Saturday, 21 May 2011


Laria opened one eye, thought better of it and closed it. Her head throbbed painfully. This wasn't good. What had she been doing? What had caused her to get so drunk? She could remember... remember...


She opened her eyes again, despite the pain. The glasses were still out. It had happened... he'd come back, holding the things she'd given him. The presents...returned. The future taken away from her. She'd had plans, ideas, schemes. Things she wanted to do... together. And they were all lies, built on lies. She'd been... flavour of the month. Nothing more. She felt used. Anger stirred within her, and she used it to haul herself upright.

If that future wasn't available to her, she'd make a new one.

She stood up, and stumbled rather to the mirror. A little red-eyed, mussy-haired and perhaps rather grey-skinned, but presentable enough. Every time he looked at her, from now on, and she would make sure he had plenty of opportunities... every time he looked at her, she would ram down his throat what he had thrown away. Screw him, screw his lies. Whoever it was that he'd gone off to be with, she wasn't worth half what Laria was.

That was it. That was the way to be thinking. And as long as she kept thinking like that, the kicking and screaming and crying and the big empty feeling in her stomach would stay an arm's-length away.

She only had short arms.

No comments:

Post a Comment