So
I bought her a ticket when I was released from the net.
On
closer inspection she was dressed particularly innocently, and I
immediately felt awkward about the head and foot job she gave me
before. I couldn't believe that someone dressed so much like a
Christian girl in Jesus sandals, with a yellow flower dress and a
yellow flower cap. "You decided to go with me." I said.
"You
decided to abandon me." she said.
"I
didn't want you to leave your family."
"Fuck
that, I hate my family. I have nothing here. My brother has just
killed himself because of his guillotined girlfriend I had. All I
have is you. You're all I have left. Yet you felt you had nothing
left to give." She covered her face in a tearful shame and
regret. She got me there I suppose, I just never had a felt that was
as devoted like my first girlfriend named Dog.
"I
suppose I could give you a shoulder."
"That
would be great."
"So
where are we going to go first?" she asked, as we boarded the
room. The waitress gave us breakfast for the morning, and for me I
had always tended to drink my coffee nice and black.
"To
the local graveyard, an old friend is buried there." I said.
"Your
executed girlfriend?"
"How
did--"
"You
really talk in your sleep. But if I could be like your Anna-Marie,
that would be really great." I wasn't sure how to respond to
that, I didn't have a conversation like that sense I had last moved
to the North West. One of my friends I knew, that was my room mate
briefly when I was fleeing my parents, would talk about how I would
never ultimately compare to the friend she had known for fifteen
years. So as you could probably imagine, I didn't have the need to
break my new friend's heart.
Besides,
I loved her like family.
She
was me and Anna-Marie's child. Even if she was close to our age,
there was something about her innocence that made me feel very
protective. She had the aura of someone you would to take care of and
mother.
But
not like my mother. A mother like me.
She
kept me from ending my life.
I
was lost in a sea of digital sexuality. I would decapitate French
girls without a second thought. My sex drive rivaled the armies of
Genghis Khan, the ladies fallen Chinese warriors who I slammed the
knife down on their necks. Yet in the endless fog of dream-time,
there was a light in the forest.
There
was the sound of a innocent little girls voice, who held out her
hands for me and gave me a smile I have never received in years. It
was the face of the spirit of light in the dark, the face that
combined Anna-Marie and Lisa-Marie both like angelic sisters after
sundown. And yet there was a stitch marks on her neck, and her head
wobbled as if she were beheaded by a guillotine gun. And yet there
was something about her that could transcend other people's dreams
and hopes sharing ideas. I simply wanted my internal nightmare to
end.
She
was almost psychic. I feared the worst for my angel. I was a demon
lost in inferno. Lisa-Marie woke me up, and gently shushed me. Then
offered to rub my shoulders, hoping it would take my night terrors
away.
I
thought moving would change things.
It
only made things worse.
And
in the morning, she sang children's rhymes.
I
felt no need to rhyme today.
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