Necrophobia

Tag, you're it.

It almost seemed unreal, the path in which Marilyn's life was going down, almost. The road she traveled down day by day seemed to be made up of nothing but illusion, as if the dirt and stone she walked upon was starting to disintegrate right from underneath her feet.

But she knew it was real, deep down she knew everything that has happened was hauntingly real, and there was no illusion. If only it was the latter.

Marilyn didn't dare go near any needle since that strange moment, a few days ago. She couldn't bear the thought of going through that ever again. The pain, the confusion, and the horror was just too much to handle.

Her fear of the unexplained made withdrawals seem childish. She could handle the physical exhaustion withdrawal symptoms put on her, just as long as she didn't have to hear his devilish laugh mocking her just as he did so many times before.

But something told her, that the drug wasn't for fault.

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"Ahh Marilyn, you have to tell us."

Marilyn's head swooned in the direction of her friend, Marcy.

"hmm" she replied with equal interest of her other two friends in the room, Stacy and Margaret.

It was late, and Marilyn would have probably already have been asleep in bed by now if it weren't for company, but in the horribly loneliness of night came a knock on her front door. Truth be told, Marilyn wasn't going to answer it. At such a time at night, no one would be knocking at her door , no one with any good intentions. She stood, staring at the front door with a certain caution in stance.

It wasn't until she heard the second knock, and a loud voice she gladly recognized, "Marilyn, we know you're in there, answer the door." That chills stopped running down her spine. Still she was reluctant to answer the door.

When she opened the door, she found herself face to face with the only few people she trusted her secrets with. Though, even with them, some secrets were better off hidden.

Marilyn was just relieved to see them and not someone else.

"you have to tell us... was he a good screw?'

The tiny chitter chatter that hung in the air vanished, and everyone was waiting for an answer.

"Um- I- um" Marilyn's tongue was caught in-between her teeth suddenly, and she was stumbling for words.

It was just so unexpected, kind of like a punch in the face, only she couldn't rebound back from.

"W-Who?" Marilyn felt foolish because she knew exactly who.

"Oh c'mon, don't you play dumb, Harry!" Marcy leaned froward, anticipating just like the others.

Marilyn's body shuddered just at the mention of his name, "Ahh well.." she trailed off. They had never slept together, Marilyn made sure of that. Though there were times when his hands had slid down to her thighs and roamed father and father down. And there were times when Marilyn had so desperately wished they were someones else's. She always stopped them, making sure that he didn't get too ahead of himself, though this was Harry Caldwell we are talking about.

"He's just so handsome- oops, was." Marcy laughed out at her own joke, Stacy and Margaret giggling by her side.

It was a cruel and sadistic play on words, and any other time Marilyn would have joined them laughing, but she felt pained at laughing at such a matter anymore. Like it was an old joke, fruitless and dried out.