STINGER ▹ lang

17 » the art of ghosting

"You think you aren't..."
That old familiar voice that used to make her laugh so hard just now makes her wanna cry.
"But you are. You always said I knew you better than you knew yourself."

"Gordo..."
Her voice sounds tinny and all kinds of whack in her memory, like an old recording she'd much rather delete.

"One day you'll find him...
And I hope he breaks your heart."

Too late.

She holds the phone to her chest and drops back onto the bed with a huff, blowing the hair out of her eyes. She idly stares at the ceiling when a funny feeling fills her head and a funky burning sensation enters her eyeballs.

Her face twitches and she catches her breath.

It hurts. Not just her heart, but her body too.

For half a sec, she actually misses the drugs.

Morphine pills were easier to pop, somehow the easiest to find too. Then again, oxy wasn't too bad to find after the desperation set in. Lots of people in San Fran were more than willing to hook her up. Besides, she had used her street smarts!

And Laurie knew it was wrong, she knew it was a bad decision, but she also knew it helped stop this. Because this means she's in trouble. And this is happening right now.

And before she knows it, Laurie's body starts going haywire.

"Nah, no, no... not now-," she hisses before grunting, trying to stand before her legs go out from under her, "Oh Holly Golightly, please, why now?"

Laurie shrieks to herself as her body suddenly starts to twitch, body fading in and out of itself, stretching, growing, shrinking, twisting. Her head is thrust to the side and her body crumbles as the transformation continues, the bones in her spine and in her arms and in her legs popping and grinding each other.

Blood starts to leak from her eyes and her ears and her mouth. Laurie bites back a scream, falling face first into her rug as her nails dig into the wooden floor around it. Falling and crawling haphazardly towards her desk, her arms retract and then her legs pull in and then she's normal size again.

And just like that, the attack is over.

Laurie Lang coughs on the blood in her lungs and on her face, wiping it away on her pale blue sleeve. Her sweatpants are torn and her sweatshirt is now too stretched out. But at least it's over. Those emotions and those symptoms have passed and the sad kid heaves a sigh of longing, laying flat out on the floor, limp and tired and unmoving.

Just 'cause you're sober doesn't mean you don't miss it. Whether it's drugs, your best friend, or shrinking up to the size of an ant and being a superhero. It's all the same in the end.

♢ ♢ ♢

And soon, the father and daughter sit in their pjs and with bowls of cereal in hand, having successfully completed the very first day of Scott's last three days of imprisonment. Neither discuss what happened to either of them earlier in the night. Maybe because they're embarrassed, maybe because they're trying to ignore their problems, or maybe it's because they're stupid. It's a toss up.

Still, the two have pretty much tired themselves out, each content to sit quietly. That is, until a quiet buzzing interrupts their regularly scheduled nightly viewing of some random old movie on TV.

Laurie watches the flying ant with slowly widening eyes, watching it diligently dart around her and head straight for her father's neck where it sinks its little stinger in.