Eat!

2 ~ Eaten Alive

Sam

Sometimes I really wish I could sleep at night.

Headaches and stomach cramps were just a few of the symptoms that came with my pills. The tossing and turning left my bed covers damp with sweat and strewn across the floor in an almost artistic fashion. So I didn’t sleep much, not with the pills coursing through my veins, and of course, now I had something else to keep me awake.

Alice.

Skinny, insecure, beautiful, Alice. People should tell her that more often. She was beautiful, but for some reason she couldn’t see it. She didn’t have to tell me she hated herself; it was written all over her face. The question was – what caused her to be like that? Ask her I mentally noted. Kicking aside old tees with funny slogans on them, I picked up a green one with a bloodsucking bunny on the front.

No points for manliness there, I thought to myself, but yanked it over my head anyway. If I got jumped by a vampire, at least he would stop and laugh at my t-shirt. Besides, it’s not like I could find anything else in this dump.

Speaking of not being able to find anything, where the hell was my guitar?

I tossed aside the takeaway cartons and shifted boxes full of I-don’t-know-what until I saw the battered wooden edge of my guitar. I slid it out from under the crumpled sheets of off-white sheet music, and lifted it onto my lap.

Checking my watch, I realised I didn’t have time to play…

My fingers were tingling with anticipation, which seemed stupid because I had been playing for over 7 years. Nevertheless, the strings felt pleasantly cool under my fingers. I strummed a chord, and within minutes I was playing:

“I wish I was special

You’re so fucking special.”

The apartment fell silent after the last words were sung, and even though no-one was watching, I felt a strange feeling in my heart, like someone was gripping it.

I slung my guitar on my back, put on my black work jeans and clicked open the door.

It was only when I got in the car that I realized I was singing for Alice, and she was starting to gain a steady grip on my heart…

**********

I pulled up outside the book store with my car still spluttering in protest. Getting a new one probably wasn’t such a bad idea, but the thing is, you get attached to things you’ve had for a long time.

With a sigh, I walked in to what was, unfortunately, the bane of my existence.

My job: in a book store.

“Morning, Stan!” I called. Stan sort of owned the place, but he didn’t act like it. He was the awesome boss everyone wanted to have; relaxed, and cool as a cucumber. I breathed in a deep breath, getting a lung full of new book smell. It’s not half bad actually. Maybe that was the reason I stayed here instead of getting a ‘proper’ job.

Unfortunately for my dad, that’s not a good enough excuse. To him, dropping out of college made me less of a person.

Stan acknowledged my presence with a loud clang and some swearing so vulgar my grandmother would have dropped dead.

Yeah, cool.

I leapt over the desk and rested the guitar next to me with a hollow clunk. Taking some of the new books in my arms, I stood on the desk and slid them onto the shelves above. Beside me, the origami animals swayed in the breeze. After all the books were put away, I quite literally sat there and twiddled my thumbs.