Because it's Saturday and because I feel like sharing, here is the beginning of something I just started. I find it funny how I get ideas right around the time I have to start editing.


Music blasting, bodies moving, hands feeling. Long, bony fingers exploring every inch of my body. Lips nibbling my ear, sending chills down my spine.

"Jason," I slurred, grabbing a hold of his shirt. He takes it the wrong way, and pushes me deeper into the couch. I hate his lips. I hate how they feel on my skin. So sloppy, so wet.

They crash against mine.

I close my eyes.

No fireworks there. No fireworks ever.

He lets me come up for air. It's now or never.



I wrinkle my nose. His breath reeks. It smells worse than my dog's poop, and believe me when I say that I would rather press my face into a pile of Spot's shit, then be here, kissing the biggest ass of all time.

I still can't believe I went out with him.

"Get the fuck off of me." My words are like puzzle pieces scattered across the floor, even so, Jason gets the big picture.

He pulls away, "Come on, babe."

"I'm not your babe, Jay. Now get the fuck away from me."

"You never used to be like this."

People were always saying that to me. My mom, my dad, my best friends, and sometimes, when I wasn't drunk enough, high enough I would look in the mirror and say it to myself. So it wasn't like I didn't know I was different.

I just didn't want to accept it.

A huge smile lights up Jason's face, making his eyes even more electrifying then they already are. "Your point is?"

"My point is that you used to be fun, Sky. Skinny dipping in neighbors' pools, making-out in the backseat of my car, staying out all night drinking and partying, doing whatever, now you're..."

"Different? Yeah, I know."

"I just want to know why, babe. I mean, you used to like making out with me," he said, poking my nose.

"Don't touch me." I smack his hand away, and he starts to laugh. It's a wonder that one of his many girlfriends never told him that he was in need of a tic-tac, or better yet, a toothbrush.

I reach for my purse, hoping that I have some mints on hand, but I come up empty. Leaning over, I scan the floor, hoping my knock-off Coach purse was beside my feet, but nothing is there.

Oh, shit. My fucking purse is gone. My fucking keys were in that purse, which means I can't go home unless I find it. Even so, someone would have to drive me, and I doubt anyone would be able to considering the fact that everyone here is drunk out of their minds.


"You okay?" Jason asked, and I glare at him, because if he hadn't came to bother me, I would remember where my purse was at.

"No, I'm not."


Oh, dear. Poor sky... I wonder what happened to make her change?

Good luck with the editing, Ely :]. Your new stuff is wicked<3


I wonder what happened to Sky too. Her voice is strong, with that dead like quality you get when you just stop giving a fuck.

Good teaser!


Lia - Thanks for reading! And thanks, I'm gonna need all the luck I can get editing this WIP. :D

CJ - *wipes away sweat* That's exactly what I was going for. Thanks for reading, and I'm glad you got that impression about Sky.


Oh dear. Poor Sky - I hope she finds her bag! And I wonder why she stopped caring as well.


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