iCant. 12

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A/N: Fashionably late I am, I hope to finish this damn story of mine. Then maybe one day make a better one. This is a first for me, SO HI ATTENTION DISCLAIMER MUST READ: iSuggest you read the previous few chapters to understand what's going on. Please and thank you, thank you for being patient, thank you for reading, love you. I swear.


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Anonymous POV

"She saw the bag," I accuse my brainless dealer in the phone.

Ted stutters, confused. "S-she? The bag?" See, brainless. Ted isn't even his name it's just what we all call him. There's actually a funny story behind the name, he says he looks cute and cuddly but when he opens his mouth he is a ruthless killing machine. I think that's his way of trying to hide the fact that he feels a sense of coolness, when someone calls him after a movie character.

"Our own Queen Royalty, who has switched places with her daughter, defied the workings of fairytale books, and is playing Sleeping Beauty in her potential death bed. Yeah, her? Her daughter's little stray dog found your little tokens," I'm leaning behind one of the walls of the girl hosting the party's house. The stray I was referring to, who sometimes likes to show up at school in her onesie is being woken up by the school fuck boy. Cup in hand; good. She deserves to taste a little bit of life's bitter medicine for sleeping at a party, with no lookout. 

Is this worry you're feeling, mate?  I shake my own thoughts out of my head but not without leaving a 'no.'

"...What? Dude, was that even English? Since when did I have tokens? Bro!" Ted continues on asking me, having obviously failed to see my attempt of trying to speak in code so that we don't get caught. Heaving out a tired sigh I explain it to him in his definition of English.

"Rich lady dying in hospital, her daughter's bffl saw your 4.20 supply and it's all your fault." Erupt fit of laughter is emitted from the receiver. I clench my jaw and mutter, "Keep on the lookout man, you know I can't afford you to be like this," with that, I hung up.

I see the fuck boy accidentally brush against the weirdo's butt, my jaw tightens. Accident my ass. It's not long before the bag the girl had seen, dismissed it into the trash. I could tell she could've eaten it but if I too where a hopeless, brainless girl who enjoyed candy and saw those squished animals, would have sent them straight to trash. The sound of a broad engine picking up momentum keeps me rooted on my spot until the sound disappears, and when my queue comes I use big boy foot steps and grab the bag out of the trash. Slipping it in my back pocket, my feet start leading me down the long brick-tiled driveway, left to where the less lighted suburb is, and down the road. 

It's not long before my mind starts listing all the things that could potentially go wrong, what I could lose if this plan all goes to pits. Once I've stopped hearing my feet hitting against the pavement but instead gravel, I make a sharp right to the broken down park, it had missing swings and the little pit was devoid of any of the cliche bark that's normally laid out. I fumble through my pockets and once the plastic material is felt, its dropped on the ground. Reaching into my boots my fingers grasp my lighter, watching the bag as if it was the most interesting thing since sliced bread, I crouch down into a man-squat and light the damn thing up. 

People don't realize how satisfying it is to destroy something. Watching it burn and coil up, deformed from its natural state, something that used to be beautiful, loved, and innocent. Completely undeserving, and that's what made it all satisfying. Just like all things, the remnants of the bag had turned into a black gooey and ashy mess. As usual, I walkaway and leave no trace of my appearance after a job well done. 

The obnoxious shrieking from teenagers in a car whizz past me, almost making me choke on my own throat. I keep my cool and poise, attracting no attention to myself and head deeper into the dark streets, that's where home is. 


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Ida's POV

Ducking my head, I make my way to the back of the house, praying to all the ass gods to watch out for my backside; praying that the doors where unlocked. For once in my life something went right for me and it was, pushing the sliding door ajar, I force myself to squeeze the small space I created for myself. Wiggling my shoes, I move from the garage and to the stairway. Dad's study seemed to have moved from upstairs to the living room, which had the door shut. Not wasting my chances I lightly sprint to my room, regretting not having been able to go through my night routine and head straight for bed. 

Sike, I get on my phone. Refreshing my messages constantly even though I won't get any. Raegan where are you...


It's dark but all my senses where still aware of my surroundings, which were very hard to identify. What comes next is a loud slap, images of my mom with a stick, belt, wet towel, dad swinging his fists and not towards a punching bag. 

I gasp awake like a fish out of water, a scream lodged in my throat unable to speak up. My heart is alert and pumping too much blood and its all rushing to my head. I can't think, I don't know where I am, I don't know if I'm even awake. The little sensation of my thigh being pinched assures me, but barely. I shift my eyes to the red dots and it reads 6am. It dawns on me that I wasn't being slapped, but the slap did come from outside my room and had been transfixed into my dream.

There's crying on one end. I steady my feet and head outside of my room, I don't notice my bag on the floor that had been opened and is vomiting its contents out. I need to pee. My feet pad through the soft carpet and when I push the bathroom door open my eyes are still squinting and fail me to see the chaos occurring. Mom is slapping my sisters back, lightly, trying to make her spit something out. Dad is on the phone calmly talking to someone, yet his grip on the phone says anything but calm.

My eyes shift to the bathroom floor instinctively to check that my brother hasn't pigged it out again, and that's when they widen. The floor is a rainbow. Scattered gummy bears everywhere, looking more porcelain than the normal ones. Mom is in hysterics.

"Spit it out baby, right now", she begs. My sisters eyes are filled with so much liquid that it's impossible that it could be from the water she was being bathed in. Her tears and screams are drowning and becoming quieter. Her breathing is just slowing down and I'm stood there, unable to do anything as my world is falling apart, breath by breath.

Then it all just stopped. She slackens in my mom's arms and she just screams. Dad runs down to get his keys, I'm rushing to my sisters' aid but mom flinches her child away from me.

"You did this, " she spits.

"What?" I'm so confused.

"Why did you bring that candy? Why are you always spending your money on such useless things? Where did you get it from? " She is drilling me with questions and I haven't yet even processed the unfolding events.

My shoulders sag defeated, too tired to go on my knees and cry, my sister isn't moving, I don't know if she's even breathing. "...I-I don't know." 

"You have really done it this time, Ida." She lifts my sister's body from the now cold water, loops her in a towel and whispers sweet comforting words to her child as she follows the same route dad took. I guess they were taking her to the car.

Please wake up, please be a dream. A shaky breath escapes my crusty lips, I heave- my body is flat against the cold bathroom floor and my cheeks are tickled by my tears. 

Let it be a dream, wake up. 

A voice that doesn't sound like mine chokes, "I'm wide awake."

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⏰ Last updated: Aug 11, 2019 ⏰

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