Chapter 5

<p>I easily imagined Sarah's home life to be extravagant, given that she was engaged and always showed up to school in the trendiest threads. You do not need any more proof than two assets that speak volumes: your relationship life and your appearance. She had everything. The only reason we didn't turn up our noses and laugh at her upon her arrival to our table? She belonged with cooler people. It was simple.<br/> We all idolized her. I, a hedonistic pile of disgrace behind closed doors. Miranda Saint, the preppy ringleader. The rest of the cheerleading squad that lit up every time she spoke to them, being too sophisticated and dedicated to life outside of high school to merely practice cheer with us. She did, however, come to our meets to watch us compete. There she would stand with the crowd, clapping her hands at our aerials and successful tosses that weren't bailed on nor decreased to a lower caliber of difficulty to prevent serious injuries at competitions. <br/> (We weren't the prestigious group of girls at our meets. We sucked in comparison to about five other high schools that enslaved their cheerleaders to perform to nonhuman extents.)<br/> I sat in English class next to Sarah writing a poem about her. Next to it is an illustration I quickly drew of a cartoon squid. Each of his nine arms indicate a level of which I wanted to own her soul. In nine different ways. He constricted her fine hair with his slippery tentacles. His suction cups on her skin a sheer indication of my need to possess her to myself. To wrap her up in my relinquished, tired soul, give her my devotion, leaving her bound to me. <br/> I didn't sleep at all the night before. Kyle Lewis, a linebacker on the football team sold me some crystal meth to catalyze my spell work the afternoon prior. Drugs alter fractals in our non-linear progression called time. Something that limits us in a universe sworn to all things possible. I sat for five hours atop bed subsequent to shooting the methamphetamine into my arm repeating my beauty mantra in less words. <br/> I also nearly offed myself in the process. Spun out, I drank lime water to the point of near water intoxication. My electrolytes multiplied, my vision blurring as the meth maintained my heart beat from going too irregular.<br/> I have a long way to go in pharmacology, a huge part of modern magic. Sometime before I was a lesbian, during my last conversation with an M.D. I had been fucking for months, I was told I needed to be my own doctor when using illicit and prescription drugs. That there was only so much emergency room staff could do to treat overdoses that lead to longterm damage of the brain and liver. It was the simple reason I no longer fucked with opiates, their only beneficial purpose being to numb emotional pain caused by betrayal – an essence of life most humans are not made to handle. That, or trick someone into believing they are having the time of their life before you snub them for their money after they drop onto the floor. <br/> I once stole eight hundred bucks from a date's wallet after showing him fentanyl in a needle. I called the ambulance, pulling out my academy award-winning mewl and told them he had been shooting it up himself. The reality couldn't be farther from the deception I played off to the dispatcher, who heard the innocent valley girl in my voice. <br/> When the woman on the other line asked for my name and I had given her Lena's. They had no ways of checking while someone was literally dying in front of me. As soon as I was off the phone, I left his apartment, muttering "sucker" in Italian to his purple face before I disappeared out the door. The man had admitted to actively molesting his seven year old daughter while his wife enslaved herself at work from her afternoon nursing shift at the hospital. I was nothing but his assailant from that point. One who knew the ambulance would take too long to get to the east side town. <br/> So I cold-bloodedly killed someone. My philosophy taught me to destroy others who killed inner peace belonging to the innocent. That ritualistic procedures involving children were selfish practices to empower one's inabilities to pursue their survival on their own. I hated unnecessary practices to gain power. I was a victim to pedophilia and bullying so many years ago; my life never being the same after my uncle took me out for "ice cream" with his – yet another occurrence in my accidental threesomes I always encountered – Luciferianist blonde wife. <br/> They touched me in the backseat at twelve years old, threatening to fuck me up and have me kidnapped if I spoke to anyone. They reappeared in my life later as Lena and Ryan, two demons who tempted me with sex and drugs. (I later configured Lena to be a siren with her irresistible allure, Ryan an obvious dark-eyed, raven-haired werewolf with no tribe.) Evil things do come in threes; the only part they don't tell you is that one of the three people involved are victim to two in a power couplet.</p>