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eh heh... wrote this a few weeks ago. It had been my first prose I'd written in about a year, which is why it's not that good; I could've prepped it and modified it a lot better and phrased things differently, and closed even more loose ends, but eh. I didn't. I'd appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, though. sweatdrop


Title: Creepy Crawlies.

"Look at me."

I avoided the persistent gaze.

"Look at me." There's that voice again. Grating on my ears. Maybe I don't want to look at you.

"Look at me." It's too much of a direct order. It really can't be ignored. Glaring a thousand curses, I raised my green orbs to meet his blue. Shining with care. Care? He never cared before. Sonuva-- He never cared before. His eyes are lying, I know him too well. But I've heard eyes lead right down to your soul. Is he lying? I can't tell. He's lied so often before. But is he lying...? I really don't know --

"It wasn't your fault."

Oh yes it was, I thought bitterly to myself, scuffing my toe in the carpet. I looked at his hands, one hand enveloping the other, calm, serene, gentle hands. I looked down at mine, dirty from days of running them through my hair, agigtated, nervous, and noticed they were twitching and fiddling with the seam of my shirt. I stopped their movement. Of course it was my fault. It was all my fault. It always was. He's always told me so. My fault the milk spilled, my fault dad lost his job, my fault there was the accident --

"Please, look at me, Mirrim." I'd been watching the progress of my finger fiddling with the promise ring. The promise ring from Michael. A promise? Yes, a promise that you'd break it, my fingers seemed to say. Twiddling and twirling the shiny silver band with a speck of green emerald, like a dying plant of hope. You never meant any promise you said you'd keep. You lied. And so did he. My eyes shot up to his hair, the way it was tousled, probably from lack of sleep and then not brushing it, the shape of his ears, the way his mouth moved when he spoke my name. At least, he is speaking my name, right? I can't really hear him right now. His lips are moving but they're all lies, anyway, so it doesn't matter. I can almost see them pouring out of his mouth, pouring out like a steady stream of disgusting flies and bugs, creepy-crawlies reflecting their intentions on the surface, crawling up their way across my skin and making me twitch and slithering their way up towards my eyes--

"Mirrim. Look at me." I blinked. The bugs were gone. His eyes were blue and shiny. Shiny like the stones in the ocean that day. The waves would wash over the stones, caress them with gentle water. Kenny would be splashing in the water, too. He'd be picking up one of those shiny stones. I told him we were going to swim with dolphins the last time we were at the beach. I touched my necklace, the charm being a seashell Kenny had found, and I'd drilled a hole in it and strung it around my neck on a thin string. I never did take him with the dolphins. Mom and Dad said we had to leave then. I hadn't exactly lied to him, we just had to leave. He'd been so sad... He should've been six today. Six years old. That's too young to die--

"Look at me." I was watching my hands again. The voice disturbed me. Damn that voice, damn his lies. The bugs were back, blinding me, making my eyelashes twitch and blink, trying to get them to go away. Crawling up to my eyes. My eyes were itching. All those lies. They said Kenny would be fine, they said he'd be out of the hospital soon, they said he'd survive. He said he'd survive. Michael said he'd be there for me. My eyes felt as though they were burning now. I tried rubbing them and something wet came away with my fingers. What's that? Are the bugs still crawling up me?

"Please stop crying." I was crying? I was crying? I hadn't noticed. I really hadn't. Really. My hands were shaking when I looked down. I folded them carefully.

"I'm not crying," I replied, my voice firm and even, meeting his gaze. You don't see bugs flying from MY mouth, do you, you rotten liar. Do you? You b*****d, you let Kenny die, I don't even know how, but you --

"Are you listening to me?" His mouth had been moving again. I hadn't noticed because of all those bugs flying around. All those lies flying around.

"Yes," I said. A few more bugs were added to the fray.

"Please, relax, there's no need to be so agitated."

I stopped my fingers from picking the scabs on my arms. "I'm not agitated."

"Then pay attention, please." Lies, they're all lies, they're-- Wait, what?

"I am," I replied.

"Your face gives you away."

I stared at his left ear. I didn't want to look at those blue eyes. Those truthful orbs, so unlike my own. I couldn't face them. Then what am I thinking now, you psychic jerk? I tugged at my skirt and smoothed it. It didn't look right. But I'm not agitated. I put my fingers on my knees, and then started scratching at my skin. I'm not agitated. I stopped. Wasn't there something about karma this same guy was talking about before? Yeah. Karma. Your retribution, you liar. But are you a liar? Maybe you hadn't been lying all those other times. Maybe I was hallucinating. My eyes focused somewhere on his right arm. Maybe I'm the liar -- no, I'm not. Wasn't he talking about how being around people makes you more like those people? He's a liar. And Michael was a liar. That doesn't mean I'm one. No, I'm not a liar. I'm not. I'm not. My fingers were twitching again.

"I'm not lying," I told him. And a few more bugs trickled out.

xd sweatdrop Heh, I'm glad you liked it, but I think that's pretty much all there was to say... whee sweatdrop Thanks for liking it though, hah ^^;;

That's really good! Confusing as hell but I really like it anyway, wouldn't change a thing except make more...