Free Fly On The Wall: Fairy Tales From A Misanthropic Universe, Vol. I by Alfy Dade

her age. No, it had been very different indeed. The
other girls, wouldn't be alone now. They would be having fun; and
cake. Maybe they'd even sneak a beer or two; that would be so cool.
They would have music, they would dancing, they would have boys.
Unless that bitch Trisha spoiled it the way she spoiled everything;
Trisha was a spoiled cow.
    She hated
Trisha, the bitch. She wanted her to die; preferably by her own
hands. She wanted to slice Trisha open and spread her entrails upon
the floor. Perhaps make an intestinal balloon animal, or two and
then seek future guidance in their stains. Maybe then, with vile
vengeance in hand, maybe then she would be happy. She hated Trisha.
She hoped Trisha would choke on her brother's cum and die. Oh yeah,
she knew, and soon everyone else would too, they would know of her
incestuous lies, and their countless lustful, sinful ties. Nothing
they could do would stop her, not anymore. She knew how she would
do it too. Trisha would invite her over for her party. She had to.
her mom made her. She would sneak small memory cards into the
goodie-bags. At least one would surely see. Oh, and how it would
then spread! That would show her. She would make sure Trisha would
kill herself, that Trisha would suffer as she had. She crushed the
air between her teeth furiously. She'd mentioned the video; it was
all her fault. She felt ashamed and degraded. She hated herself.
Her lip twitched in utter self- disgust; her shame was visible from
far away. She hadn't expected her so-called 'friend' to send her
brother and his goons to rape her, on her birthday of all
days.
    Her birthday
hadn't been like many girls her age, instead, she was invaded, her
integrity was attacked, her security violated, all her being was
assaulted, by a group of brutish apes. She fantasized about how she
would ruin Trisha's birthday back, how she would exact her revenge,
about just how she would attack. They had done everything they
could to her when she'd lain there, all pinned and pained. Now she
just cried underneath the overpass, all alone. She needed to die.
No justice would exist, not for her. She cried. Soon. She stopped.
She had no more fluid to lose, no more tears to drop, not even
sadness remained; she was just numb. She fell asleep.
    When she
awoke she realized the fates had not yet ended her misery, and so
she stood. She walked up the embankment. Her tattered clothes
revealed a rich world of fantasy within the mind of one most poor.
Her bottoms were torn, destroyed by the boys to gain their odious
access. She didn't care. She didn't even feel the frozen wind which
billowed through. Trisha would pay. The girl in rags had no money
for memory cards, but she would find a way. The girl swore this
through a cloud of breath which momentarily appeared below her
lips. She stepped up to the metal parapet. She was weak, the
low-pressure gusts formed by the moving vehicles almost bowled her
over. She swayed, but remained standing. First, she put one leg
over the parapet, then the other. Despite the fear, she cared
little about what would become of her. She closed her eyes and took
a step. The poor girl's mangled body had to be cleaned from the
road, bit, by bit, by crushed and flattened bit, causing a great
tailback.
    At her party,
Trisha stared at the door impatiently. No matter how much she
screamed, no matter how much cried, no matter she blamed one thing
or another, nobody came. Her parents just handed her off to the
servants. Her servants cared little for her, certainly not enough
to check the traffic. Their lips were paid for service, and serve
was all they did, crookedly consoling her. She remembered the video
and was filled with dread. Her birthday hadn't been like most girls
her age. Her premature departure would be.

32 – Wailing
    She wailed
and wailed, but to little avail. She couldn’t take much more. She
wanted it all to end but knew full well it could not, regardless of
desires, it would all continue endlessly. The men