INSOMNIAAAA (Yelled like how in the Feeder song of the same name yeahhh?)

Huh? Who knew the title could be that long.
Anyway if this continues I'm going to end up blowing up all the credit card companies and we don't want that, do we? Although that does mean I get to bed Helena Bonham Carter right? :) Every cloud has a gorgeous woman lining it etc. etc.

I love Republica - Ready to go. It's like my favourite song atm. That and God called in sick today - AFI. And I want a mohawk - AFI. And Your so last summer - Taking Back sunday. Rightt no, that's not what I'm here for. I'm so very sleepy. But I shall write a bedtime story, thus putting myself to sleep. Here goes :)

His eyes opened to darkness. A cool breeze enveloped him, causing his arm to sting unexpectedly. The pain showed on his face. They watched him move cautiously, every action slow, unsure. Occasionally he would groan in pain, when open wounds dragged across the cold concrete. It's difficult to recognise a fumbling confused body under the orange street light on such a dark night. His form seemed tiny to the two watching in a mute interest, the jeans clinging to the skin, but the hoodie hanging off his shoulders as if disguising a skeleton; The mass of black hair covering his face entirely, taking his humanity with it. His audience felt excited and scared by his presence. A loud cry of pain, and their mute wonder is broken.
"We should help him" says one.
"No" replies the other.
The cries become louder. Standing is beyond this broken child and defeated he falls back to the ground.
"We need to do something"
The two girls stare with awe. They admire his vulnerability: The evidence of their entrapment, all their hard work. The other, she approaches him, a smile forming on her empty face. A smile which lacks all the qualities a smile should have. Her eyes look white. Her delicate hand with long piercing nails sweeps the hair away from the boy's face. She strokes his face, her fingertips barely touching him. She finds his collar bone and traces it's shape. Her touch is so soft he can't help but shiver. She sits on his hip, still holding the same empty smile. He looks up disorientated. He can't quite focus on her, his eyes dart from side to side. She laughs. She is still stroking his clavicle. She begins to bite her bottom lip. The first, she watches with an anticipating gleam in her also white eyes. Her fingers leave the bone, they palpitate slowly as they travel down his chest. Her touch confuses him, he flinches, he wants to struggle but he just can't bring himself to move. She applies pressure, pushing in on his waist, her nails digging in to his back, her hands under his hoodie, under his top. The skin breaks, the back bleeds.
The boy startles upright, their faces inches apart. Her nails still digging deeper into his back, blood trickling onto the city floor. She leans forward and bites the bottom lip of the boy, lightly but he feels the pain, like an electric shock screaming through his body. He grabs her, clenching a handful of her white blonde hair, forcing her towards him like a child with a toy. He kisses her, he's afraid to let go. He knows this is all there is. She is all he has, he thinks he will die here today. She has him enchanted. And so they kiss and he pulls at her clothes in a sick desperation of a boy out of control.
She stands, leaving him to fall to the floor. The one who watches shouts "Is he dead?"
"No" is the reply once more. And the girls leave, never once looking back. Eventually the boy stirs, crouching memories of blonde hair and hate and magic.
X