The String Affliction

A Short Story:

                 

Held up by four strings and not liable for your actions. Look up to the cross that haunts the space above, less salvation a little more damnation, who controls these idol limbs and why does the space occupying your brain hold no memory of your desire to perform.

            Oh, to be the puppet.

***

It was us against the world, two girls, different in health and design. Lucky for her she had found me at my most vulnerable, rich in knowledge and indifferent to my social status. I knew I came from class but somehow Mother's cocktail dresses never interested me. Father's ties upgraded by brand but I never found myself intrigued. In fact nothing caught my attention; I lived a life without wonder and didn't care to ask why. I was a good kid; I brushed my teeth after dinner, and closed my eyes the moment my mother kissed my forehead goodnight.

That's when Sam came in, like the fucking hurricane she is.

I was sitting in the library during lunch, reading some mundane novel when she jumped over the back of the couch and plummeted onto the cushion right beside me. "Hey Princess, names Sam. Play along."

Six words, two sentences. That's the kind of thing she was into I'd later learn- minimal explanation followed by expectations for you to believe the ocean was made of sugar water simply because she said so.  Seconds later a guy came up behind the couch I occupied and yelled, "Sam, I'm serious- why can't you just be honest for once and tell me why you're suddenly not into me anymore?"

She shrugged and winked at me, grabbing my hand in hers. "Because my best friend told me she always had a crush on you and I just can't do that to her."

I looked back at the boy in horror, blonde dark hair and a beanie- I didn't date boys let alone greasy ones. As much as I wanted to decline her statement, words wouldn't form.

"Is that true?" He asked me, hesitant- probably looking at my pressed white sweater.

I glanced back over at Sam, I knew she was in my grade but I had never encountered her before. Her eyes were boring into mine shamelessly. I was suddenly infatuated with the way her clothes looked like they were shopped for out of a previous owners dirty laundry basket- and wondered how she would feel about my diamond earrings, she hadn't looked at them yet, which I was thankful for; I might have been embarrassed if she had.      

"Yes." I breathed; I think it might have been my first lie. 

He looked between the two of us and rolled his eyes, "You're so full of it Sam."

She giggled and put a tan finger between her teeth, "Don't flatter me."

He was out the door before her venomous smile subsided and she smirked, "So you agreed? We're like best friends?"

***

"You're telling me your parents work all day and you just sit at home and do nothing?" Sam scoffed. It was summer now and she was walking around the crystal coffee table my parents had imported from Paris. She ran her fingers along the surface, I wondered if she'd ever seen real crystal. Losing interest, as fast as always, she plopped down beside me swinging her legs atop of mine. She had a habit of touching people in any way that she could. I knew this because when we had science together the year before she was caught more than once sleeping on the shoulder of a boy- by the end of the year she'd been seen cuddling up to every male in the class. She was notorious for being a flirt. Most girls reprimanded her; I never formed an opinion just watched intently from a world of my own. That being said I wasn't at all special, but I felt that way as her muddy Osiris's flaked off on the suede cushion beside me.