Criticize my writing.

Last On Earth (dystopian)

Angie burned the cig into the old oak desk.

"Sean, darling, you seem like a real nice guy. I'm sure of it, but I really have to decline your offer, babe."

"Oui, luv. No need to be shy round' me darlin... We can ditch and go have some real fun." He brings a charred hand up to tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

"I'm flattered, but I'm going to have to say no Sean."

He scoffed. "What? Cause' I'm a hustler darlin? Do I disgust you?"

"At the moment."

The girl takes her leave, grabbing her maroon backpack handbag and shoving past the taller of the two. Her arm brushes against his and she cringes once she realizes the rotten flakes of flesh dangling off the front of her sweater sleeve.

"The hell las?"

The Damned weren't pretty. That's what Angie called them. They were the grotesque images of the people she once knew, not really them of course. Sure they acted the same, dressed the same, hung out with the same people, but these weren't the people she once knew. The Damned had freakishly orange skin, boils, blisters, gashes and scars across every crevice of their body. Her mother didn't have a scar running from her forehead to the crease of her eye, Sean's lips hadn't been burnt to ashen leather. Mrs. Tempke hadn't been missing a damned leg! Angie couldn't imagine how this could have happened, but she didn't question it. After all, this was the new normal.

"Mum? Where's my golden girl?" Angie called out, taking off her coat and hanging it quickly against the wall. She took a quick drag of her cig before throwing it into the bin.

"Here darlin," "Can you get me the knittin kneels?"

Angie kicked off her shoes and called out,

"Yah, mum. Know where they are?"

"Not recently dear, no. Sorry luv."

"No problem mum." The teen looked around for the knitting needles, finding them on the dining room table before handing them gently to her mother.

"Tell me where you put em' next time."

"Mmm. You smell like alcohol." the elder observed, raising a brow at her youngest daughter.

"Some annoying guy tryin' to get into my pants. Don' worry mum, bastard's harmless from what I can tell." The elder nodded in approval.

"Mum? Is anything different to you? Something seems off to me."

The elder took a minute to reply,

"No luv, is something bothering you? Want to talk about it?"

"Not now at least."

School was the last place Angie wanted to be right now, especially since she had to specifically avoid touching everyone in the hall since the rotting flesh seemed especially drawn to her black hoodie. Ever since the change, everybody acted normal. But she was really uncomfortable right now. She could feel the eyes of her classmates drifting a little too long. She could feel how they distanced themselves in the halls during passing time. Maybe everything was settling back to normal?

"Hello darlin, miss me?"

"Sean," "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Only if it means there's something in it for...." Sean was dragged away and off of school grounds quickly.

"At least warn me when you're going to break my darn wrist, woman."

"Why do you look like that?"

"Handsome? There's a couple of factors-"

"No! Your skin, the peeling, the decay. What is this? A joke Sean?"

"Angie, darlin. Listen to me," He grabbed the panicking teens wrists tightly "do you know me?"

"Sean, stop with your damn games. You won, okay? Making me a fool front of everyone?"

"Do I look familiar to you. Do you know me?"

"Of course I do...you..."

"You do, but you don't really know me Angie. You need to come to your senses, darlin."

Angie closes her eyes, the pounding in her skull increasing.

"You're giving me a headache, Sean."

She inhales deeply but quickly starts having coughing fits, dust swirling around her.

"Sean?"

She opens her eyes and puts a hand up to her temple, rubbing slightly. She was in a room. Maybe she passed out. She looked around, confused. There were piles of rubble and drywall everywhere, and you could see through to the next apartment complex through the holes in the walls.

"Sean? You ok?" Angie noticed something.

A sickly orange colored hand underneath an armchair right across from herself. She gagged and emptied the contents of her stomach beside her. She sniffled and rubbed her dirt covered face with the back of her hand.

It didn't really surprise her that it was a sickly yellow color. Maybe mum was alive. Maybe this was a dream inside of a dream, right?

The girl sighed shakily and leaned back into the couch cushions and closed her eyes.

That ended quickly when there was an eerie knock on the door...

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I know, this kind of sucked. I wrote this at around nine when the assignment was due the next day. I'm a procrastinator and I'm not proud of it. Please help me improve, it would mean the world to me. 

:v