Lake Caroline

1. Tangled In My Own Intestines

"Do you believe in aliens?"

...

"You should."

- Anonymous

A long, dark, gritty narrow asphalt. The night was quiet. It's always quiet here. But for the first time in 80 years... there was something so eerie about the calm hush that progressed through the town.

Hands...

Hands of a white male. They gripped the arms of a fragile girl. His large hands made her appear like a plushie bear in his grasp. He shoved her into a bedroom dresser and a loud thump shook the room.

You would feel a goosebump-vibration in your chest had you been in that horror house.

The girl stammered to her feet as she walked into a punch in the jaw.

"You stupid, Bitch! Where the fuck is my phone?"

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Brock Pridewood.

Now, Brock is a female abuser, homophobe, and probably a racist when no one's looking. He has a two-parent household and lives in one of those big houses you'd see at the beginning of a cliche horror movie.

Now Brock may seem threatening here, but be reminded he's a high school football player, so of course that makes him a jock with a low IQ, a short penis roughly 4 1/2 inches with pink balls, and likely no bush. Anyway-

"I knew you were cheating on me, Brock! I knew you were fucking her!" Elizabeth screamed, who was known as Lizzy in school and well... pretty much around town. No one actually called her Elizabeth.

"I saw the messages in your phone." Lizzy started to tear up and you could hear the emotional wreckage fading into her words as her voice began to break.

"What is it that she has that I don't? What am I missing?"

"The fuck are you talking about? You're fucking delusional give me my phone Lizzy. I'll show you no one is texting me." Brock's irritation started to grow over him. He could hit her again.

"I can't do this anymore. I'm done."

"What does that mean," Brock seemed alarmed and more concerned. This is new.

"I can't keep doing this. It's not you. It's me. I keep letting you abuse me, use me, fuck me over, and treat me like shit just like everyone else."

Brock is lost for words.

"I thought you were different. We're done." Lizzy takes his phone out of her pocket.

"Let's see what other chick you'll text." Lizzy takes a lamp from the dresser and slams it down onto the phone, fracturing the screen.

"No!" Brock was practically screaming. He ran to his phone like a 3-year-old child. Lizzy wiped her bloody nose and walked out of the room.

"Lizzy wait!"

Running...

She was running now and sped down the stairs like an athlete practicing for an annual race. She reached the entryway of his parent's home and swung open the front door.