Status: Complete(:

Death is Black and White

She Gets a Call.

Before I can even put my book bag down Sam orders me to take a shower. 

"Shampoo twice, condition twice," she instructs, going through her book bag that's filled with cosmetics instead of homework. "In that order. I'll go pick out your outfit and plug this in." 

She pulls a flat iron out of her bag and practically sprints to my  bedroom, leaving me in the dust to go "shampoo once, condition once, in that order". 

I silently pray that she knows what she's doing and take a quick shower. When I get back to my room Sam's got everything laid out on my dresser as strategically as a surgeon would, from hairspray to eye liner. 

I guess Sam's always been really into makeup and hair, but I didn't know she enjoyed it enough to own seven different shades of eyeliner, hundreds of eyeshadows, and maybe nine shades of lipstick. 

"Fucking makeup guru," I tease and sit on the chair that she brought in from Miranda's room. 

She rolls her eyes and doesn't waste any time, immediately squirting some obscure cream into her hands and working into my short hair. She blow-dries it and combs it out, then straightens it, curling the longer ends in the front. 

"I can't believe she cut your hair so short," Sam comments while running the iron through my hair. 

"I don't know," I say offhandedly. "I kind of like it better." 

"Me too," Sam says. "I'm just not used to it yet. I wish I could pull off short hair." 

"At least you have a choice," I joke. "The stupid doctors didn't even ask me if I wanted half my hair chopped off." 

Sam spins me around and starts to put foundation all over my face, then lots of powder. 

"Is all this really necessary?" I ask while she tilts my head back. "I don't want him to mistake me for Lissi." 

She stifles a giggle. "She was a bitch," Sam admits. I laugh, too. "But don't worry, you'll look nothing like her. I'm not putting much makeup on you anyway. Now close your eyes so I can put on the eyeshadow." 

I sigh. I don't have a problem with makeup in the least, in fact I used to wear it all the time, just like Sam still does. But after a while the routine got tedious. What's the point of waking up an extra half hour early if you're invisible to the world anyway? 

"We're going to the movies, though," I argue. "It's dark the whole time, so why get all fancied up?" 

"Just shut up and let me do this, you killjoy," Sam sighs. 

Five minutes later, Sam finishes and makes me put on the outfit she picked out for me- faded jeans and a gray top with silhouettes of trees on it that I bought on sale one day and wore only once. It's probably been sitting in my closet for at least a year without being worn. 

"You can look in the mirror now," Sam tells me. 

I didn't even realize that she wasn't letting me look until now. I mean, I didn't even get the urge to look in a mirror since I've gotten so used to avoiding them lately. I get a chill up my spine at the thought of looking up and seeing something other than myself; something i'm actually pretty used to. 

I shake my head. "I'll just take your word that I look fine," I say quietly. 

"Come on," she urges, looking sympathetic but a little antsy. "You haven't seen Lotty in a week, I'm sure she won't be popping up in your mirror. Just look." 

I bite my lip and turn to look at myself in the old mirror. To my relief, I look normal. 

Well, not normal, considering "normal" for me is wearing a sweatshirt with maybe a little eyeliner and having only combed my lifeless hair. 

"You're right," I comment, examining my reflection. "I don't look like Lissi." 

Sam giggles and starts putting her stuff away. It's true, too. I don't look much different, just better. My skin looks smoother and the light pink eyeshadow makes my eyes look bluer. Sam winged out my eyeliner a little and smudged it a bit, which makes my eyes look wider. 

"I look great, Sam," I tell her. "I don't know where all these hidden talents come from, but you're seriously amazing." 

She smiles. "Thanks!" she says, then gasps and takes something out her her bag. "I almost forgot; here's some lip balm." 

I roll my eyes and take the little tube. "What are you trying to say?" 

She raises her eyebrows. "That you bite your lips like candy, and they're probably all dry. No one wants to kiss sandpaper lips." 

"Oh, God," I groan, blushing. "You're so embarrassing." 

"It's what I do, who I am, my friend." 

I shake my head and put the lip balm in my pocket. "Seriously, though," I say, "I don't know how you it. When people look at you, i doubt they can even tell that you're so interesting. You're amazing at doing makeup, you know all this shit about ghosts, and you're super smart. People probably just see the girl with purple hair and label you as a punk or whatever." 

She shrugs. "I guess that's why I like things that glow in the dark so much. There's more to it than meets the eye." 

She takes all her stuff and leads the way to the living room. I sneak one more look at the mirror and there's something different than before. Besides the makeup and shiny hair, my eyes are the color of blood. 

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I can't concentrate during the movie, due to the pounding headache that started a few minutes after we got to the theater. I pick up on a few of the jokes and laugh accordingly, but the buzz in my head is killing me. 

"Are you okay?" Josh whispers halfway through the movie. "You haven't even touched the popcorn  or your drink. And don't tell me you don't like popcorn, because you practically ate an entire bowl on your own during Blaire Witch the other night," he jokes. 

I smile half-heartedly. "I'm fine. Just a headache." 

"Do you want to leave early? We can if you want," he offers. 

I shake my head. "No," I reply. "We have to stay; it's just getting good." 

But I'm barely paying attention anymore. Now he thinks you're a fatass. If you didn't eat so much damned popcorn, we wouldn't have this problem. The voice is like knives scraping the inside of my skull. 

Great, my voice of "Logic" is here to make my life even more hell. It's hardly even Logic; all my stupid conscience has been doing lately is ridicule me. Made me feel like shit. 

"You really don't look so good," Josh says a few minutes later. 

"I'm fine," I snap, then catch myself. "Sorry..."

He shakes his head. "It's fine. Why don't we get some air? You look like you could use it." 

"Fine," I sigh and stand up. 

I feel claustrophobic when he holds my hand walking out of the theater. 

You just ruined the entire date.

I take a deep breath and try to ignore the voice. 

"Do you have aspirin?" I ask Josh. 

He shakes his head. "We could walk over the the drugstore, if you want." 

At this point i'm desperate. My head is pounding. 

We leave the theater and start walking down the street towards the nearest Walgreens. 

You're just wasting his time. You're wasting everyone's time- Sam's, Josh's, your parents', mine.

"I'm sorry," I tell Josh. "I'll pay you back for the ticket, I promise." 

Josh just shrugs. "It's cool, we can just rent it when it comes out on DVD." 

I smile. "How are you nice all the time?" I ask. 

"No one's nice all the time." 

Pretty soon you'll die, and everyone can finally live their lives happily without you.

"You are," I reply. 

"Nah, I just like you."

Don't you just wish Lotty could kill you already? Then Josh could stop lying to you all the time.

We reach the store and go in through the sliding doors. The bright lights do nothing for my headache, but I don't say anything. 

"Well no one's outwardly nice to people they don't like." 

I suppose I'll have to do it. 

I stop abruptly. "Okay, my conscience is driving me crazy," I say, surprising myself. 

"What?" He gives me a weird look. 

"At the hospital, you said that everybody argues with themselves," I tell him. "You said it was normal. Well lately my conscience has been sort of turning the world against me. Like negative thoughts all the time. And it keeps saying things like 'you're going to die' and just now, 'I'll do it myself.' I mean, I know I'm going to die, right? That's Lotty's plan. But what does that have to do with my conscience?" 

"It threatens you?" he asks, still looking really confused. 

"I don't know...I guess!" I sound so crazy right now. I'm ruining everything. 

We pick up the aspirin and I insist on paying for it. I take two and we sit on the curb outside. 

"Just forget it. I sound so insane right now." 

Josh shakes his head. "This is the weirdest date ever," he says, then laughs. 

The amusement in his eyes makes me laugh, too. "I definitely agree," I say between gasps of laughter. I don't know why it's so funny, but I don't want to stop laughing. The aspirin is already kicking in, and it dulls the buzzing in my head. 

Our laughter dies down finally and i pull my phone out from my pocket to check the time. "Maybe we can make the next movie," I say, getting to my feet. I flip open my phone and see five missed calls, all from my mom. 

"Shit," I say. My mom hardly ever calls me, and she might be kind of crazy, but I doubt she'd ever call me in the middle of a date unless I was in huge trouble for something. 

"What?" Josh asks. My stomach turns. 

"My mom called me a bunch of times..." I go to voicemail and listen to the message. 

"Double shit," I mutter. "Miranda's in labor and my mom's picking me up." 
♠ ♠ ♠
Okay I'll try to get the next one done by tomorrow night, because I have to finish (and by finish, I mean start) the portrait of my parents that I'm making them for christmas...so I'll be doing that all night, even though I want to write!