Blisters
Her fingers are white.
Tiny disgusting lines.
Long elegant lines.
White.
White.
"I want more," She whispers when she finds the white powder. Tucked secretly away in a hidden compartment on her dead father's desk. It's like Christmas when she finds it; white and fake and disgusting.
Doesn't know what to do when she finds it. Doesn't know to cry or holler when she finds out that daddy's a druggie.
Using powder to run away caused he had no life.
Running and running cause God cut him down a long time ago.
Placing the baggie on the desk, she looks at the baggie until she's sure his shadow is covering her.
"I want more," she repeats again to the baggie, although she's not sure what the hell she's talking about. Didn't the hatter once say that you can't have more of something you've never had?
Shaking nervous digits grab hold of the baggie, fingers prying it open and dumping the shit all over her dead daddy's desk.
Using her fingers (not a razor like those classy bitches in dem American films) she lines the powder up. Only enough for eight lines.
Enough. Does she want more?
Her fingers are white.
White.
She swears her fingers are bleeding
White.
She just stares as eight lines stare back at her.
Take a sniff. She does.
Her head splits open and Athena is born.
She swears her fingers are bleeding
Disclaimer
and
concrit greatly appreciated.