Drafts, Mini-stories and Excerpts

I Don't Care

"I don't care."

Her voice was ice and stinging venom. Blood would be poison my blood with the cold, making me frigid. Always hitting so deep. It wasn't toxic, it was just out of resentment and cynicalness.

I don't blame her. I genuinely couldn't blame her for being emotionally detached. It wasn't her fault. With the parasite stuck to her soul, I would be bitter and emotionless and disconnected and careless and hot-

Actually, I don't know if that's why she's hot but I do know it only makes me want to unravel her more. I would never give up on her or turn my back to her.

Some call me brave or crazy because I'm willing to follow the a girl that would cause all the banshees, monsters, gods, Jesus & even Satan himself to warn me to stay away. She dances with death and hatred respectively, her ghost hair follows her intricate footwork on top of the floor of bodies.

She doesn't discriminate.

Whenever I try to talk to her- hell even approach her- her first and usual response is "I don't care." Sometimes she would add in a "stop bothering me.", "you're wasting both of our time." or "you're distracting me.". Nevertheless, I was stubborn and kept going.

People say she'll kill me, yet she doesn't. I believe she just needs someone to reach out, someone willing to reach pass the thorns, leeches & claws and icy insults.

The only person willing to hear me out and trust me enough is her supposed enemy.

Then again, if a infection seeped into her and has been echoing in a head since she was a child; I can't be surprised if she doesn't know better.

It's funny actually, you can see it in her eyes- actually her one eye that I can see in from of the shadows created by her bangs. From staring at her silver eyes a lot, they were glossy, breathtaking, clear yet drained; completely drained of color. You could see the black creeping up from the bottom of the iris, like tiny vines trying to latch on her the rest of her enchanting eyes. Even with they illuminating at night time, in the darkness or even when sharpening her eyes to glare or simply stare at me as if I'm a bore; you could see the outline of black laying there.

The parasite doesn't have complete control over her though. One time, she sat there and allowed me to talk her ear off, and in my defense it was to answer a complicated question.

"Can you tell me where a food establishment is?"

Trust me, it requires plenty of context to answer that question. From quality, food preference, costumer service and location. I rest my case.

Though.... there was a time where she did almost kill me. It was my fault thought. I was being a pest, bugging her to her breaking point.

I must say before I countinue, she's a very patient one.

She told me to leave her alone (first red flag), she growled (second flag), she spat at me to be quiet after inciting her & I tried to pry into her personal life (AKA her backstory). Before I knew it, my back was on the ground, cheek & shoulder was cut (a deep one to note) and a blood-dripping spear was praically stabbing at my throat. All the while she stood above me, gritting her teeth in frustration and the scariest glare I've ever seen. A very low yet auditable growl emitted through her teeth. Her silver eyes burning  vehemently, the black in her eyes grew temporarily and if it's not obvious yet, I saw both of her eyes.

My heart stopped at the sight before resuming, causing me skip a breath and take a deeper breath. I actually thought I was going to die.

Yet she also looked... hurt.. Somehow. There was no real indication that people would believe. No sign of a speck of a tear, no wide eyes, her hand wasn't shaking as she held the spear, no lip-biting and eyebrows were furrowed beyond belief. But I could tell she was hurt, like I should of known better....

"Leave me alone. I don't care about you. And you have no right to speak to me. I hate you & will continue to. Stop pestering me about shit."

I did know better, I was asking for it.... I'm sorry...

I told my friend, she freaked out a little, eyes widening when wrapping the bandages around my arm (even though she could of just healed me in a blink of a eye but still-), grimaced and told me to stop communicating to her (who even says communicate now-).

But I still refused. I learned my boundaries but kept pursuing. People keep telling me, including her (no as deadly as before) but I refuse. And it's simply out of the fact that she looks hurt.

For her to look hurt means she thought I knew her & her expectations of me. Or at least thought she knew me & was smart enough to know her limits. In simplest terms, she believed we had a connection, maybe not strong or the best, but we had a relationship of some sort & I'm not a buzzing fly in her ear.

I might be reading into it too much.... but, I don't care, I love her more than anything in the world. Even if she tries to kill me, I will be there for her.