trick or twink

Trick or twink.

"That's disgusting! Don't call them tricks!"
Enjoying my roost behind my sunglasses i threw back my wine and gave a grunt.
"Don't humph like some silver back gorillia at me!"
"It's distressing to think that you're so far into denial that we're arguing about this. you bring home TRICKS. Tricks are what you pick up at the bar and have a threesome with. Twinks are who you go out on a date with. Get it?"

Gidi was a horrific pouter. Puffing of air, ugly scowl and flipping his head around until someone noticed how furious he was. I am a button pusher. i love how people react when i throw down with them. being introverted and a good listener affords me an enormous reference book of anecdotes, personal history and an instinctual ability to hiss the most cruel insults.

The time i spend with you is merely collecting, not an actual friendship or social interaction. when i was younger i was so depressed and torn up that the time i put into listening to people was never matched. And, really, give me a break. I observe and collect because i'm mentally ill, not because i realistically feel anyone can match that. The ephiphany came to me and I was awash in The Clear. I'm cluttered with sounds, noises, thoughts and demands from my brain. They're always there but I do have eeirie times where it all halts and suddenly it happens. The first time it hit me was when i was very little and I had been trapped in weekly ritual of being savaged by my aunts boyfriend. i might as well have short circuted. I was so agreeable. I was so eager to please and being ripped apart was such a contradiction. But I did what you wanted and you're still punishing me? I was mute and stunned. This went on for a few more rounds with me being a perfect fuck doll that didn't move and also didn't put up a fight.

all the voices in my head that kept me going stopped arguing in these incidents and began screaming. they all sounded different... but in terror they made a sweeping agreement to cry out at the same time. i couldn't believe he didn't hear them all... he had to have heard them shriek and beat the bone on my forehead. there's no way i was the only person who heard it.

each time it was over, i was picked up by my arm and chucked into the shower. he'd leave me in there and i was trained to know i had to wait a bit. inside the tub i felt so out of it... the screaming was calming down... only a few of the voices cried out to me asking what happened while the more stubborn ones left to regroup.

he must have flushed a toilet downstairs and the water went so cold it made me gasp. there it was so clear and focused. no chatter only understanding. instead of my machine gun fire of thoughts and anxiety i was calm.

you need to get dried off and go downstairs. you need to go downstairs and you need to take out the biggest knife in the butcher block and throw yourself into the wall with it pointed to your heart.

up i went and felt as casual as anyone would walking through their house. i took an extra towel to dry off my hair and made my way into the kitchen. the tv was on. i'm sure it must be tiring to rape children, might as well take it easy and catch what's on the tv.

pulling out the big cutting knife i felt it wobble in my small hand as i turned it around. The Calm was still there. a pat on the back telling me i pulled out the right one and it was time to get things finished.

he caught me walking out of the kitchen and calmly asked where i was going with the knife.

"i'm going to kill myself, it's ok."

The Calm stood behind me and i felt like there was a hand on my shoulder squeezing me. be careful....

"No... just give me the knife, ok?"

"it's going to fix things. I don't want to give it to you."

He looked terrified. A dead kid in the house where he was supposed to be babysitting? A dead kid that no doubt would have lead to an investigation and review on why a 10 year old had a blown out asshole and a knife run through him.

But I realized in all my inane chatter with him I had his number. Standing there i felt a tiny river of warm blood run down my leg like a streak of piss. the knife handle felt much lighter and The Calm showed me what it's actual intent was. And I smiled.

"you're in trouble, roger."

"listen, nathan... put the knife down."

"no. I don't think I will. I hurt all over and I don't think your daughter will let you see her kids any more if I tell her what you did to me."

"what?" he couldn't understand what was prompting me.

The Calm hooked a transparent arm around me from behind. A little squeeze. you're doing such a good job.

I was doing a good job, dammit. I saw how much ground I was gaining, how terrified he was that the passive little fatso was turning mean and downright evil.
"Roger you need to understand something... You can't do That anymore to me. Never again. Do you understand?"
"i... I... I do. please put the knife down. your aunts will be home from bingo soon."
"I know."
the dead bolt clapped open. Did The Calm know they'd be home any time now?
i ripped the knife down my left arm in one sweeping cut and let the knife clatter to the floor as I immediately felt faint from the instant steam of blood. down I toppled as my aunts screamed at the mess i made. Roger wasn't around much any more after that.

The Calm wasn't something i could command on a whim, but I was greatful that I found it. The incident let me know just how brutally smart I am manipulating people. I could have just called the police. I could have told a teacher... but no, the only thing Roger didn't rape and fuck was his daughter and grandchildren. The horror in his eyes told me I got to the quick of the issue in the most brutal of methods. It's never left me but served me well thus far. from something so terrible i gained my greatest super power. hurray for me.