A year ago I wrote a short story. I just found it, so i thought I'd share it with you all.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was driving me fucking nuts. It was awful enough that I was made to sit at the table with these monsters, why the fuck did he have to slam the pen down on the table while he was thinking. I’m above this. I am better than you. Alice knew she was beautiful and she knew this was all she needed. She had cheekbones that Vogue would plaster on their covers and legs so long she would stand with her hip kinked, watching people watch her. Sure her hips were boyishly small and her hair thin from a bad diet but her eyelashes were long and a well defined cupid’s bow, only exaggerated by a dark lipstick, made her more than desirable. Her breasts were described as swollen insect bites but only by the girls without the will power to say no to chocolate or too lazy to run after a packet of crisps. Alice knew she was the center of the world and everyone loved her. Anyone that was a someone anyway. Guest of honour, Queen of the year. A sexual fantasy to men and inspiration to the women with broken, faulty metabolisms. Aesthetic perfection. Alice knew she could have whatever she wanted and if she wasn’t being chained to this table she would be sniffing some talk off a mirror or getting a round in for the girls via some sweaty loser in a room too full of LEDs. Walls lined with mirrors curved to make everyone tall and slim. Rooms full of disgusting people who she tolerated because they gave her pills and drinks, smokes and above all compliments. Alice may have been beautiful but she was not independent and this brought Alice back to the fury of being caged in with these circus freaks on a Friday night. Scraping the fat filled, figure destroying trash Julie had served from one side of the plate to the other. It made her want to scream, to tear her veins from her arms and bleed out all over the pristine alpaca rug underneath her. The gelatinous mess was more closely related to the new lube Dan had given her than being any form of sustenance to herself. It was ok for Julie, the fat cunt, who had not only given up on herself after her Father’s second marriage but seemed to gain some perverted pleasure in expanding her waist and becoming so physically repulsive that she was the cause for a quarter of the city’s eating disorders. Dad, I swear to God, if you keep tapping that pen I’ll tear it from your hands and ram it straight up my nose. “Please stop tapping the pen Dad.” The pen became stationary and Julie’s face distorted; a deep crimson diffused from her eyes until her whole face contracted into a hideous prolapse. “How D-DARE you speak to your father like that. A-a-after everything he does for you throughout the day so you can l-l-ive your pathetic life. He slaves away at his desk so that you can go sniff and pop poison into you b-” “Julie, it’s quite ok”. Dad momentarily interrupts Julie’s rabid barking, but before the gushing foam from her bent toothed crooked abscess can crash onto the polished oak table, “INTO YOUR BODY, YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO ORDER HIM AROUND LIKE YOUR SLAVE. HE CAN’T COME HOME TO QUIETLY LOOK OVER A CROSSWOR-“. I hate you, you make me so miserable that the only time I escape the cold grip of depression is when I kill you. I kill you over and over. I rip your nails from your horrid fat hands. I kick you, an all natural punching bag, hung from the ceiling by old meat hooks. I tear your hair out in clumps and watch as your fat oiled head bleeds out down your face. Your teeth are crushed with pliers. I drive screws into your joints and wash your revolting body with coarse sandpaper. I kill you so I don’t kill myself. “I’m excusing myself.” I flatly spout while Julie stops in between breaths. I get up from the chair, I notice the well defined gap between my thighs and smile. “AND WHAT DO YOU THINK IS SO - SO FUNNY. I-I—I-.” Julie’s rage has over spilled and she has to cough up thick chunks of black before continuing. My Dad sits there, useless and pathetic while I run through the easiest way out of the house and whether I’ve eaten too much to wear my crop top tonight. A thick fog of breath is expelled from Julie’s lungs. “You’re tearing this family apart Alice. You are a disgusting excuse for a daughter. Chris, don’t just sit there, you must support me.” My Dad lamely looks up at me, his eyes crooked and pulled apart from the small glasses that sit over his eyes. He blinks but says nothing. “CHRIS?” I slowly slide my chair back under the table. “Don’t you dare leave this room young lady. Not until I’ve finished. If you think you can be such a little shit, a waste of space, a bullshit spreading foul woman then you have another thing coming. I came into this family only with love. I came knowing how disturbed you were. I came to fix you but you pushed me away, you pushed GOD away and I can’t do it anymore Alice. Things are going to change aro-” I’ve had it, I can’t do it. Julie’s monologue starts to blur. I’m so sick my joints are crushed within an invisible vice and my stomach is pulled down and through my skeletal frame. I turn around towards the front door but time has slowed to the point where I worry I may die before I stop spinning. The old grandfather clock, scratched and unwound, blends into the various renaissance prints crudely balanced on ledges and the blandness of cheap silver religious ornaments with boring off white cracked walls blends into a revolting nothingness. Julie’s barks are still rebounding off the soft shell of the dining room but their echoes are inaudible in the hallway. The hard floor grounds me and knowing I am connected to something unmoving calms me. Scenes of revenge and vengeance play at 32 times speed. Screenshots of blood, violence and after parties. I only realise I’m outside as I hear our heavy door shut in on itself. I can’t even remember turning the handle, or stepping off the curb. I’m not sure why but I look right. I’m thankful I did. It was only a moment, a fraction of time. Insignificant to everyone but me, however it contained a lifetime’s relief and happiness. I couldn’t tell you the colour, size or make. I can’t remember how big the headlights were or if the screaming man had a passenger sat next to him. I think the ground was wet but whether or not is was raining that night I wont know. I do know that I felt a warm happiness wash over me. That this unbearable pressure was washed away, barks were muffled and for the first time in years I was hungry. I was starving. Oh to be given a hamburger! My nose was flushed with warmth and a smile cracked across my angular cheeks. I was embraced by the front fender, I relaxed into the bonnet spilling all over, warmed by the still running engine. I could hear my father’s shoes on the ground. Urgent legs flaying, leather soles slam into the ground. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.