intoxication, pregnacy and other things :: Anzie

[k!ah]

a u t u m n dakota.

[/color]
[/center]

We, we don't have to worry 'bout nothing
'Cause we got the fire, and we're burning one hell of a something
They, they gonna see us from outer space (outer space)
Light it up, like we're the stars of the human race (human race)

[/color]

The fire burned as it slip down the soft insides of my throat. I don’t cough or flail around; I take it like a man, a smile sliding onto my pink, full lips. Yep, there was nothing like the hot fire of alcohol burning through one’s body. I place the shot glass onto the bench, my fingers landing elegantly beside it. My eyes take in the bar keeper in front of me, and I shoot him a wink and flash him a flirtatious smile. He smiled back and poured another drink for me. “On the house sweetheart,” he winks sliding the drink across the counter. I give him one last lingering smile before downing the drink in one gulp, the burning not as intense.

Placing the glass down loudly again, I turns away from the counter. The world seems to tilt slightly as my eyes search the crowd of bodies. The music was beating loudly, the pulse of the music’s beat bouncing through my body, off the walls of my brain. I smile, my body beginning to move with the beat as I stumble over to the centre of the crowd. Sweaty bodies pressed up against mine, and I pressed my body to the people around me, my arms knocking into others bodies. But no one complained, we just kept dancing. We just kept moving to the undying beat. I didn’t even know the people who were touching me in ways that others- or sober people- might find uncomfortable. But I didn’t I moved closer to the moving bodies, indulging in the sense of skin against skin.

The room smelt of sweat, stale beer and stale deodorant. It was a smell that was so familiar to me, so comforting in a way. I have been clubbing like this for as long as I can remember. It is an escape, dancing and drinking and smoking takes away the memories of my life, takes away the memories that break my heart, the memories that turn a smile into tears. I didn’t want to remember the painful times of my life, I wanted to live in the moment, I wanted to have fun, to do new things, to become someone I knew my parents would not be proud of. I don’t want their approval, I wanted nothing less. They were dirt in my eyes, people who didn’t deserve me.

Pulling my mind away from my parents I feel the heat of the dancing begin to sink in. I wasn’t just sweating now, I was dripping. And boy was I thirsty. Moving away from the crowd I move towards the exit, my body eager to exit the heated room. As soon as I took a step out of the room the cool breeze hit me like a cement wall. I froze for a second, taking a moment to adjust to the temperature change. The coolness touches my skin gingerly and I hug my arms around myself, my dress clingy tightly to my body. It was my night off, well it probably wasn’t- but did I care? Not really, day off or not, no one was going to stop me from having a good time.

By now I was smashed though, and it was beginning to show. I could barely walk straight, the alcohol in my body beginning to take effect of my co-ordination. I take a step towards the footpath, but stumbled, my knees hitting the cement ground hard. “Shit.” I curse under my breathe, my hands hitting the ground in front of me, stopping my body from falling any further. “Now I have to get back up.” Sighing I try to pull myself off the ground and onto my feet, using the wall as my stand. Finally I was on my feet, the world dancing insanely around me. Wow and tonight had just begun, I think to myself before wandering down one of the lamp lit streets.

When the light's turned down, they don't know what they heard

Strike the match, play it loud, giving love to the world
We'll be raising our hands, shining up to the sky
'Cause we got the fire, fire, fire
Yeah we got the fire, fire, fire[/i][/color][/center][/blockquote][/justify][/size]
[/blockquote]

[анзие (Anz)]

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[atrb=background,http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo66/FallingIceAngel/argh-1.png] Aiden Gabriel Pierce 15 years . Male . The Capitol

[/color]

Aiden has been many people this night, and not one of them is him.

It is a little bit of a necessary precaution, partially to keep his identity (his secret identity, isn't that hilarious, like one of those superheroes in comics - except you're not a superhero, Aiden, are you? You're the kind of boy they'll throw in jail, then throw away the key.) safe from the law and partially to avoid anyone interested in stalking him. He worked it all out; how can one dog his footsteps if they don't know who he really is? And how can the peacekeepers find him when all known 'associates' divulge different names?

(He thinks he's a bit of a genius.)

At this very moment in time, his name is Dominic and he's a tailor. But the owner of the hands around his neck isn't interested in knowing all that, really. He's a little more intrigued by the way Aiden's eyes flicker and his skin blooms in color when the man flexes his muscles. And Aiden is more interested in wondering how long he'll be able to hold his breath before he has to breathe. "Like a game, it's a game for you. Is it just a game for you? Tell me. Tell me!"

How strange that the man before him is completely quiet, that the dimly lit bathroom is devoid of life but them (and the blurring, swirling pattern of fungus on the top corner - the Avoxes should take care of that, lazy creatures, he thinks snidely), yet he should hear the voices outside the door. But they're not really outside the door, are they? The voices fade in and out of his mind, beginning to be blocked out by the ringing in his ears, and-

"Hey! Let him go!"

And the man who knows him as Dominic releases him. Aiden falls, sputters and gasps for breath. The world swirls back from the blackness that was his vision, taking its own sweet time. He can hear angry voices and the protests of the man whose first words when he saw Aiden (with his bruises and his cuts) was along the lines of I want to strangle you (and Aiden agreed, but who needs to know).

It feels like hours later (though in reality it may have been mere seconds) when he's finally - finally! - capable of balancing. He pushes himself slowly to his feet, feels large hands supporting his slight frame and (slowly, slowly) realizes that there is a huge man next to him. A bouncer. Crap.

"Sir, are you alright?" Before Aiden can nod, can respond with an affirmative, the bouncer stops and eyes him, cautious. "Hang on, how old are-?"

Aiden flashes him the biggest smile he can, says sweetly, "Oops, look at the time, I've got to go!" He ducks under the big man's arm, ignoring calls of, "Sir! Sir!" Before the bouncer is even out the bathroom, he's stumbled through the back exit and into the dark (but pristine) alley.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, then silently congratulates himself on what he counts as a victory, in all honesty. (He made it out unscathed - or as scathed as he desired to be that night - and his youth has attracted the attention of only one security person. It's a victory, all right.)

Aiden pulls his collar up to hide the bruises from passing glances (not that anyone would say anything, really, who's cared? No one) and sets off for home. After all, there isn't much else he wanted to do that night (though he's crossing strangulation off the list of any such encounters, but that can be done at home).

The rapidly gaining footsteps behind alert him to the presence of that damned bouncer. Aiden only has a moment to think, Shoot. I hate people with a moral conscience, before he's off and running himself. The footsteps behind him fade; he's not too fast, so the bouncer probably gave up in frustration, but he shouldn't be too sure.

Somewhere in front of him a woman meanders in a drunken fashion. Good, maybe she'll be able to throw them off scent, if he still plans on following me. In desperation he'll never admit to, without care for his bruised throat, he calls for her: "Ma'am! Wait up!

[/color][/blockquote][/blockquote]

"Who does he think he is?"
If that's the worst you got
Better put your fingers back to the keys
One night and one more time
Thanks for the memories

[/font][/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

ooc | let me know if there's anything you want me to change or edit Also, half my post is like, bracketed. >_>

[k!ah]

a u t u m n dakota.

[/color]
[/center]

And we gonna let it burn, burn, burn, burn
We gonna let it burn, burn, burn, burn
Gonna let it burn, burn, burn, burn
We gonna let it burn, burn, burn, burn

[/color]

My feet slapped heavily onto the ground, my heels making my feet ache. Frustrated, I lean down to remove the shoe that clung to my foot, gingerly undoing the clips that fastened them in spit. It took me a few heated moments of yelling and nearly punching the wall to get out of the shoes in my ‘state’ but after a few moments I was free of them. I tossed the over my shoulder, then thought twice, and pulled one back, behind my shoulder, before launching it into the night sky. I watched as it sailed over roof tops before crashing into one of the windows of one of the taller buildings. Glass shattered and rained down onto the cement path way. A smile split my face as I heard someone scream and I light flicked on, and an annoyed face appeared at the broken windows side. The smile on my lips grew as I pulled my arm back again, and threw the next shoe. Again it sailed across high above the building before coming to a halt on the ladies face. She screamed, before disappearing from my view. “Nailed it.”

With a laugh I continue down the street, my laughter bubbling up inside me. The light in the building was still on and I could only imagine the situation that might be occurring on the inside. ”Ouch, honey someone smashed the window- god knows how cause we are on the bloody 24th floor, and then threw a shoe at my face. Am I still pretty? Do you still love me?” ”Hah! A shoe? At your face? That would make an improvement!” “WHAT! DO YOU WANT TO DIE! GUESS WHO IS SPEELING ON THE COUCH TONIGHT!” A door slams. “Huh, worth it.” Prays to the wonderful lady who threw the shoe and improved his rather ugly wife’s face.[/i][/color]Yep. Sounds about right- to me anyways.

My head was still spinning, but I didn’t mind, that incident had just made my night. I guess all that peacekeeper training had come in good use! Even when I am drunk, my aim is still perfection. Again, I smile to myself, and stumble further down the street. It was a reasonably quiet night, and it surprised me, after all it was Saturday- wasn’t it? My mind tossed back through the week. Monday I had worked, then partied and then gotten high… Tuesday, Tuesday, I can’t even remember I was so shitfaced, Wednesday- I don’t think I even reached Wednesday, so maybe it wasn’t Saturday after all. That would explain the tiny crowd on the street. Shrugging to myself I come to the conclusion that today was indeed Wednesday, which meant that I was supposed to be working a shift as 4 am in the forming.

What time was it now? I had no idea, I didn’t like to wear a watch, it would distract the men that I was playing with if I had an extremely awesome piece of watch around my wrist. And they didn’t need any more distractions, I think that I was enough. I have always felt that way about myself, I knew I was attractive, hell I knew that I could get any man I wanted, no questions asked. I was that jewel in a pile of hay, a super big jewel, one easy to find, didn’t even need to look hard. But I wouldn’t call myself a slut, no I didn’t sleep around that much- gosh only two three times a week? Ha, okay, maybe I was a bit of a slut, and maybe I was known for being that peacekeeper who was known as peacekeeper-ish as the other peacekeepers. I was known for being a rebellious one on a way, and boy, that attracted the men like a woman making a sandwich. They just flocked to me; in numbers that I couldn’t even keep count of.

But before you go judging me, you have to understand, that a hard life has lead me into a life like this. I wasn’t that spoilt child that you expected, I was a child who was abused, who went through a hard time with their parents always fighting and blaming me. I didn’t get everything I wanted; hell I barely got to go outside the house… so now, you might understand a bit better for why I am this person. I just try to escape- "Ma'am! Wait up!” Someone calls out from behind me, and a frown finds a place on my face. I halt, and turn around to see a kid run up to me, his face red from running. I smile, the frown disappearing from my face. He was a rather cute kid, and I just wanted to pinch his cheeks with my fingers. But instead, I lean forward and kiss the guys hard, my lips pressing to his.

After a moment I pull back and look at him. He looked young. Maybe a bit too young. Opps. I smack my lips togethers, my eyes trying to concentrate in one thing, but the world was still dancing around me, sending my sense all over the place.

“Hey, ‘dere kid. Now, what have we got ‘ere?” I run my eyes from his head to his toes, my head tilting as my eyes come back to rest on his face- well, actually two faces, not so cute anymore. “You look a bit too young to be walking around on the streets this late at night, you’ve got to be ten or something.”

We don't wanna leave, no. We just wanna be right now (r-r-right now)

And what we see, is everybody's on the floor acting crazy getting loco til the lights out
Music's on, I'm waking up, we stop the fire and we burn it up
And it's over now, we got the love, there's no sleeping now, no sleeping now (sleeping now)[/i][/center][/blockquote][/justify][/size]
[/blockquote]

[анзие (Anz)]

ooc | I keep giggling every time I read the first part of your post xD Also I don't think I did this post very well, sorry if there are errors and all

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[atrb=background,http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo66/FallingIceAngel/argh-1.png] Aiden Gabriel Pierce 15 years . Male . The Capitol

[/color]

The adrenaline buzzing through Aiden's veins is like a drug, and not one he can bottle. He delights in the thrill that spreads down his back, in the endorphins that, if it were possible, he would breathe in like air.

But the adrenaline lasts only a little while, and his legs are starting to get oh-so tired. Aiden forces himself to keep going, because what if the woman leaves if he slows, or if she goes before he gets there? That would completely destroy the vague plan he has not yet constructed. Aiden would much prefer having the choice of using her or not using her. Although he doesn't really see how he can use a woman.

The woman not too far in front of him - kind of obviously drunk, and strangely lacking shoes (didn't he hear some kind of screaming earlier? I wonder what that was all about.) - has stopped. Silently grateful, he slows to a jog, out of breath, his face probably an unflattering shade of red. Running is the absolute worst. And red looks horrible on me, he thinks fussily, reaching up to try and fix his hair, at the very least. Always leave a good impression on anyone and everyone.

(Though how much of a good impression he can leave on that utterly gorgeous woman - where the heck did that come from? - remains to be seen.)

He stops in front of her and takes a deep breath to say hello, to maybe - shyly - ask her if, please, would she take him home for a night? He only needs a place to stay for a little while. And he'll be gone in the morning. Aiden is fully prepared to bat his lashes and attempt to charm the woman into cooing over him and being all, "Of course I'll let you sleep on my bed!" That is the best plan he can figure out in such a short time - the few second jog between where he was and where he is - and he thinks it's workable. He can re-test how good his 'help me, I'm lost, I'm also pulling at your motherly instincts, help me' act really is. It's a win-win situation. For him, anyway.

To his extreme misfortune, the lady gets there first - though he supposes it's only right, ladies first after all, isn't it? (He isn't sure at first what she was doing, she seemed to get closer and closer and then-) She presses a brief, hard kiss to his lips, and it is all Aiden can do to not fall into her arms and let her have her way - whatever way it may be - with him.

Aiden sways and stares at her dumbly. That didn't go as planned. Not that he minds, not in the state that one kiss left him in. He feels as though he's floating: he's maybe a little dizzy and his body feels so light. So there's a chance that he is really floating off. (He hopes the lady isn't so drunk that she can catch hold of his leg when he floats away. He thinks maybe being her personal balloon won't be so bad).

Thankfully, Aiden's out-of-body experience ends not too long after. The lady's mouth is moving. Oh crap. She's talking to me, isn't she? “Now, what have we got ‘ere?”

He has the strange feeling that she's looking him over like a predator would a prey (or maybe like a buyer would an outfit), and he feels strangely flattered by her attention. He tries his best to suppress his smile. “You look a bit too young to be walking around on the streets this late at night, you’ve got to be ten or something."

That snaps him back to himself fully (and it's really only then he realizes that he was so off-kilter that he didn't even notice), and Aiden glares at her, crossing his arms (like a ten-year-old child). "I am not!" he snaps, insulted. "I'm fifteen. Fif. Teen. I'm not ten." He pauses. "Do I really look ten?" he mumbles to himself, abruptly anxious. Oh no, I need a mirror, I do look ten, don't I? No no no, that's horrible!

[/i]

"Do you have a mirror I can borrow?"
[/justify][/color][/blockquote][/blockquote]

"Who does he think he is?"
If that's the worst you got
Better put your fingers back to the keys
One night and one more time
Thanks for the memories

[/font][/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[k!ah]

a u t u m n dakota.

[/color]
[/center]

When the light's turned down, they don't know what they heard
Strike the match, play it loud, giving love to the world
We'll be raising our hands, shining up to the sky
'Cause we got the fire, fire, fire
Yeah we got the fire, fire, fire

[/color]

The boy looks dazed, his face frozen, his mouth open in that comical ‘o’ shape. I feel a smile slip onto my lips. [/color]I guess being kissed by some stranger is new to him. Well good on him. I think to myself. It is always good to experience knew things in life. Life was only short, but there only was so many things one could do, so I say, take the chances while you can and live life to its fullest potential. And if the means getting laid by a woman twice your age then do so. Not that I was going to lay another finger in this boy. Not yet anyways. The smile grows as my mind races.

The boy on the other hand seems to be slightly offended by the words that had fallen clumsily from my lips. Maybe I had been lying. He didn’t actually look ten, but it was the first age that had come to my mind, and I was into too much of a drunken state at actually care that this guy was offended cause I had called him ten. By his reaction- a dummy spit, he crossing his arms protectively over his chest- he did seem like a ten year old. The smile on my lips slips slightly, but not so much to look like I am frowning. It was cute really, this fif-teen year old boy having a little agro session cause I had called him ten. Usually I might have gotten frustrated and maybe slapped the prick across his face, but tonight? Tonight I felt a little more generous, after all I had just thrown, with perfect aim, a shoe into a woman’s face. That, my friend, took skill, skill that surged through my body in waves. It would take more than a dummy spit to destroy upbeat mood tonight.

After another exaggerated sigh the boy paused, his face transforming until his eyes were mirrored with anxiety, and not anger. "Do I really look ten?" He asks, more to himself, than me. But I smile and point a finger at him. “Yah, you do, and after that little show, you act like it too.” But he doesn’t seem to be listening, his mind racing over the possibilities that he looked like a ten year old. A child. I remember the days. The days when I was nothing but a child, minding my own business, doing not what I wanted cause my parents were asshats who told me what to do all the time, always using me as an excuse for their arguments. Ugh, I hated those days. Shaking my head I pull myself out of my memories and back into the presence where I find the boy asking me a question.

"Do you have a mirror I can borrow?" The question throws me off for a second. But I gather myself, my mouth twisting once again into a taunting smile. Slowly I reach my hand into my bra and pull out my portable make up mirror which I hand to him. “There you go my boy. Now, when you look into the mirror, don’t be surprised, you aren’t that bad looking for a ten year old.” But then I quickly snatch my hand back, the mirror closing in my fingers. ”Hey, if give this too you, this mirror, you better give it back or your life won’t be very exciting, okay?”

And we gonna let it burn, burn, burn, burn

We gonna let it burn, burn, burn, burn
Gonna let it burn, burn, burn, burn
We gonna let it burn, burn, burn, burn[/i][/center][/blockquote][/justify][/size]
[/blockquote]

[анзие (Anz)]

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[atrb=background,http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo66/FallingIceAngel/argh-1.png] Aiden Gabriel Pierce 15 years . Male . The Capitol

[/color]

Aiden is not ten years old. (He is a brat though.) He certainly does not act like he's ten years old, and he's seen and done more than any ten year old he knows (he's seen and done more than any kid his age, too... that counts for something, doesn't it?

[/i]). He has evidence to prove that he's not ten years old, even. Just like his teachers always ask him to, he can prove he's not ten, and does not look or act like he's ten.

Just because you let older people sleep with you doesn't mean you're mentally fifteen, a traitorous part of himself sniggers, and he really, really wants to tear his hair out. I am not ten years old! he wants to scream to the world (only he's afraid that someone else will hear him).

Okay, Aiden. Calm down. This lady doesn't know what she's talking about. She's drunk. Remember? That's why you picked her. Aiden tries to calm himself. He takes several deep breaths, and a few more for good measure. No one has ever gotten under his skin so easily since... since father. Shut up Aiden, father's a nice man, he raised you. It's not a good feeling to have them under his skin (Father hates you now, too, and in desperation he wonders how they fit, there's no space under his skin).

Certainly, there have been people who tried to knock him off the imagined pedestal (the one they thought he's on, but he really isn't) with words - the headmaster at his school, some of his more irritable teachers, a few kids and some of the clients to name a few - and they usually fail.

But the pretty lady before him does it with such ease. He almost shudders as he stares at her amused expression (and doesn't, doesn't think about how she may just be able to tear him to pieces).

Aiden decides then and there that he doesn't like people getting under his skin, and he wishes he never chose to call after this lady.

“Now, when you look into the mirror, don’t be surprised, you aren’t that bad looking for a ten year old.”

Especially since she keeps telling him that he looks ten.

Of all the ages, it has to be ten. He can't help the hurt and anxious expression on his face as he reaches for the mirror. What if... what if his clients are only going with him because they like young kids? He wouldn't put it past the Capitolites to do just that. Everyone has a strange taste here. But if he's ten it means when he grows older they won't want him around anymore. Just like everyone else in your life,[/i] breathes his traitor of a mind.

(He doesn't want them to abandon him.)

”Hey, if give this too you, this mirror, you better give it back or your life won’t be very exciting, okay?”

His hand is still outstretched, as though Aiden is about to take the mirror that is no longer where it was. The lady is hanging onto it, her tone to his ears stern. He blinks at her, at a loss.

"Uh, sure." He pauses. "Is it special?" he asks tentatively, unsure if he wants to take it now. It'll be really bad if I broke it by accident.[/justify][/color][/blockquote][/blockquote]

"Who does he think he is?"
If that's the worst you got
Better put your fingers back to the keys
One night and one more time
Thanks for the memories

[/font][/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[k!ah]

a u t u m n dakota.

[/color]
[/center]

We, we don't have to worry 'bout nothing
'Cause we got the fire, and we're burning one hell of a something
They, they gonna see us from outer space (outer space)
Light it up, like we're the stars of the human race (human race)

[/color]

"Uh, sure." He says, and pauses for a moment. "Is it special?" He then asks and I smile at him, my pearly white flashing in his direction. “Of course it is honey!” I squeal, and the pout my lips, my mind racing over the time when I had first found this mirror. To be honest I had never really thought about it before, was this mirror special to me? I remember the first time I had picked the mirror up and a smile slips onto my lips. The first time I had picked it up I had felt a strong connection, like we were meant to be. I had been in one of those lousy streets- one of the more doggy shops- that you find on the out skirts of the capitol. I had been on duty, and thought that I had earned a break after just having started about ten minutes earlier.

I had walked into the shop, with no intentions of buying a thing… but it didn’t really turn out that way half the shop was in my pocket by the time I left, but that’s not really the point. But then I had seen it, in a beacon of light (the curtain had been open a bit and the light had slithered through, almost like a spot light on the mirror.) right into the mirror. Frozen in my step- which was heading towards a rather stylish bong- I couldn’t take my eye of the small portable black mirror. Almost immediately I stopped heading towards the bong and towards the beacon of light. My eyes were glued to the thing, like actually glued, I couldn’t look away.

As soon as I touched the thing- I knew, really knew- that it was mine and I was its. A few minutes later I was walking out of the store the mirror tucked safely away in the cup of my bra- just like it had been this evening. But after saying this: this situation, or event, was not a once in a life time event for me. With almost everything I bought, I felt the same way. I felt as though the things that I wanted, was made just for me, that we were meant to be- like people would feel about soul mates! Yes, that the perfect example. The way I feel about clothes, accessories is the way that normal people would feel about soul mates.

Triumph surged through me as I came to the conclusion that yes, yes this mirror was important to me. It was like my soul mate. The smile on my lips only grows as my eyes stare straight into the boys. “Yes, this mirror is important to me, just like your mother is important to you. So if you want a happy mummy, I would make sure that that mirror comes back to me, in a better condition than I gave it to you.” I say, flashing a wink in the boy’s direction, “I take a lot of pride and joy in my possessions, honey.” So again I hold out the mirror towards the boy, my smile daring him to take it from my grasp. “But, you do know that when I said you looked ten, I didn’t really mean it… It was just the first number that came to mind- and plus you are a much better kisser than a ten year old,” I smile, and then add almost as an afterthought, “Not that I have ever kissed a ten year old. That would be gross, like ugh.” A shudder runs through my body at the thought of pressing my lips to a child.

When the light's turned down, they don't know what they heard

Strike the match, play it loud, giving love to the world
We'll be raising our hands, shining up to the sky
'Cause we got the fire, fire, fire
Yeah we got the fire, fire, fire[/i][/color][/center][/blockquote][/justify][/size]
[/blockquote]

[анзие (Anz)]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo66/FallingIceAngel/argh-1.png] Aiden Gabriel Pierce 15 years . Male . The Capitol

[/color]

The pretty lady makes it sound so simple. If I want a happy Mother, all I have to do is give the pretty lady her mirror back in a more than acceptable condition. That's what she means, isn't it? Aiden's hand is frozen still, half-outstretched, his fingers curled gently inwards as though a part of him is already laughing at any and all childish hopes in his mind.

Aiden... wants to. He wants to take it now, get a chance - no, actually have a chance. (He's never had a chance before). Because is Aiden's mother important to him? Aiden isn't sure... Or he wants to be but there are so many things in the way that hold up stop signs and tell him to just not. Just forget about her. He wants to, part of him yearns to but... but...

But Mother.

She's his mother.

And they're meant to be living in a perfect world... Maybe this is my only chance. Maybe if I give her back the mirror in the best possible condition then Mother will love me again. (But he doesn't remember, does he? He doesn't remember Mother hates him. Never wanted him around. Father did, then Father didn't. Make up your mind! he wants to scream at him if they should ever meet again, Do you want me or don't you?!

They should have given him up when they found out they had him. Didn't they have technology enough to kill him before he was fully alive?)

“But, you do know that when I said you looked ten, I didn’t really mean it… It was just the first number that came to mind- and plus you are a much better kisser than a ten year old... Not that I have ever kissed a ten year old. That would be gross, like ugh.”

He barely hears her words (and the part of him that does is grateful, urges him to push the mirror away. At least she's not kissing me because she likes children. He doesn't need his mother around, after all. He really doesn't. He just wanted to check, and now he doesn't need to check if he really looks ten now, does he?) as he stares down at his feet for the longest time, thinking, turning his thoughts over and over in his head. He wants it to be true (he wants a miracle).

But it won't be, and part of him knows that. There isn't ever going to be a miracle because of a mirror. Of course not. He knows that. Or at least a part of him realizes that this, whatever this thought is, is going to end badly (possibly with his tears). Yet...

Yet it's so easy to be a child, isn't it? So easy to sit back and wait for someone else to take care of him (but it's not like people take care of him anyway). He just wants that care, that unequivocal love and maybe Mother will give that (that one thing he's wanted since he can remember) to him if he keeps his promise.

Aiden's grasping at straws he'll never admit to wanting in the first place.

The boy who isn't ten silently holds his hand out for the mirror and looks up at her (hoping, praying his expression isn't full of quiet desperation - but he bets it is, his luck tonight is spiralling down just like his life, where is he going? What is he doing here? Is there a point to anything? There's no need to get all philosophical, Aiden. Just take the mirror.) And Aiden's hand is curled tight in a fist, he can't force his fingers open and- and he-

Aiden really, really shouldn't take it.

Pinning your hopes on something as stupid as it is fake? his own voice sneers in his head. He drops his hand and shakes his head slowly - too slowly, Doubting yourself already, Aiden? You stupid child.

[/color] Don't be a child, Aiden. Grow up, Aiden. Stupid boy.

He feels lost but he says, he tells the pretty lady, “I... I'm fine," and he's really not.[/color][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

"Who does he think he is?"
If that's the worst you got
Better put your fingers back to the keys
One night and one more time
Thanks for the memories

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