Annihilation

Chapter 11

You are your croaky morning voice, and the smiles you try to hide, You're the sweetness in your laughter, and every tear you've cried.

You're the songs you sing so loudly when you know you're all alone, you're the places that you've been to, and the one that you call your home.

You're the things that you believe in, and the people that you love, you're the photos in your bedroom, and the future you dream of.

You're made of so much beauty, but it seems that you forgot...When you decided that you were defined, by all the things you're not.

-e.h.

MEGAN

Megan lets out an exasperated sigh as the umpteenth item from her now empty closet is flung on the floor by a real-life just as handsome and annoying version of Bar-wait for it-ney. How she got here remains a mystery even to her own mind.

She mindlessly reaches out into a box of chocolate truffles. Yeah, that's right. All of this had happened because of these little suckers. You see, Megan had very meticulously planned how she was gonna spend her weekend. It included just her and her not-so-comfy bed, after all, sleep to her had always been a kind of drug, her bed was her shady dealer and her alarm clock was the police.

All in all, it was a great plan that might have even passed for nirvana on a bad day, but it had all gone to shit when Megan's second vice had reared its ugly head up.

Food. It wanted, no demanded, food. And not even your regular meal, it would only be satisfied with Mcdonalds and those delicious jaw-dropping, saliva-spilling truffles. It roared and writhed inside her until she couldn't ignore it any longer. She couldn't take it anymore, the sweet torturous craving, but, she also didn't wanna break-up with her bed, so she did a very cursed thing, she played with her sense of self-preservation which pretty much  went up in flames the second she picked up her phone and dialed a number she never asked for. She called Jackson.

It has been a hurricane ever since. He took one look at her in her sleep-a-sauras jammies and decided that he couldn't let "My best friend rot in her own sloth ".And that was how she was informed that they were going clubbing for the weekend.
Then he decided to pick out her clothes for just that because apparently, her fashion sense was "akin to that of an old senile lady who thought she was funny, basically the female version of Mr. Heckles" in his own gracious words. And that's how her room ended up looking like a thrift store had vomited all over it.

Plopping another truffle in her mouth she lets out a sigh. After all this, she still didn't regret the truffles. I mean its chocolate! How does anyone begrudge chocolate? It's just not possible.

As another piece of clothing flies overhead and Megan contemplates murdering her newly acquired friend. Where would she hide the body though? Now that's a good question. How about in a newly dug grave in a cemetery? No one will ever suspect it, it would be so smooth and easy. She'll just have to get rid of all that blood and DNA. She seriously doubted that anyone would miss hi-

That line of thought was how Megan ended with a mouthful of cotton. Removing the white top that had hit her in the face, Megan glared at Jackson, who in turn looked like he was on the verge of throwing a tantrum while having a nervous breakdown. "You have nothing to wear!" Jack screams in an exaggeratedly annoyed shout.