Part of a Complete Breakfast // Kay, Nyte

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P A R I A H F E R
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Last night was rough.

I can't remember exactly what happened, as my mind is like a foggy haze, but I can tell you, it was rough. Blaring sirens and bright lights, the forest whizzing by as I (or we, I think I remember voices) ran through it. Laughter, more alcohol, always more alcohol, always. Narrowly refusing a cigarette because my morals weren't completely out of whack, and cause i'd seen those pictures of lungs as black as coal in school, and i'd made the decision to never smoke at that exact moment.

I'd woken up this morning with puke on my shirt (it isn't mine, I don't think, which makes it even grosser), and my head pounding like there was a construction site inside my mind. My throat as dry as the desert, desperately calling out for water except I didn't have the mental capacity to will my body to move at the moment. Instead, I groaned and massaged my temples, laying in my bed for a few minutes (or an hour, whichever one seems more logical) before getting up too fast and stumbling into my dresser, vision spotty and blurry.

I think it serves to show how much willpower I have against peer pressure in the fact that i'd told myself to have no more than three drinks, even wrote it on my hand in black sharpie and scribbly writing. "So much for that rule".

I cringe every time the spoon i'm using hits a bit too hard against the glass bowl i'm using, soggy pieces of cereal drowning in low-fat 1% milk or whatever it was called nowadays. I can relate, cereal. I'm drowning too, just not in milk.. Because I was drowning myself, with decisions and alcohol and changes and peer-pressure. I needed a lifesaver, or floatie armbands if I was feeling devious.

I tell myself not to look up as a pair of footsteps echoes through the house, creaky floorboards shouting each time he steps on them. I already know who it is, years of living with Tsara allowing my ears to recognize the sound of his footsteps and his soft sighs as the fridge is opened and nothing is in there.

My eyes drift upwards from the bowl, and I hold back a sigh, spoon hitting the cereal bowl a bit too hard and sending shooting pains through my skull. The thing of a sibling is at the fridge, dressed in a full blown nightgown, his latest decision during his rampage of overnight changes.

Saying something'll only make it worse

"Bite your tongue"

"Don't start something"

"The fuck are you wearing a nightgown for, Tsara? You look ridiculous" The words are venomous, laced with a poison so potent it could kill any man, any creature.

"Ridiculous, just like every outfit you wear these days."

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[admin kay]

[presto]

I'm hungry.

That's my crime.

I try to be quiet quiet as a mouse, which is such a wonderful phrase, because you don't need to know anything about that mouse, except that the mouse is. I tip toe and avoid the worst of the sagging boards. The fridge door squeaks if you are too rough, but I am gentle, beseeching. That's not enough to charm some food onto the shelves. I sigh. My stomach rumbles.

And then I freeze.

I grip each side of my the nightgown I have borrowed, clutching it for support. I can't turn around just yet. I don't have to face him; no, I have to stare him down. When I'm ready. I hear him but I am not listening. There's too much venom already in the world. I refuse to believe my own brother has ingested some of it. And truly, I had not meant to be a show. I'd forgotten. I was hungry. How can there be so much indignity in such a basic need? It gnaws at me, turning organs to ash and bones to dust. Nothing can be more painful than hunger. That steels me.

I turn, releasing the folds of the nightgown as I go. It is a lovely thing, flowing and easy and graceful. Everything I am not. I lift my chin and meet Pariah's gaze. "It's just something I sleep in. Don't get your panties in a twist about it."

TSARA FER

thirteen
district three
trans


lol coding
wow this pic is huge
soz for the delay[/presto]