Minimalist Gossip Magazine Cover (49).pdf (13) - Flipbook - Page 40
I want to call him and tell him what happened. What I meant to say: I want to feel supported
by him.
I do not feel supported by him.
I’ll just call him and see what happens. He might ask me over. Worst ways to spend an
evening. I am not working tonight. Shave my spirit down. Build me up with bonuses I can
spend on a holiday I am too busy to take. Phone’s engaged. I’ll try again in a bit. I have
killed a girl tonight. I spoke to someone who looked like they needed help. They didn’t need
it. I helped somebody tonight. I fed her. I offered her a place to stay. I am such a good
person! I’ll find a balance one day.
Feels terrible. All I can think about. All I can think about is how she will be dead come sunup. All I am thinking. I should’ve pressured her. She probably has an aversion to authority,
keep that in mind. A girl that young, murdered because I was too forceful with my
generosity. I forced my privilege onto her. I bet she wasn’t even getting a bus. She looked
tired. Fuck. Probably newly homeless. Didn’t want a roof for one night. No, no, no. She
looked healthy. Nice girl, nice family. Out to the big city for a concert. Big concert in town
tonight. But then why the suitcase? Should’ve checked which brand. Airport sticker around
the handle I think. Where did it say? Three letters. Go back to her. Buy some food, a
blanket. Some shops are still open. 24-hour Tesco, twenty minutes from here. I really want
to be home. I really want to see him. She doesn’t have a home to go home to. What would
he do in this situation? I can’t imagine he would care. She is dirty to him, not even sexual.
He would first glance up and then down, assess her assets, judge her suitability, whether or
not she fits the bill. It’s not often a girl doesn’t appeal to him.
I see him on the apps, scroll, gaze, double tap, scroll, gaze, double tap, message, hi. And he
has high follower numbers, so of course the girls reply. It’s all in front of me, he thinks I’m
asleep. I am imagined as outside of the picture. He’s not important. He’s the reason she’s
on the streets, the reason she doesn’t trust strangers. Men like him. There are many
different ways to skin a cat and only one way to kill a creep. What good does it do thinking
about this? Over and over and over. The more I lead him on, the more he becomes
attached, the more his certification of ownership comes closer into focus. Initials here, here
and here. Please sign on the dotted line. Oh go on just leave him. Don’t see him again. He
hates you, despises you. I just show up. Here I am, ready for service. No matter the cost of
entrance. I could just ignore him, I am afraid he is capable of violence. There is no way to
explain how I feel to him. It would be immediately written off as feminist propaganda. He
hides his fascist side from his followers, his abusive side. Reconfigures his public
mainframe to become approachable.
And those fucking stupid gluten-free pancakes tasted like shit. Unbelievable. I might love
him. I need to leave. I can’t believe I left her alone in the cold. Dead by morning. She’ll be
dead by morning. Because of him. Because of me. All my fault. Nearly home. Jesus. Fuck.
Christ. I want to be in bed. My dad whistling. I wish he was with me, asking do I want a cup
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