#langdo--n

16. Undress my character

coughs

    It's raining; she's cold and all she wants to do is sleep. She's regretting sneaking out now, because she knows that she'll end up going back; and the punishment for disobeying will be far worse than she can take.

                     { drip, drip, drip }

    And then she sees it; a house, one that seems to be unoccupied and the girl can't pass this up. No, that would be silly. She most likely wouldn't find another place to stay the night, and this creepy old house would be better than nothing.

                                                      She was sure of it.

    Letting herself in, Cass began to wiggle around like a wet dog. She was freezing, and the more water she got off, the better. It was a nice house, Cass liked it. So much so that she began to walk around as if it were her own. There was nothing wrong with a little make believe, was there? No, not all; at least not to Cass.

Violet woke up rather suddenly, sitting up in bed immediately. She’d just had an amazing night — with who other than the most popular boy in school. He had old her that she was beautiful, he had touched her in ways no other had before, he took her to the stars. But, when she rolled over to wake him, no one was there. She smiled to herself, maybe he’s making you coffee downstairs.

Violet rolled out of her bed, and padded over to her mirror. Bruises that resembled handprints and fingertips coated her ass and hip area. The blonde loved to be bruised, and she had a feeling that Tate liked to bruise people. Her leg muscles were rather sore, but last night was certainly worth it. Deciding to be cute, Violet slipped on an oversized sweater, and started downstairs to the kitchen. Tate was nowhere to be found. “Tate?” She called out, confused. Where did he go?

She went back to her bedroom, spying a note on her night stand. Picking it up, she read,

Vi, Last night was amazing. You were amazing. I left a bit early to get ready for school, and drop my car back at my place. I’ll talk to you in an hour at most.

—Tate

She smiled at the note, something she’d been doing a lot lore often now that she began to talk to Tate. Violet pulled on a floral dress, purple tights, and a yellow cardigan — her favorite outfit. Nothing would be able to bring her down today.

+ actualsilverargent

      Rain. It was raining. The noises from outside were like little pounds of miniature drums as it hit ground and the lights were just a sun of mist. It was beautiful.

              The little flower became the observer. There was no noise escaping her pink cherry lips, not even from her dark brown orbs. Nothing. All her time was wasted that same morning on a big and lonesome window down the stairs with a notebook in hand along with a pen. No one knew what she was writing, no one wanted to bother her.

                             Or so it seemed.

       It didn't take long for her to get bored, slamming the notebook shut with a sigh and leaning her head back until it hit the surface of the wall. What to do, what to do...

                 Remembering she brought her radio down the stairs the other day, she went on a search, like a rabbit hunt. It didn't take long for her to spot it and thank that the twins didn't mess with it at all. Her old CD was still inside so, she decided to press play to only quietly sing the music as it blasted out the fragile speakers and get a lighter out with a Marlboro pack of cigarettes. It was to be a grand time.