Backdrop

I stopped and looked at my blade kissed arms. The blood was dripping down, making swirly patterns. I giggled. I then looked at my surroundings.

Lights, I don’t know where they come from, but there's sure a lot. I hear car horns blaring at me. I don’t know how close, but they’re there. I take a few steps to my left, hoping I go the right way. The horns get louder and louder, until I can’t take it anymore. My ears feel like someone is sticking hot knives in there, lodging them into my brain.

I open my eyes and see a street, cars, and a road. Oh, and it seems that I'm in the center. I smile what I hoped looked apologetic, and rush off, ignoring the looks people gave me.

No thank you People, I do not need your looks just now.

I finally found a nice alley that looks as if it would serve my sleeping purposes. Someone left a dish of food and a blanket in front of a door. Perfect.

As I step close, I feel the pangs of wonderful pain caress my body. I’m really lucky I didn’t pass out this time. Mother sometimes has too much fun with my body.

I cover myself with the blanket, enjoying watching the fast-growing bruises.

Suddenly the world was closed by big, black gates, closing off my view of it as I see it in odd, neon colors. If all our life is but a dream, fantastic posing greed then we should feed our jewellery to the sea…For diamonds do appear to be, just like broken glass to me…a song I haven’t heard in a while plays as my mind blacks out.

<.<o<O>o>.>

“Is she alright?”

I dunno man, it looks as if she’s been hurt intentionally. This could get serious.”
That’s funny. Last time I looked, I was on the street. Oh well. Hello, my figments of imagination. Maybe you can take some of my boredom away?

“Hey, I heard that with stray cats you can tell if they had a previous home by calling them different names. Should we try it?”
I heard a thump. It sounded like someone got hit on the head.

“Dude, that’s retarded. But it doesn’t look as if she’s waking up soon.”

“Yess! Okay. Um… Sophie? Maria? Jacqueline?”

“Jacqueline? Where’d you get that?”

“It was my mother’s name. I’m French, remember?”

“Oh yeah, right. My turn. Stephanie, Sam, Susan.”
They went on for a bit, sometimes getting creative and combining names to make odd hybrids, like Jalissa, or Kimbah. I almost laughed once at Bevlet, but sadly held it in.

I figured out that I was on a bed, turned away from them. They sounded like they were sitting, good friends like. I looked at my arms and almost gasped. My left was in a wrap and the other was covered in…invisible band-aid… I think. Whoever had done it has had obviously no experience in it what so ever. It was in large, messy lakes, and still a bit wet. They covered my knife gashes pretty well, with what looked like half an inch of the stuff. Whoever these people are, they ruined my fun for the day. I really like doing this stuff on my own.

“Hey, I think she’s up.”

“Ha! So it was Suissa!”

“Shut up!”
I felt a prodding at my back.

I turned around and glared at the hand wielding eyes.

“Whoever you may be, I am extremely pissed because you messed up my play time.”

“Whoa, I did not expect that reaction.” The guy on the left had brown hair. I shall dub him Brownie.

“Wait, play time? Are you referring to your wounds or are you still waking up?”

I sat up on the bed. Consciously I checked if I still had everything I came here with. Tattered shirt, check. Grubby pants, yup. Shoes and socks I found one day in a store, check-a-roo.

I lifted my right arm.

“Yes, this right here. I like to do it my self.”

Brownie looked pissed.

“Hey, watch it. I did that myself, thank you very much. Without us you might have been dead, slowly dying, bashed in the head, bitten by rats, raped, sent of to a whor-”

“Mark, shut the fuck up. You,” Blackie-for that was his obvious hair color- now turned to me. “are still dazed if your talking like that. Your arm is broken, you have many cuts which all look like they originated from a knife, and you may have a concussion. We, that is Mark and I, are trying to help you after we found you in our dog’s bed. So speak your story. That is,” he looked at my arm and head a bit unsure-like. “That is, if you feel fine.”

I looked at Blackie and smiled.

“You see mister, my mom and I were playing around. Sometimes she’s a bit rough, but all moms are like that.” I gave him the watered down version. I didn’t have to mention my daddy.

“Your, your own mother did this?” Blackie looked aghast.

“What, you’ve never played with your parents?”

Brownie went back into the conversation.

“Shit, this is so fucked up. Danny, we need to call the cops. You,” I do have a name. I wonder if I should tell them to stop with this ‘you’ business. “what is your address? Don’t worry hun, we’ll fix this mess.”

Mother warned me to not tell anyone of our secret. It was our mom and child super special secret bond. She brought me pleasure, and I baked the food. ‘Twas a good trade off, I think. Dad sometimes helped in hitting me, especially after a hard day at his job. He said it was better than a backrub and a cigarette.

Mother also warned me that if anyone asked, I fell off some stairs.

“No, no. It’s fine. You see, I was in a rush to get to school and I kinda fell down the stairs…” I drifted off, trying to sound convincing.

“Yeah, fuck that idea. It’s July, and a Sunday at that.” Hmm. When does school usually begin?

“No, no. I mean Sunday school. You know, at a church.” I am a genius.

“Seriously? You came in yesterday, unless you were planning to stay there for a day in anticipation. Now the truth.”

I quickly scanned the room for a way out. I spotted an open window next to Brownie’s head.

“Okay, okay. I’ll tell you but first I gotta pee.” I hung my head, not looking them in the eyes. A trick Mother taught me.
“Sure. But be back in less than five minutes, the window is locked with a key, anyways.” Blackie eyed me suspiciously. How right he is.