she rubs her hands together, her lips paled on a thin line. she shivers once her still numb hands touch the body of whiskey to pour down her empty champagne glass, watches as the vent leaks the sweet taste of alcohol in the transparent container. her head is tilted sidewards, resting down against her arm supported by her folded knees, watching the liquid. she watches, stares, looks, and never notices it trickling down her carpeted floor until she feels it flooding her frozen toes.
it's finally winter.
and it's cold. it's crispy. it's dark. it's lonely.
or maybe, it's just jennie's room.
or it's just who she wants to be.
she drinks the sweet liquor in one go at the thought, not a reaction coming out of her. she's silent, and her pale lips are on a thin line, and she does not know what to do.
maybe she does, but she does not want to.
"what if..."
she clenches her small fist around the neck of the bottle. her heart is beating slowly, as if she's not even living however the throbbing pain reassures her she is. she throws the bottle weakly against the wall. it shatters.
she stares dumbly onto the twinkling shards of glass, hating the illumination from the moonlight. so she stands up, groans, and walks onto glass just to deprive her sight completely. "ah."
it hurts. but it's not that much. why so?
jennie goes back to her carpeted floor and settles herself, finding the glass of whiskey with her hand. without any light, it was a struggle. but she caught it. not enough to drink it. it shatters again.
she whimpers and closes her thighs together, presses them against her chest, and hugs herself. she pats herself. she feels herself. she just needs...just a little bit...the reassurance that she wants. not the society, not her parents, not her friends. she just wants to call her.
have you ever thought of calling when you have had a few? 'cause i always do.
jennie lets the ticking sound of her clock invade her, she lets everything invade her mind and her chest and her soul just so she would not be thinking like this, so she would not be thinking about it, so she would not be thinking about anything at all.
but you can't always have everything you want, right?
it tickles, it prickles, and it's both and it's more and it's bleeding from a thousand paper cuts. it stings but it's hammering and it's throbbing. it feels like all painful death combined into one. it's her name that she wishes she had. she wishes that she isn't hers. she wishes that she is her. god, she just wants to be rosé.
because i'm sick of asking and asking and asking myself every night like a broken record if i could be her.
and it's pathetic, really, that she still wishes lisa would look at her the same way that she does, even when she's doing it to someone else.
jennie traces the pooling liquid not fully absorbed by her carpet, trying to find the broken pieces of the glass. it cuts a finger or two, and she doesn't wince. she digs her fingers deeper like a fish wanting to die, until it's deep enough to elicit a cry from her.
she stands up with a throbbing skull, blinking a few times to heighten her vision. she stares at the couch a little too long, lets the memories unfold, and remembers the name from her lips, and her wish that will never be fulfilled.
she proceeded to her room.
it's cold. it's crispy. it's dark. it's lonely.
the moon shines brighter in jennie's bedroom, giving a glow of silver and white in her reflection in her full body mirror. she stares at herself.
YOU ARE READING
break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored.
Fanfictionbeing first in line does not mean you are one to get picked, jennie knows that. but she still have lisa wrapped around her fingers, and that's what only matters. or lisa knows it isn't right cheating on her girl, but jennie doesn't care. top!jenni...
