“Prick.”

 

 

Writer : PainlessLaceration under the Carrendar name.

 

 


Life always seems to have its up’s and down’s. A fucking roller coaster ride. You can never predict what it will throw at you. A curve ball that will either make you or end you. Sometimes, you just can’t handle the pressure. You snap. You find a way to cope. Sex, money, food, drugs.. Something, anything to make you feel more.. Alive. Everyone needs a escape. Everyone needs a chance to forget life and earth and just say fuck it and go on to their happy place. You can relax, you don’t have to worry about anyone telling you “No, you can’t do that stop.” You can be yourself. Well, for the most part.

Ignaitus Jekowski was never really understood by anyone. She and her twin were the troublemakers, they demanded respect and if they didn’t get it, it was your death wish. But her brother was still the one everyone loved. They respected him, and he was a nice guy for the most part. Stay on his good side and he was cool. No one knew him like Iggy did, not even their parents. Kain deep down was a very dark person, with a lot of weight on his shoulders. He kept a smile on his face and still acted like one cocky care free son of a bitch. Iggy, however, was the quiet girl. She wasn’t part of the crowd, yet she was. She was neither above, nor below, nor equal to anyone. She was just there. Either for props or Kain just felt bad for leaving her behind. She was a punching bag, a practice tool. If you wanted to be around Kain you had to be around Iggy, the chick you stared you down and didn’t give a true fuck about anyone or anything. Kain was hers and she was always jealous of anyone stealing him from her for even a moments time.

After the accident, Iggy turned very much like her brother. She wasn’t a stone, but she was close. She wore that mask that made everyone think she was alright, and very few saw through it. She used music as her escape. The guitar poured out her emotions, everything she once felt and feels now. But it wasn’t enough. It never is enough. Hiding in her room, she closed the blinds, turned the light off. It was just about dawn, the air outside crisp and cool. Maybe it was about to rain, maybe not. A twinge of childhood peeked up, imagining herself outside spinning around with her throat to the sky, basking in the rains glory. It died as quickly as it came, coming to another painful realization that she had grown up and such things were no longer accepted in adult society. Her buttocks sank into her cot of a bed, a nerve twitching at the right edge of her mouth. Tank top and boxers clothed her degrading form, her pale skin having blotches of black and blue, a left eye glued shut with puss, black and purple. A split open lip. Maybe a cracked rib or two. Her knuckles were bloody, her insides felt as though someone took a sledgehammer to her gut. Yeah, no going out for a few nights. A smile crept over her gravely features, teeth knocked loose, but not knocked out. “The bastard got it worse” She told her uncle, appalled by his nieces appearance.
This was true. Bad waste of whiskey, good use of a weapon. One good smack across the face with a glass bottle and its over, you’re out like a light. Quite frankly she should have pulled a blade on him, like the one in her pocket. Heh, then again when your face is getting caved in you forget about that and you grab whatever s handy, in this case a bottle. Okay, the man was in your eyes in the wrong. You don’t hit a woman. Try to take advantage of her just because she’s drunk, and you might succeed. Unfortunately,  the guy wasn’t so lucky, and BAM! Punches were thrown. Iggy however, doesn’t care. If a woman hits a man, she is considered using self defence  A man hits a woman and he’s tagged as a wife beater. It’s bull shit. It tells society that woman are fragile and need to be treated as fragile little things. Bullocks. None of that. Aftermath: Iggy is no longer allowed at that bar, she’s probably gonna have the cops after her soon. Guy got’s shit tons of glass in his head. Iggy has a fucking SPLITTING headache. Fuck me.

The pounding in her head made her dizzy, and her uncle yelling and ranting didn’t help at all. “What if Adam finds out, hm? He’ll drag you’re ass back to the US so fast it’ll make your head spin. What about Hedwig? Damn it Igniatus!” A giant fist to the dry wall caused Iggy to jump up, ready to lay into him. She wasn’t in a mood for the BS. She had far more important things to worry about.

“Y-y-y-you are n-not my dad! A’ight? I’m a ad-ad-adult. I don’t n-n-need y-you w-wa-wa-watching out fer’ mes.” Her good eye shot a wicked glare at him, her body twitching with both pain and anxiety. The fight was hours ago and you could tell she was ready for more. Getting drunk makes you bloodthirsty, to the point you’ll force yourself into a fight. Igniatus was fully aware of the boundaries she was stepping over, and she didn’t give a flying fuck.

“NO! YOU FUCKING LISTEN TO ME IGNIATUS JEKOWSKI!” Benjamin yelled, daring to take a step forward. Benjamin was a 6’2 wall of muscle. A rugby player, he had his fair share of brawls. Blonde hair, brown eyes, the 36 year old took after his father. Ben was divorced, one kid. A little boy. Hadn’t seen him since the child was one. He’s 16 now. After Igniatus moved in, he had taken on the role of “daddy”. It was horrible.

Igniatus braced herself. She was so pissed! Who the fuck did he think he was? She lived there, yes. Did she engaged with his life? Hell no. She went her own way, he when his own way. They talked when they had to. If one didn’t need the other, they stayed away. Now, ever since.. THERE! Ever since Death Club.. All of a sudden he fucking cares. No. She’s not five. She can handle her own.

“Listen? LISTEN?! Nein! Y-y-y-you listen t-t-to me. I-I-I came h-h-here t-to start over, over, over.” She strained to get the words out. Her hands waved, splitting open the cuts on her knuckles. She tried to force her black eye open, fluid drained from it and made it sting. Hurt like a bitch, but she had to look him in the eye. Both eyes. With her back to the wall, she continued.
“Da and ma sent me here, t-t-telling me I-I’d be b-b-better off h-here. The, the, the real r-reason? They c-c-couldn’t stand t-the s-s-s-sight of m-me, kn-know-knowing I l-let their l-little boy get s-slaughtered.”

“Kain’s death was not your fault!”

“YES IT WAS! I-I-I was s-s-suppose t-to protect him. And I didn’t. I l-l-let him die. I-I-I couldn’t even g-go to his funeral, uncle! I c-c-came to Prague. Everything I kn-kn-knew and l-loved was s-stripped from me. Every. F-fucking. Thing. M-my f-f-friends. M-my family. M-m-my life. I c-c-come h-here. I t-try to make myself kn-kn-kn-known. I c-c-can’t f-f-fucking s-s-s-start o-ver w-w-when you’re t-t-treating me like a c-c-child!”

“You are a child! For Christ sakes Igniatus, you can’t just go out and expect everything to go your way! Do you realize what could have happened? You could have been killed.”

“W-w-well unf-f-unfortunately, I’m s-s-till here.” And with this she pointed at the door, clearly done with him. “G-g-get out.”
He left. Well, slammed the door after telling her she could go fuck herself. In all her lonesome, she slumped against the wall, fists balled so tight her knuckles were the colour of ivory. She closed her eyes, wiping away the gunk that dripped down her cheek. She needed to attend her wounds, but her pride wouldn’t let her step out that door.

You want action. You want to see her snatch up a ash tray and throw it at the back of his head, spilling his blood in cold hatred. You want to see them throw things, get so angry smoke comes out of their ears like cartoon characters. I pity you. Humans expect the worst, they WANT the worst. But when they don’t receive it, they are utterly disappointed  Benjamin and Igniatus always fought. Whether it be because of Iggy’s habit to get into trouble, or Benjamin being too close. Whatever the case may be, Igniatus ended up wishing she was home.

Didn’t matter. She was stuck here. No money, no way out. Slipping a hand under her pillow, she pulled out a box. It was a creamy blue colour, about as long as your forearm and about four inches in width. Opening the box, she moved her head over to where she could see the box with her good eye. Inside the box, were a variety of things. A rubber band, a small glass bottle containing a clear liquid, and a few syringes. The syringes had already been used, the small bottle nearly empty. Rolling her aching shoulders, she managed to find her phone and dial up a number (after countless attempts to dial the right number).

“R-R-Ralph? Ja, z’it’s me.”

Silence.

“Ja, w-w-when c-c-can you g-g-get m-m-m-me more?”
Again silence. Snapping off the bed, she grabbed her wallet and opened it up, pulling out some euros. “Ja, I-I-I have its. Y-y-y-ou’ll b-b-bring it th-th-then?”

“Good.” She hung up the phone. Tossing it back on the bed she sat back down, taking the rubber band and lacing it up her right arm up to the shoulder. She could feel it begin to cut off her blood supply. She then took a syringe and opened the small bottle, removing the last of its contents into the syringe. Swallowing a lump in her throat (she always had a problem with needles) she began to flex her right arm, waiting for a vein to pop up. None did. Great. Ripping the rubber band off, she shoved the needle into her wrist, grunting and hissing, digging around till she found one, then pushed the clear substance into her system. The prick of the needle caused her wrist to bleed, drops of the metallic scarlet staining her bed sheets, running down her arm as if they were racing.

A gasp, the sudden rush of relief, like a cold wave. It raced through her system, her breath slowed, deep breaths. Her legs would have gave out on her had she been standing. The morphine did its job. Mustering up the strength she placed the syringe and bottle back into the box and tucked it away. She sighed softly. The pounding of her head drifted away, the world around her blurred. Igniatus laid down. Blinked twice. Thought of DC. Seconds ticked away.

“Here’s t-to y-y-ou, b-brother..”

Black out.