Survival Team: Kill Or Be Killed (**On Hold**)

Chapter Two: Abby's POV

Thursday: Day 2

"There is always room for love; you just have to move a few things around."

                    -Anonymous

I sat on my bed and stared at my feet. My toenails could use a clipping, I thought, and my legs could use some slimming.

I could feel my dirty blonde, thick hair in its usual bun start to loosen, probably due to the fact that I had just been doing crunches like a madwoman.

I closed my eyes and sighed slowly, trying to slow my heart rate down and cool my face off. Even in the basement, it could get steamy.

I swung my legs over the edge of my bed and let them dangle, fighting the nearly irresistible urge to look at my thighs. I closed my eyes and could feel my face scrunch up as a tear slipped out from the corner of my eye. Deep breaths, I lectured as I forced myself to inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth.

I slid off my lumpy mattress and turned my DVD player on, followed by the fairly decent television behind it. I let my eyes look at the posters hung on my wall. Every single one of them was of my favorite band, but I didn’t mind.

I tried not to be melodramatic as I thanked the band for saving my life and I turned my mini lamp off, climbing back into my bed and slithering under the comfort of my blanket.

I tried to ignore the fact that I could feel my thighs touching as I wriggled over to pick up the small black remote. Picking it up, I press PLAY and snuggle into my pillow and watch Bella struggle to walk in the high heels for her wedding.

I close my eyes and silently pray God to not let me wake up the next morning.

~*~

I woke up to the sound of my mom’s footsteps treading down the creaky, wooden stairs. I pretended to sleep a while longer until she approached me and shook me.

“Abby, time to wake up.”

I struggled to hide my arm as I rolled onto my back with my eyes squinting open to show her that I was awake. With satisfaction she goes back in the direction she came from, upstairs, without saying another word.

I stared at the ceiling and sighed. I knew God wasn’t real, he was just a phony. Why did I have to wake up? Why couldn’t I have just mysteriously died in my sleep?

I reach out and grab my iPod off of my bureau, ignoring the scars on my arm, and check the time. 6:13. I didn’t actually have to get up until 6:30 if I skipped breakfast, which I was evidently going to do.

I unlock my iPod and check Twitter, checking my interactions. None. I swipe my thumb over and check my DMs. Also none. I frown internally and lock it again, putting it back down and closing my eyes.

“You up?” my mom calls from upstairs.

“Yeah,” I croak, waiting until I hear her footsteps going up upstairs to actually get out of bed.

I picked up a pair of jeans off my bedroom floor and slid into them, and then picked up a shirt at random and slithered into it. It didn’t matter what I wore, I was invisible.

After re-doing my signature bun and slipping into my over-worn sweatshirt, I make my way up the stairs, checking the time on the digital clock in the living room. 6:47. How long had my eyes been closed?

I walk lightly into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror for a moment, ignoring the disgusted look the girl in the mirror makes, and pick up my toothbrush and tooth paste, lopping on a decent amount of paste onto the brush.