• Liquid Corruption

    Just do it.

    The girl snorted. This wasn’t some damn Nike commercial. She wasn’t an athlete, trying to make the big play. This wasn’t the championship game, the winning point resting on her shoulders. This wasn’t a sport, and she wasn’t playing a game.

    You know you want to.

    Oh, there were a lot of things she wanted to do. Like... She lifted her head. Green eyes stalked the room like a tiger eyes roamed the steamy jungles. They rested on her prey. Blonde hair flipped back, accompanied by a high pitched giggle. She wanted to punch her in the face. There were a lot of things she wanted to do, but that didn’t mean she did them.

    She raised the offending object in question to eye level. Really, what was so damn great about it? It didn’t do anything. It didn’t look great. And it sure as hell didn’t look as if it would do anything great.

    Find out.

    Knowledge. She didn’t know what it did. So the only way to obtain an answer to a question is to ask it. And to answer a question one must research the answer in order to provide an adequate conclusion. The tiger stalked the jungle once more, but only to view its streak.

    Bodies were packed so closely together, she wondered how anyone was able to move, nonetheless breathe. Sweat and vomit mixed together to create a charming aroma that made her want to hack off her nose every time she caught a whiff of the growing orgy of friends that claimed to know how to dance. Arms were melded together and it was hard to tell where one person began and another ended. The two speakers that were on the other side of the room were dulled by the din of noise from people yelling, and screaming when they were only three inches away from each other. The bass was the only proof there was a sound system going. Her seat vibrated from all the noise.

    Her eyes focused out the people she called friends, and her ears snuffed out all but a soft static noise. Her eyes, ever vigilant, watched.

    Stormy grey eyes rocked effortlessly against the beat, bumping into random people and falling over, landing on the ground only to get picked up by a random person.

    The scene shifted.

    Backup against a wall in the back corner, her skirt lifted to her hips and her hands wrapped around a neck she had never before talked to the connected appendage.

    Green eyes drew away in disgust and the scene shifted.

    Her body was on the ground, shaking. People were staring at her. But none cared. They danced to the beat, and that was all that mattered.

    All that mattered.

    Green eyes unfocused.

    Let go.

    She did.

    He watched.

    A smirk crossed his lips.

    Straight A’s got you nowhere in the party scene. He remembered the first time he had seen her walk in the hallway. Her books were shifted to one side on her hip, her glasses falling off the edge of her nose, and her skirt riding up the tiniest bit from the pressure on her hip.

    She hadn’t even glanced his way, her nose high in the air. Weather it was to keep her glasses from falling off, or the fact he was nothing better than street trash to her, he didn’t care to think about.

    She was too good for him. Her daddy gave her hearts demands, his dad wasn’t around. She was a diamond, he was just a rock. She was his angel.

    She watched as somebody handed her his demise. His escape.

    He looked up and noted with a grim satisfaction.

    Everyone’s escape.

    Her brown hair fell in curls around her shoulders as she tilted her head one way, and tilted it the other way. His angel then gave out a much undignified snort. Her glasses slipped to the edge of her nose.

    He narrowed his eyes. She stood out from the crowd, the opposite of what he saw at school. She blended in at school, a natural chameleon. A gifted sorceress at invisibility. But here, no. Here she stood out like a butterfly amongst caterpillars.

    Could he let his butterfly die? Flutter her wings out onto the open air, only to be caught in a whirlwind that is too powerful for her newly developed wings?

    He looked down at his hands, coated with dirt and grime. Scars that weren’t visible appeared only to his eye, things, dreadful things, replayed in his head.

    Yes. He could let his butterfly float if only so he could catch her.


    He watched her eyes roam. Cold, calculating, guarded. The green sparkled with interest, her thoughts on a projector, her eyes, and the screen.

    What would she do? What would she do? Would she choose the less traveled path, and leave him with no choice but to be but trash compared to her? Unworthy? Or would she... would she take the fall from heaven, away from her silly God and silly morals?

    Her eyes focused on the object in her hand.

    His grin grew. That was the thing about smart people. Curiosity is a virus. It infects the mind, takes over the body’s actions, and then lives off the hosts own insatiability and thirst for knowledge.

    Amazing.

    His angel closed her eyes. Lifted her hand, and in one smooth motion tilted her head back and poured the brown liquid that floated in the shot glass down her throat.

    Her eyes flew open as she almost chocked the liquid back up, but his angel lost her wings well and held her own.

    She gazed at the shot glass. A poacher.

    She did it.

    Now what?

    Her eyes jumped up from the glass, searching for friends and slightly hazed. He caught her eyes.

    An angel, caught by the ankle, by a demon on her rise back to heaven.

    He smiled at her.

    She blinked, and smiled.

    Corruption is such a beautiful thing.