I'm pissed off, I'm sore everywhere, and I shouldn't be staring at my front door like a paranoid Malk, waiting for who-knows-what traitor to come in and finish me off. I want to go stay with Mister Oscar for a few nights, but don't exactly feel safe there either. Stupid Faith. Even if she's not responsible she's still a prissy bitch. Damn I hope it's her just so I can take a swipe at her. Oh and god help her if she hurts Mister Oscar (not that she can really, he's like awesomely super-powerful) because then I will let the Nozzies and the Malks mess her around, and then I'll have my turn.
Things are getting serious and I'm not liking being scared. At least I have my beautiful Byron, my magpie, to make me feel better. He's not scared of anything. He wouldn't be jumping at the noises in the hallway like I am now. Now I know Mister Oscar's been telling me about all the dangers and whatever, but for the first time I feel like the warnings are real. Man, I wish I could just go get drunk! I don't like the idea that I'm growing up all of a sudden - it hurts, and I don't just mean the ragged cut marks all over me.
Damn it all. I call a cab, take a drive, make sure the driver doesn't remember me.
Stand in front of the door. Ring the bell. For once I don't even have to fake the wide eyes, the trembling lip, the vulnerable way that I clutch my jacket to my chest.
It's getting lighter out. Navy-blue sky. I hope he doesn't send me away...
Door opens. Lucky, it's him. I stifle a sob of relief.
"Can I stay here today, Mister Oscar? With you?"
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2 comments:
No need to be scared, cupcake. I'm not this Byron chap and I'm sure as shit not beautiful but I've got your back. You point, I punch. I never forget those that do right by me. Never.
Thanks Tom. It's a pity you're one of the uglies, but I like you even despite that. Besides I figure I owed you one too. And I do have a favour to ask. Next time i see you, remind me!
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