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    Why Superman Could Never Find a Phone Book – (Chapter: 27: Nope. She Doesn’t.)

    Story written on June 30, 2006 by peglegmeg.
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    Genre(s): N/A
    Rating: N/A
    fanfiction(s):
    Character(s): N/A
    Number of Comments: 14
    Words: 3568
    Story Shortlink: https://lesfan.com/?p=11924
    Author Notes:

    SoN AU

     

    "Well, she was drinking fairly heavy. And she had champagne and vodka, drinking vodka straight on the rocks. And then she’d pop pills. And I said, Marilyn, the combination will kill you. She says, it hasn’t killed me yet, and took another drink."

    Ash stood against the tiled wall, watching Dodger’s body language intently. He held each pill bottle up to his face, tilting his head down slightly, his glasses slipping down his nose as he read the tiny fine print.

    Ash sat on the edge of the tub, and ran her fingers though her hair. A finger caught on a tiny ball of tangles, her face grimacing as she worked the finger through it. A few long strands of hair remained twirled around her finger, having been torn from her scalp. Her eyes fell to the crack at the bottom of the closed bathroom door, wondering what position Spencer’s body was in at the moment. She hoped Spencer wasn’t cold.

    Dodger had opened a pill bottle and was sniffing the pills, dipping a finger inside and then removing it, touching the tip to his tongue.

    The cabinet door remained open, as Dodger’s leg now pressed up against Ashley’s, the room tainted with Spencer’s self destruction, a doorway to hell that seemingly always remained open; even when it was closed.

    Neither spoke, both attempting to mentally grasp control over this situation, each utterly aware that they were now in the path of the oncoming speeding train, accomplices not of their own volition, fingers frantically working on the taught knots that attached Spencer’s wrists and ankles to the wooden planks of the train track.

    Dodger’s knee thumped rapidly up and down on the tile, his fingernails currently being gnawed down to raw, bloody stumps, where he would then move on to his fingers and eventually ingest his whole hand.

    Her palm pressed down upon his manic leg, and he ceased immediately, deciding not to face her just yet; it just didn’t feel right. She needed space to think, although he knew he had physically violated this unspoken need, she desired the closeness, craved the warmth against her side, however, audible words were still off limits.

    There were 62 tiny white tiles in between the tip of his right shoe and the door. He recounted, worried he had missed one along the way, as his eyes had begun to lose focus, the thin square lines of morder blending together around tile 47.

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    Comments

    4. i can honestly say that there is not another writer like u on this site…its absolutely incredible how u write…jeez…im jelous..lol j/k!post more soon!

    5. I’ve just caught up with your story. I can’t say anything that hasn’t been said before. This is a remarkable story and you’re writing is superb. The content is really thick and heavy and imagery is so vivid. The metaphores and similies you use are just like no other. I do hope you continue writing!

    9. i can honestly say that there is not another writer like u on this site…its absolutely incredible how u write…jeez…im jelous..lol j/k!post more soon!

    10. I’ve just caught up with your story. I can’t say anything that hasn’t been said before. This is a remarkable story and you’re writing is superb. The content is really thick and heavy and imagery is so vivid. The metaphores and similies you use are just like no other. I do hope you continue writing!

    13. Ahhhh….I can’t wait anymore!! You have to post soon!!! I’m going crazy! It’s been like forever since your last post! Please please please post again!

    14. Ahhhh….I can’t wait anymore!! You have to post soon!!! I’m going crazy! It’s been like forever since your last post! Please please please post again!

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