Fuel.

Rain tap-dancing on the roof.A liquid soft shoe. She has slept around the clock again.Slow with it.Poisoned.Ill.

She knows that they want her weak. She may be beaten but mama didn’t raise no fool. Broken. Even the ones that claim to love her want her down because it is there that she is easier to explain.To themselves and the world at large A wild horse broken.The fucking cowards.

She is almost disbelieving that the spark she can see deep under the agony and shit that constitutes her innards is real. That it could set anything off at all.That it could be of any use….but time will tell.

Her pilot light.

She thought that it was out.

This feeling of wronged indignation and fury does not last long so she knows that she needs to use it while she can.Distill it. Its fast and to be feared. Her nitroglycerin. If she can set the wheels in motion tonight no one is safe.And she will.Finally,after the dark comes fuel.

Them.They are almost away from her now ,they cluck their tongues and move onto the next subject. Laugh at her running and pushing weights.At the hours she spends with her sword. They are used to it.The don’t see how fast and true she is. She’s so tired.Every day is a battle. But she has a reason….

She needs to be ready to kill.

And the 1st target is herself.

She has drifted for weeks.Lost her tender fingered grip. Forgot the evil that was said,what it cost her. She relaxed into the illusion that she had meant something. But tonight she remembered.In Technicolor,in Mono and Stereo. If you were to ask her she would not be able to place her finger on the metaphysical trigger that pulled her back to the start. But it had,just in time and the gleeful relief was tangible.The big zero. Flesh has crept onto the bones. She has been sleeping as if drugged,falling back into old patterns. What they underestimate is her vigilance,the routine that she favors. The fact that she is and will die a grunt.

That she has written her own ticket and has all the time that you don’t.

What ever tripped her wire has left her weak kneed with gratitude. Time is of the essence tonight. All ducks must be got in a row. They want to drug her “To even out the losses of serotonin” they smile wet mouthed at her stormy countenance. She see’s it as the beginning of the end. Her gut,the very one that she told to “Hush!” a million times over in LA is awake and on a 5 point look out.There is something more that she has to do,another level that she has to obtain. She slipped.

( …..back through the mist she falls only to land with a spine jarring thump. Manic eyes over her,her hungry and trapped. Blamed for everything his paranoia could drag up….she remembers it all tonight.Tonight,no matter how fleeting ,heralds the death of romance.)

The house is empty ,she slides through the darkness,knife in hand, sharpening the edge of her senses dulled by misery over the last few weeks. A day off spun into three days, spun into weeks. She is not beating herself up. Merely logging it in the fat file of enemies that she keeps updated and fed at all costs.

Memory is the enemy. Weakness is the enemy.You are the enemy.

Movement is her only gift.The last one she possesses.

The one’s that tried to help her? She let’s them go. (“I knew that you were fucked up but I didn’t know how badly” said her friend “I can’t help you”) She flashes back to her beloved 3rd grade teacher who told her to help herself,said it with an angelic smile.

Oh.She was gonna help herself alright.

And then there are the liars and the fakes.Thrumming with passive aggression. Aiming their self loathing at her death defying honesty. Her stripped words and ferocious output. Claiming a higher purpose and delivering nothing.Pandering to the masses. Editing themselves. Afraid. She disturbs them.Makes them aware of all that they are not,all that they will never have the courage to be. They picked her bones clean and paraded in her flesh and fables. They rewrite her history and battles and claim them for their own. But the reality of her?  Never. They bend with Chinese whispers. They bow in her alpha presence and bitch in her wake.

It will always present its self this way. She knows.She has always known. Fucking vampires. Sucking the life out of her. She goes into battle alone only to return to hear her tale co-oped by wannabes and dogs.

She’s lean tonight. She will watch the night suicide into the dawn. She will rise and rise.

She cleans her cell and then her corpse. She writes a list that encompasses all targets that must be annihilated over the coming weeks. The visions that crippled her have been turned to fuel.Hate is her co-pilot tonight. She and hate left compassion,hope and love on the soft shoulder hours ago,miles back.

She is mean with it.Fecund, full and abundant. Taken to her psyche with a steel wool pad. All memories have been quarantined until further notice.

If your not afraid you should be.Fear is a great motivator.

Hell hath no fury…….

You  know the rest.