Black Sheep

And in the words of Olivia Rodrigo, I quote...

"Please hold on!" A voice urged. 

That voice urged. 

I'm back, the orange purple sky my backdrop, a bloody murder scene my stage, and playing the murderer is my role."Ser", the voice groans as it vigorously shakes my body. Above me, I can make out the blurry silhouette of a boy. His blond locks feel like soft cotton against my skin and I relish in their ticklish feel. His all-too-familiar eyes are glassy with unshed tears yet he's not the same person- his eyes are full of anguish not lifeless. 

"Don't please", I croak, I don't want you to be sad. 

I want to cup your cheek and caress your cheekbones with my thumb assuring you that everything will be fine; that your twin will survive.

That I'll survive. 

I want to watch you lean into my touch and believe me despite knowing I'm lying. 

"Ser, please!" He shrieks desperately and I feel a tear roll down my cheek. He sounds so desperate like he needs me. Like I need him. "I lost you once, I can't lose you again!" He wraps his arms around my body pulling me into his lap as he presses his jacket against the wound on the back of my head to stop the bleeding. 

I want to tell you to tend to your brother, to go see him. I'll survive but he needs you. He'll die and as if on cue my head lols back, allowing my eyes to meet his gorgeous blue ones. 

His eyes are still as lifeless as ever but etched on his face is a grin. 

A grin as wide as the galaxy. 

"Ser! Please! Look at me!" He demands, his voice unstable and cracking. 

I want to ask you why you're crying? I live, don't I? He raises my head, cradling me in his chest as he yells for someone to help him. Anyone to save his brother and me. 

I want to cry and beg you to stop. I want you to stop sounding so distraught. I want to kiss you and hold you. Thank you and beg you to smile. Please! Please! Please don't cry. Live!

A random stranger in my dream, a stranger yet so familiar. Your face is unrecognizable yet you bring such warmth to my heart. I don't know you yet I long for you. My heart bleeds for you. I'm desperate for your happiness so why are you so unhappy? What can I do to make you stop crying? To recognize you? To find you and make you smile? 

I lay limp in his arms, my heart swelling with the urge to envelope myself in his embrace. And as if my body follows my heart and not my brain, my body lurches forward on its own accord and I weakly wrap my arms around his neck. His eyes are wide with unbridled astonishment and his lips are parted yet his mind is still searching for a coherent response. 

He shakes his head at me and presses his lips to my temple. "Why Ser? Why him? Why not me?" As he begins to disappear I press my lips to his until there's nothing but a dark black void, staring back at me. 

My oxygen- my reason to live. I waited for you for so long, yet now you're gone... 

I sit upright in bed, the intense throbbing in my skull from before has dissipated. It felt like a terrorist crawled in there and set off an atomic bomb. Like, do I look like freaking Hiroshima to you? I don't wanna be bombed, go bomb Donald Trump. I personally don't think terrorists give a rats ass about who they bomb and murder. 

I comb my hands through my hair. It's a bird's nest. I wonder how Sleeping Beauty slept for like a thousand years but still woke up with a perfect hairdo. Like too-much-hairspray much? Or too much freezing time much? Cause, honey you slept for a hundred years but still looked like your 16-year-old self with the perfect hairdo, zero eye crust, and dry skin and your prince charming was still the same guy like he didn't age. 

And in the words of Olivia Rodrigo, I quote...

"What the fuck is up with that?" 

If Sleeping Beauty started selling her beauty tips, the cosmetic industry would be out of business, like hun, how do you sleep for a hundred years and end up waking wrinkle-free? Disney makes zero sense sometimes, I often prefer the darker version. Aside from sharing her beauty tips, she's in dire need of a therapist who can knock the idea of consent into her head. Like I don't mind being kissed by a hot prince but at least not when I'm sleeping. 

I throw an ugly maroon sweater over my tank top. Remind me again, why I thought maroon complimented my eyes when I knitted this piece of garbage? 

Garbage- how harsh.

I can't help the involuntary gasp that escapes my lips when I step out of my room. Xavier had his arms lazily wrapped around Caitlyn's waist as she straddled him. Her brown hair became a shiny curtain, concealing their faces from me as she shoved her tongue down his throat. For the first time in forever, I'm glad that silky shower-clogging monstrosity exists because it's protecting my innocence. 

I need my hobi water. Sinful sounds fill the room and I resist the urge to gag. I mean it's going to be a daily occurrence right, so why should I mind. I press my lips into a thin line at the sight in front of me. Xavier will always do this, I mean bad boys- the textbook stereotype. He's going to hook up with everything that walks and I should get used to it. It's none of my business what he does or who he hooks up with. As much as I try, I can't shake off the pangs of pain in my chest. 

If this is how it's going to be, at least give me a warning before you do something like this. Maybe it's time to set some ground rules. I sidestep around the couple who are too engrossed in their pleasure to notice me until my gaze falls on Caitlyn's lacy black bra. No wonder Austin made fun of me for having such cheap taste in underwear like that shit had to be lacy. 

Ughh, I rather not wear anything because lacy bras are a truckload of translucent crap that barely cover anything. 

Another thing that puts me off about their make-out session is where they're doing it. Like on the couch? Seriously?

Xavier's room is like, two feet away so curb your sexual desires, and don't be so lazy. I live here, too you know. I clear my throat and that gets Caitlyn flinching so hard she nearly falls off his lap but Xavier's too quick and catches her. 

And there goes my fantasy of seeing Caitlyn's bloody brain splattered all over the tiled floor.