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Post by cyle xavier sinclair on Jun 11, 2010 1:38:29 GMT -5
it's clean,it's pure, it's rare; [/b][/size] [/center] it takes me there [/size][/center]
Cyle was here for the second time this week. Not exactly to sell, but rather to observe. Last time he was here Amber snatched him up so quickly he didn't get to see many of his favorites. For some reason, watching skin graphs and other odd surgeries take place interested Cyle. He knew that under all of that new tattooed on makeup, or the brand new eye color and lip stain, that every scalpel slut was the same. Insecure about everything. Hating each and every breath they took because they all think they were meant for something so much greater than what they were born into. It sickened him to see people unhappy, but even more so unhappy without a cause. Cyle's mind imagined him walking into a tent and screaming "YOU'RE UGLY." just to see if he could make someone cry and change their appearance yet again. He chuckled to himself as he entered his favorite alley way.
Tonight, there weren't as many people as he thought there'd be. A few girls in black and white tights were stretched out on a filthy mattress and a small group of girls and guys were hanging on the fire escapes of their buildings. The air was full of whispers as he walked by. A few said his name, but he waved them off. His Z would be for his own pleasure tonight. If left alone for a long period of time, he could waste five vials and not even sweat it. He knew that was extreme, but on Z everything was better. And that's all Cyle wanted was for everything to be better.
He saw a small niche in the wall by the garbage tank and he smiled. This would be his home for the night. Shooting up, passing out and repeating the process. It was so simple, and yet it had so much of an effect. Cyle took a seat in the corner of the hole. Now, he was barely visible to the people who walked by. The only thing you could see was the glow of his vial as he twisted it gently into the gun. A smirk played on his lip as he pressed the gun to his neck. That was his favorite place, because it felt like a rush to the head almost immediately. The gun sparked and the flowing, glowing liquid filled Cyle's body. The pens and needles in his tired legs turned into lead weights as the bottom half crept into the numb reality it loved. Cyle's head twisted to look out of the small 'doorway'. He watched as people passed and smirked to himself. There was no other life, this was it.
I can't feel nothin' at all He thought to himself drunkenly.
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Post by annabelle lee grace on Jun 11, 2010 1:48:07 GMT -5
"If I crash on the couch can I sleep in my clothes?" Annabelle's toes were the only part of her body touching the ground. She felt heavy and like a feather all at once. The first time in a week having a shot or two, or three of Z was taking her higher and higher. "Cause I spent the night dancing, I'm drunk I suppose!" She twirled as she sang, giggling, her tattered leather boots felt like weights around her legs. Each step was another ripple in the dirt, leaving little indentions from where her foot had previously been. She bumped into a tall, dark haired man. "Oooooops." She smiled up at him and pushed off his chest, almost falling to the ground.
"If it looks like I'm laughing I'm really just asking to leave!" Annabelle stood in the middle of the crowd, the bright lights smearing across the tents as she tilted her head back and twisted her feet, spinning in circles as fast as she could. She felt as though she could fly. Her skirt twisted and twirled with her body, hitting gently at her knees, letting the cool breeze touch her skin-though she couldn't feel it.
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Post by cyle xavier sinclair on Jun 11, 2010 2:01:48 GMT -5
it's clean,it's pure, it's rare; [/b][/size] [/center] it takes me there [/size][/center]
It felt like hours had past since Cyle's hit of Z turned into a mega-sleeping pill. His eyes fluttered open as the piercing sound of girlish giggling sounded in his ears. Hardly anyone in these alleys had the vocal cords to produce such sounds, so he stuck his head out of his small niche and examined the situation.
He watched her dance drunkenly around the lounging and sleeping homeless addicts. The sights that seemed to haunt most people just made her giggle even more, which made Cyle smirk devilishly. She looked odd, and that was the kind of girl he liked.
In a groggy voice he spoke to her, You seem like a girl who likes to party. He coughed slightly, not realizing the dryness of his throat and mouth at the moment. His messy, brown hair clung to the brick behind his head as he scooted even more into the light to get a good look at her. Her hair was jet black and reminded him of a raven. It was long and looked almost perfect in the light.
Hey! Girl! Dancing!, he noticed she looked his way, Yeah, You. C'mon over here. I'll give you a free hit. He smirked at his intentions, the amount of Z that flowed through him not allowing a full smile. There was run for two in his cubbie hole.
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Post by annabelle lee grace on Jun 11, 2010 2:13:28 GMT -5
Her head jerked around, looking for the sound of the man's voice. She could tell it was a man because the voice was much much deeper than hers. Her lips painted black pulled up in the corners, into a smile as she walked over to him. She knelt in front of him, her skirt engulfing her legs as she was squatting in front of him. A tight fitting dark maroon, almost black, corset covered her shoulders and was cut high on her chest, keeping her body modestly covered. She tilted her head sideways, her long tangled hair falling around her shoulders. "Well hi." Her small pale hand emerged from her lap, waving softly at him. "How are you mister?"
Annie's eyes got distracted from her question as she focused on his face in the dim light, trying to make out his features. Bouncing back and forth from eyes, hair, to his nose, eyes, his throat, she couldn't seem to focus. With the opposite hand of the one she waved at him with she reached out and put her hand on his cheek. "You have very nice skin." Her voice was soft and perfect. Ann's glazed blue eyes lit up as she refocused from looking at her hand on his cheek to staring at his nose. A small giggle came from her throat as a light red blush rose in her cheeks as she poked his nose. "So what's your name?"
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Post by cyle xavier sinclair on Jun 11, 2010 11:30:45 GMT -5
it's clean,it's pure, it's rare; [/b][/size] [/center] it takes me there [/size][/center]
He has successfully drew her near him, and that was enough to cause him to smile. She seemed to act like a child would, or at least a teenage girl. Though Cyle was only nineteen, he was much more mature than most the people he surrounded himself with. Though, here you didn't have an age. Just money and women.
As she crouched to him he shifted his weight to sit up a little straighter, to be more appealing. A whole 30 degrees of the shoulders could be much more inviting than slouching. Well, at least that's what his books on body language. Cyle, before he was introduced to the outside world, read books about people. He had never had any friends growing up except for one so his time was spent learning to his best ability about the human race. Before he didn't even feel like he was human. Of course, he had the same skin, hair, and even had the same number of toes and fingers as everyone else, but he always felt unconnected. That was until he was introduced to Z by a random grave robber, and after that it was all clear to him. He smiled at the thought and turned his attention back to the girl who was now speaking.
I'm doing fantastic, and how are you dear? His smile was cunning and alluring, though the amount of Z in his body made it hard to look as devilish and sly with just a smile.
He looked into her eyes as best he could, but with them moving all over his face he just scowled and looked at the top of her head. It surprised him when she placed a hand on his cheek, and even more when she said the words 'nice skin'. It was the most ironic thing he'd probably ever heard, so he let out a small dark chuckle. Why thank you, i take much pride in having my real skin nice and clean. He said, letting her also know that he wasn't a victim of the scalpel. Nope, all of his parts (except for his liver which failed when he was two) were his own, and that made him cocky and prideful.
He liked this girl, as weird as she was. He remembered back when he acted much like her, except it was more towards his family since he hadn't ever met anyone else. When she poked his nose, he crinkled it and looked at her with a pout. My name is Cyle, and yours? His voice was smoother now that his jaws weren't locked and his throat wasn't like a desert. He examined her face. Cyle wouldn't mind looking at it a bit more.
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Post by annabelle lee grace on Jun 11, 2010 11:57:10 GMT -5
Anna pulled her hand back and shifted so that she was sitting indian style on the cold, damp ground. I am absolutely astonishing. She gave a smile and tucked her messy hair behind her ear. A breeze picked up and carried a sheet of torn paper around the alley, landing it perfectly in her lap. Hmm. She gingerly unfolded the piece of paper and read it slowly: Zydrate Addict Support Group; Nightly Meetings
I like that name, it's like a tree. It's different. As she stared into his eyes, admiring their brilliant color she tore the sheet of paper into hundreds of tiny squares. I'm Annabelle. She said as she held her hand up flat and blew the paper shreds off into the air. Her black lips curled as she watched them flutter and swirl away from them into other parts of the alley. Some settling on the ground and others littering the hair of sleeping people to look like snow.
Annie chewed on her lip as she looked back to him, her fingers pulling at the edge of her skirt-one of her nervous "tells." Her head jerked to the side and her hand quickly moved to her neck, scratching until there were light red streaks from her nails, small lines of blood staining her pail skin. Annabelle's face flushed a bright red. I'm sorry... I jerk sometimes. She looked up at him and quickly back down, she felt deep embarrassment for him seeing her twitch. They didn't happen often, though when they did it was often violent.
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Post by cyle xavier sinclair on Jun 11, 2010 12:13:19 GMT -5
it's clean,it's pure, it's rare; [/b][/size] [/center] it takes me there [/size][/center]
Cyle watched her intently as the tiny paper pieces fluttered their way into the alley. He smiled, that was like something he'd do with stupid flyers that meant nothing. With the comment about the tree, he was taken aback, but he soon got her name and that was the first thing to really set it. Annabelle, He thought. It was funny how her name was so elegant, when in this world no one in their right mind named their children normally, and if they did, it was always spelled differently. Just like Cyle's name. Usually it was spelled with a K, but his parents weren't ones to fall behind in fashion trends, even with baby names.
His eyes gazed as her, transfixed on her sudden moments. He smirked as she apologized. He mumbled something like 'don't worry,' but he was to busy grabbing his shirt sleeve and wiping the blood from her neck. Don't want to ruin your pretty top, or get it in your hair. He said softly. Once he was satisfied, he drew back, examined his now red shirt sleeve. He didn't mind though, not like many people paid attention to it.
Cyle took out his Z gun and looked at Annabelle with want in his eyes. He was ready for another hit, and he wanted to know if she'd take the trip with him. I'll give you a free hit if you hang out here, with me until it wears off. He smirked sinisterly at her. He wanted her to say yes, because she was now his latest interest.
He pressed the gun to his neck but didn't pull the trigger. He always took the hit first. It made his decisions easier to make, and he didn't think to hard about it when he was already swimming in his dream world.
Whadda ya say, dear? He asked again, looking into her eyes and then down at her black lips.
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Post by annabelle lee grace on Jun 11, 2010 13:16:26 GMT -5
She cringed and drew back at the pressure of his arm against her neck. Thank you. She said quietly, running her fingertips over the small indentions on her neck. Her blue eyes fixed on the gun he pulled out, memories seemed so far away. Everything, every part of her day was now filled with Z. Everything she did got her closer to getting more of it.
I would love to hang out here with you. Annabelle giggled and rocked forward. Once on her knees she crawled closer and sat next to him, her side pressed firmly against his. Where'd you get it? She asked as she kept her eyes on him while crossing her legs out in front of her. This movement pulled her skirt up, revealing thin, paper white thighs. Her mind went off on tangents as she studied his face. He was handsome in the least, it had been a long while since she had found anyone attractive in the least. Everyone in this world was so fake, so unreal. They all had replaced skin, extended long legs, breast implants, people were getting their asses injected into their lips.
But Annabelle, Annabelle stood at 5'2" tall, all of her original parts. That is except for her heart, though that was not her choice. She had chosen death, but Graverobber had other plans for her life. He set up arrangements for her to have a heart transplant. This heart transplant was set up in the bathroom of an abandoned subway station. The scar from her old surgery was a large x-shape over the entire left side of her chest. Annie was extremely ashamed from having to have this surgery, which in turn is why she always made sure to have her body covered. His voice drew her back into the moment, the sound of the gun clicking, the needle injecting the Zydrate into his neck.
Me next.. She whispered.
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Post by cyle xavier sinclair on Jun 11, 2010 14:50:21 GMT -5
it's clean,it's pure, it's rare; [/b][/size] [/center] it takes me there [/size][/center]
Cyle clicked the gun but his finger slipped. This had never happened before and a drop of blood entered the draw back, sending it into the glowing blue liquid. If he was sober, he'd care but with this much in his system, he figured it wouldn't do much harm. He smiled as she spoke, loving the fact that he would have a friend to stay with him for once. Taking the gun from his neck, he took her hand in his and twisted it back, revealing her white wrist. Ready? He said, though it didn't matter. A few seconds later he pressed the trigger and in it went, even the red drop that had entered went into her system. He tossed the empty gun near his bag and his eyes rolled around in his head.
He leaned down and took a deep breath, the sweet smell of her skin entering his nose and intoxicating him farther. You smell nice. He said groggily.
She didn't make a sound for a moment or two, which made him nervous. The one drop of blood could've messed up the pH balance, sending it into another type of numbness. Maybe even one where she couldn't speak or breathe. His head lifted up and he sighed. Turning his body to where he could look into her eyes and at her facial features. You okay my dear? He asked quickly and quietly. There was no way he was letting a girl like this die on his hands. He'd even take her to Amber if there was nothing else he could do.
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Post by annabelle lee grace on Jun 11, 2010 23:20:48 GMT -5
The moment the Z entered her veins her chest muscles tightened around her lungs, forcing them to cease movement. She could feel her eyes dialating, the light around her changing. The half broken street lamps became blue and white smears across the alley around her.
Yeah, yes-I'm alright. Her voice was light and dreamy, like she had just seen something that she wanted badly and was dazed by it. Annabelle moved slightly, letting her head fall to the side, resting against the wall. She peered up at him through her mess of ratty, filthy black hair. How are you? A pinch in her chest made her face scrunch up. Ahe! A high pitched hiccup made her entire body jolt upward a few inches. Annie giggled and put her fingertips to her mouth, Ooops, my bad.
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Post by cyle xavier sinclair on Jun 11, 2010 23:33:31 GMT -5
it's clean,it's pure, it's rare; [/b][/size] [/center] it takes me there [/size][/center]
Cyle's first instinct was to sleep, but he knew if he didn't keep this girl entertained, she'd leave him and that would be sad for him. When she answered him, he was relieved to know he hadn't kill such a girl, or a personality rather. She was something the world needed, Cyle could feel it. But, he was high and believed he could feel God's hands around his waist.
When she jerked, he looked at her strangely and cracked a goofy grin. His hand lifted up heavily and he took her cheek in his hand. Want to dance? He asked her. His voice was raspy and alluring. It could make Amber herself fall to her knees. Which he remembered doing quite a few times. A small smile appeared on his lips gently at the thought of remembering past lovers.
He turned his attention back to the beautiful girl beside him. Considering himself lucky, he said a quick prayer, thanking someone for this gift he had just received. You're beautiful. He whispered to her, his eyes dancing with lust and desire.
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Post by annabelle lee grace on Jun 11, 2010 23:45:49 GMT -5
I would love to dance with you! Her words flowed almost as evenly as a song would carry through the cathedral chapel.
Annabelle twisted her body and dug her fingers into the wall between the gaps in the bricks. The grit of the sand pulled at her fingertips as she slowly pulled herself up, her body felt like it weighed a million pounds. Once to her feet she dusted her hands off on her skirt, wobbling for a few moments. She swayed back and forth with music in the distance. When the wind blew it felt like thousands of microscopic icecicles hitting her body in shockwaves.
She reached out her hand to him, helping him up from the ground. The amount of effort it took for her to heave him off the ground got her off balance, causing her to stumble backwards and fall forwards into his chest. She looked up at him as she breathed him in, his smell was so different from the stench of the carnival. It was more of a musky, clean smell altogether.
When she looked up at him, his face took her by suprise. The effects of the Z had been much greater than she had ever felt. She rubbed her hands up and down softly on his upper arms as she stared at him. Every detail of his face was so defined, every shadow and reflection of light was visible-something her eyes could not normally tell. He was just as handsome as she had thought, only on a greater level. How are we going to go about this, this dancing Mister Cyle?
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Post by cyle xavier sinclair on Jun 12, 2010 17:19:00 GMT -5
it's clean,it's pure, it's rare; [/b][/size] [/center] it takes me there [/size][/center]
The sound of the carnival music filled their ears as Cyle led her out to the alley way, where the light caught him off guard, causing him to squint and hold his hand up over his eyes. The feeling in his body was light but heavy, good but sickening. He smiled, loving every minute that the irony flowed through his veins. The music that filled the air was a mix of techno and jazz. For some reason, everything in the music world was electronic now, even good soulful jazz. Cyle remembered when his parents went antiquing and bought him a record player from circa 1990. It was covered in dust and the vinyl was scratched on the bag of records it came with. But, Cyle listened to it anyway. He loved it. The dark sounds of a guitar and the real voice of a singer, who felt every word he or she sang. The way it moved him was the oddest ways. Not like music he heard on the TV, or even the old radio. Cyle let the thought slip by as he pulled on Annie's hand. He twirled her lightly, and drew her to him.
I'll show you. He whispered. His feet stepping accordingly. It was an older waltz or salsa. Though it didn't matter, what matter was it kept them tightly together, unless he let her spin in his hand around himself.
He smiled at her softly as she giggled and dance, his feet shifting to the beat of the bass and drum, sometimes even the keyboard. Cyle's hands drew her in again, dipping her low towards the dirty ground. Don't want to get that lovely head of hair you've got dirty. He said, lifting her up to meet his posture. He grabbed her hand and stepped back, dancing sort of like the old movie Dirty Dancing. Ahh, those were the days. 1 2 3, 1 2 3, 1 2 3, Cyle counted their steps, making them sync together perfectly.
He tilted his head to lay it on her shoulder, his forehead hitting the nape of her neck. Are you sure you're not a professional dancer? He asked jokingly.
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Post by annabelle lee grace on Jun 12, 2010 23:23:00 GMT -5
Annabelle felt her body loosen, though she hadn't willed it to. Her muscles unwound themselves and seemed to move with ease, their movements together were like flowing water. Fluid. Just like the tainted Z her body was now rapidly obsorbing. Within only a matter of days the effects of the tainted Z would set in, and she would find her organs failing slowly. Dying off one by one.
Her fingers laced through his as they danced, she followed-like every young woman who danced with a young man should do. Every move she made was influenced by his, every step taken followed the placement of his foot.
When he dipped her back her head tilted back letting her body fall into a tightened curve. The long curls that, when clean, hung straight, twirled and twisted together with the wind as she leaned into the grasp of his arms. The moment he had begun to tilt her down the muscles in her chest tightened, not one by one, but all of a sudden. The thick, tightened muscles pulled at the dark salamon-color scar on her chest. Annabelle's face cringed momentarily in pain, though she quickly regained composure. She let him pull her back up into him and she untangled her fingers from his, where they had felt so..so, at home. She pulled at her corset and held her breath for a few moments in hopes of the pain going away, which it did. Though she should not feel anything, her heart was brand new. Well, it had been six years without any proper maintenence, time was well overdue for a tune up.
As their dance continued on it dawned on her, she could feel pain. On Z there should not have been any pain whatsoever. Annabelle chewed on her bottom lip and pressed her chin into his collar bone, staring at the slow moving backdrop behind him. I need more Z Cyle, soon. Her voice was darker, serious this time as her jawbone ground into his shoulder though her fingers gingerly relaced into his.
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Post by cyle xavier sinclair on Jun 12, 2010 23:45:12 GMT -5
it's clean,it's pure, it's rare; [/b][/size] [/center] it takes me there [/size][/center]
Cyle noticed her sudden withdraw from her happy, dancing mood. He pulled away from her gingerly, still holding her hand like they were still in high school. It was funny, how weird to felt to say that. Cyle had never actually been to school. His mother home schooled him, keeping him from the outside world. Mommy would be proud,[/] He thought, almost sickened by the thought.
When she mentioned getting more Z, Cyle's finger lifted up her chin gingerly, looking her in her eyes. They weren't the same. She looked worried and semi-sick. You sure you're okay? I can take you to a clinic? He mumbled in a cooing voice, like he was talking to a child. The sound of his fingers on his other hand snapping covered the silence between them. Cyle felt like this was his fault, though he couldn't remember exactly why.
The only way i can get more Z is to go down to the graveyards, and that's a good two mile walk. Plus to get a whole vial...that's two bodies. He frowned, realizing he was loosing his new 'princess' faster than he hoped.
If it's drugs she wants, then it's drugs she gets. He thought to himself. Cyle couldn't stand to see her in a bad mood, and he figured if she cried, he'd go ahead and shot himself in the temple. This girl was one that deserved the best, and Cyle was willing to do what ever it took to get it to her. That was the connection he felt with her.
Still not thinking clearly, he pulled her into a gentle hug. There's a Z bank that the wealthy folks use. Maybe mine wasn't as good. Theirs however...is stronger. He pulled her back and looked into her eyes, rubbing his thumbs over her small, cool arms.
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