Left turn on Salt Rock Road

Marissa propped her bare foot on the dash of her boyfriend’s dusty old Honda as we traveled on forested back roads. I leaned my head against the door frame, feeling the fresh, hot air whip my hair around my head. I turned to look at the other passenger in the back seat. Jessica sat solemnly next to me, her hands clasped in her lap. We both knew Marissa could blow up if Daniel said one wrong word. She sat in the passenger seat, foot on the dash, leaning her head on her forehead and breathing as if she was trying to hold back. She probably was.
I took out the wrinkled, coffee stained map of West Virginia out from under the passenger seat. I don’t know why. GPS is running perfectly and the sun is beginning to set so it’s hard to see all the lines of road and highway, I just like to guesstimate where we are and figure out the math to see how many hours it will take for us to get to our beach vacation, a break from work, school and all the bullshit that goes with them. Smoothing out the crinkles of the map takes up the only white noise left after the radio. I don’t really mind. Awkward silence is so frequent with Marissa and Daniel’s bickering, I’m sick of it.
“Christy, why did you even bring that map? I have GPS right here.” Daniel picks up his technological map to show me, as if I hadn’t any knowledge of its existence.
“I dunno… I like my map.” I smoothed out some more wrinkles, creating more crackling noise, for emphasis.
“GPS doesn’t lie…”
“Yes it does, and it does it in that stupid woman’s voice.” Marissa let out a small giggle, barely audible. We enjoy picking on Daniel.
“She doesn’t lie to me.”
“That’s cause you guys talk dirty to each other when no one else is in the car. You desperate little freak.” Marissa laughed out loud. I almost want to pat myself on the back for releasing all the tension withheld in the car. Marissa scoots up in her chair, sitting properly.
“Can we stop at a hotel or something? I don’t want to sleep in the car all night.” Jessica perks up at Marissa’s request. I don’t think she’s used to these mood swings between Marissa and Daniel yet. I go back to my map while they talk about it, marking on the corner more miles and time notes. I’m running out of room in this corner for my calculations.
“Son of a bitch…” Daniel flips his rear view mirror, shielding his eyes from the high beams coming in from behind us. I fold my map and put it away, unable to read it anymore due to the light depletion. I groan, knowing Daniel will get pissed and we’ll be back in the same situation I had just diffused.
“Just let them pass you…It’s probably just some hillbilly.”
“Yeah, well I can be a hillbilly too.” I can feel the engine growl as he presses his foot on the accelerator. Jessica leans forward and smacks Daniel’s shoulder.
“Quit driving like a retard! We’re gonna get in a wreck!” Daniel jerked forward, over reacting from Jessica’s smack. I turned around, trying to figure out what type of vehicle it was (a truck, maybe). All I can see are headlights. It speeds up and rides close.
“Son of a bitch!” Daniel speeds up even more. I hold my breath, fear creeping up my spine. I look back at the vehicle again; it’s still close, too close. The seatbelt locks as my body is pushed forward from the hit or their grill to the Honda’s bumper. “What the FUCK!?” The Honda’s head lights lit up the road, revealing a buck trying to run out from the vehicle’s path. I hear myself screaming.
~*~*~*~*~
I hear something, but can’t quite make it out. Everything seems fuzzy. I try to breathe, feeling an extreme pain course out from my right side. I move my hand down to the spot where it hurts most. There’s something jammed into my side. I choke back a sob, still too afraid to look at my torso which is pulsating with more pain each second. There’s mud on me, why am I on the ground? Screaming. My head is ringing, but there’s definitely someone screaming.
I open my eyes, looking for the source of the scream. The Honda is the first thing in my sight. The hood is crunched up and it’s on its side. Headlights are behind it. The same headlights from earlier. I look down at my side and let out a groan of pain; a giant shard of glass is lodged into me. I’m covered in blood, and dirt.
I turn over and crawl to the car, feeling the glass with every movement. My hands touch the roof of the car first and I prop myself on the crinkled metal of the hood. I see Daniel, sitting against the trunk of a tree. The left leg of his pants is stained red from his hip to his knee and his hands are behind his back. He’s screaming something, but I can’t make out the words; my head is still ringing. I follow his eyes and find someone leaning over Jessica or Marissa. I can’t tell which one it is from this distance. The road is still close. Where’s the ambulance? I look towards the headlights and see another standing figure.
It’s Jessica. I move around the hood, trying to get closer to figuring out what’s going on. The ringing fades as Daniel’s screaming gets louder. Something is really wrong. The truck begins to reverse. Jessica screams and begins to tear at her right wrist. I squint my eyes, trying to focus on her. She isn’t tearing at her wrist, but at rope tied around it. The truck goes into drive, moving past her and increasing the speed. A bundle of rope next to her begins to diminish as the truck moves farther away. I gasp, not believing what’s happening. Her arm jerks in the direction of the truck, almost in slow motion, followed by her body. Screaming again, but it’s different this time, more permanent. I cover my ears, trying to block the sound out any way I can and turn away from the road which has been freshly littered with my friend’s flesh.
“Chris, run!” I barely hear Daniel calling my name, but it snaps me out of my trance. I move my legs, feeling them weigh more than usual. The heaviness of my limbs making running almost impossible, but I move anyways. A gloved hand wraps itself around my arm. An adrenaline induced punch lands in the face of my assailant, except it isn’t his face. I turn my head, finding a white mask instead of a face. He doesn’t say anything, just groans and puts his hand to where my fist had struck. I try to keep running but my foot gets stuck on something, causing my fall.
I turn to see what I fell over and find myself looking at the empty eyes of the deer Daniel hit. Vomit rises up from my stomach as the gloved hands grab me, pulling me back towards Daniel and Marissa.

I'd like to stick an armadillo in a blender..

Sory if this like..pisses someone off. I cant remember who reads my blog and who doesnt, so Im wingin it! nom nom nom! oh and btw. I totally had pizza hut on saturday and it was almost orgaaasmic. jk. it wasnt orgasmic, but it was pretty damn good. and good golly gee willikers, the drama from that night helped create this piece fo shit!

“I’m not your girlfriend, so even if I had done something with him, you don’t have a reason to get pissed at me.” I pulled the zipper up on my coat so hard; I almost pulled the tab off. I just wanted to get to my car and go home and go to bed. Jerk, getting mad at me for hanging out with my guy friend. The strap of my raggedy, black tote bag started to fall from my shoulder. It matched my black coat and work pants which were also black. I felt like a part of team death squad.
I fumed. Nick had been trying to date me for about two months now, and the thought of it makes me want to kick a cat (I wouldn’t really do that). He’s always following me around and talking. Im usually trying to get away and zoning out. Blah. Wind picked up and a light snow began to fall, decorating my black attire with white flakes that look more like dandruff until they slowly melt and dissapear. I stopped next to the old, graffiti covered parking garage and glanced up at the clouds. Snow. I hate it. A figure on the garage wall caught my eye.
I couldn’t figure out what it was. A bird? No, it’s too big to be a bird; it isnt shaped like a cat. Oh my god. I pressed the ‘end’ button on my cell and dialed 911. My heart rate picked up. I could hear it in my ears as my stomach tightened. Please don’t let it be a person up there. The figure stood there, unmoving. The clouds of air coming from my warm breath came faster as my breath quickened.
“911, what’s your emergency?” The voice was a woman’s was nasally, like those stereotypical operator voices. My eyes didn’t move from the figure.
“Hello? I’m on the college campus by the parking garage. I think someone may be about to jump from it.” My voice shook as I talked to the voice on the other end.
“Remain calm, Ma’am. Can you give me a direct address?” The figure moved. I felt my insides tighten.
A scream, then a thud.
“Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you still there?” I dropped my phone. I kept my face turned up, afraid of what I was about to see, next to me on the sidewalk. My hand moved to my cheek to wipe away the blood. Blood? I looked at my hand—blood.
I turned my eyes down to the sidewalk first, and then turned my head. Blood. So much of it. I heard people screaming, shouting. Someone grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the bloody disarray of a body. It was a girl. It felt like I was falling. Then I heard another scream. Mine.

I'm already going; I'm already gone...you'll never find me

I know this is weird. It was a project for my writing class. I've been trying to write about the situation that caused my last post since..sunday..but It's proving difficult. This may be as close as you'll get to figuring it out (good fucking luck) until I'm ready.

oh, and if you're reading this--it totally isnt about you, so dont freak out or get pissed at me thinkin Im calling you a boy...you're a man.. unless you have a vah-guy-nah..cause then you're a chick.. aaaanywhooo

Boys. Boys put on a show. Boys put on a bluff. Clever boys don’t get caught. Boys have an agenda. Boys busy themselves with plots. Clever boys stick to their plans. Boys create gutsy within themselves. Boys play games. Boys toy with emotions. Boys make promises they cannot keep. Boys hurt other people. Hurtful boys have trouble growing into men. Boys scare. Two boys, one with the intention of hurting someone; the other with the intention of having someone. Boys are selfish. One boy inflicts pain. Boys leave scars. One boy believes he is helping. A boy only increases the pain. Boys never cease. Boys always try to get what they want. Selfish boys. Boys tear things apart, ripping the pieces into two halves that will never make a whole again. Boys reward themselves. Boys talk of their triumphs. The boys exaggerate their story, trying to form themselves into men with their words. Boys have moments of no control. Uncontrolled boys allow themselves to commit acts they may regret later. Boys touch, grope, and feel their way into situations where they become uncontrolled boys. Boys are dumb. Boys listen when you tell what they want to hear. Boys are gullible; if you say what they want to hear, they believe it. Boys believe you when you say it’s okay. Boys are irresponsible. Boys possess things in which they cannot possibly care for in the correct way. Boys break.