of her mouth play a smile, keeping her tongue firmly behind the white guard of her teeth, biting her bottom lip a little, but somehow beaming amusement- how do i still laugh at God? Too many of them live in my house. So drugs win again, got us in the boat, what i then wanted was to be out of it, didn’t realise there was a track suite appreciation day must have missed it on my calender, maybe i should have taken mine... i think the choice would have overcome me, my wardrobe obviously the height of chav fashion.
Despite the evening so obviously getting better... ( i think it was what? somewhere in between panda practically breaking her neck on the way out of the bathroom coughing up something i THINK her nose would have preferred and Freddie ogling Effy’s every move that i realised i would rather speak to Katie ) ... I made possibly the best decision of my life so far, to go home. Christ it really was that bad. I got stopped though, oh yes.. by those brown eyes that have followed me ever since that day in shitty middle school, it was her again.
You’d think you’d notice if someone had been staring at you for the past half an hour right? Well i think she’s done it so much since the start of roundfuck that i’ve grown immune... Now this girl could do with her fair share of Cook cock -her brow furrows, the familiar feeling reaches her again, one that has often been unwelcomed, one that always provokes a memory that she doesn’t want... she doesn’t think she wants to relive, it draws lines on her features, always, draws lines on her features, it becomes the author of her, despite her insisting its the other way around, despite her false claim for control- I didn’t mean that. No one deserves that.... -her pen contemplates the contradictions, the excuses within her arsenal that, at peril of their owner, are just waiting to burst free onto the page- I mean come on, its that rank twat, i’m not that harsh. I left, nothing was keeping me there, definitely nothing. Well everyone has their hopes, i met the light of freedom, placing all my hope into one , probably pissed on more times than any toilet, lamp post, wasted effort... she followd. I hope this stops soon before i get all lame and start protesting for vegetables and their rights, i just kept walking, i wish she'd get the hint... Instead i heard a 'Wait!' I really don't know what mind made me turn around and face her, not a good idea, never is... So we said two more sentences to each other both about as significant as the labels plastered onto bean cans... I think, no, i know, that i wanted answers, thats why i stayed, it must be..
That got me fucking miles, i got a "sorry", how is that fair? more injustice laid on me, yet again. I get accused on being gay by every fucker in Bristol, even if they don't know me! -Her anger builds, her character falling slightly more, cracking to let just a trickle of her inner most thoughts appear on the surface, just a trickle, the page silently praising as it is met by her, Naomi, if only for a second.. the diary's purpose is met- All because of her.. because of... -her grasp on the pen weakens, signalling the break down of her furious attack, her sudden anger dispelled, and instead moulding into something unknown, not yet understood by the blonde- Em.. her. And all i get is a fucking sorry? I thought she was the smart one...
-She knows her final attempt is in vein, her page tears, revealing, against her will, telling the only true story yet in her volume, Miss Campbell does care...-
Cor Blimey posting that was a mission! Thankyou for being patient with this one, it was a bit tricky i must say. Now if you don't mind giving me feedback, i do love writing for myself, but i'd also love to try and improve :) tell me what you think? ^-^ I'd love it if you could!