Rolling My Eyes

When Tommy woke-up he found himself staring up at the ceiling and then at the window, up too high. Not right. The sunlight coming in the room was leaving dusty rays on the window sill and in the air. What the fuck...? Tommy could not understand anything. He sat up fast, his bare feet hitting cold cement. He was suddenly alert; his eyes scanning. "Oh, fuck," he whispered. "Oh, fuck." White painted bars. Steel toliet. Bars. Bars. Bars. Fucking bars...Where the fuck are my shoes? "Oh, fuck," Tommy squeaked. He felt dizzy. He focused his eyes on his feet; stretched them across the steel. He noticed the bottom of his jeans were damp and itchy against his skin. "Don't puke, Tommy," he said outloud. Why the fuck am I here? Tommy called out, "Hello...?" But no one answered. On shaky feet, Tommy made his way to the bars. "Hello...Hello..." He looked down the hallway as far as he could, noticed he was in the last cell. No...

It's 3 a.m. Minnie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high. She felt bad that she had not saved Tommy any of the pot he had bought earlier that day. But he did not ask her where any of it was, instead he just pulled her down to the floor beside him and filled his mouth with hers. She ran her fingers over his bare, smooth chest and felt his heart race beneath her fingertips. She did not resist, when he turned her around, as he undid the zipper of his jeans and lifted the red t-shirt she was wearing, so he could enter her from behind. He leaned, reaching forward, grabbing her breasts and squeezing hard,as he used them to push and pull his dick in and out of her. She could feel his teardrops falling on her back. When he was done, she gave him her KISS sweater, so he could keep himself warm, then she rolled the roaches that were left; mixed with tobacco from one of his cigarettes. She let him smoke the joint to himself. After, he told her he liked fucking ...

Dear Tommy, I do not know what to do. It is two o'clock in the morning and I am sitting up here in the hospital and I should be studying for my history test, if I am awake anyway, but I am bored of reading. Mom's at work tonight and everyone else is too tired to come up here and I did not want Grandma to be alone. It would have been the first time. Everyone says she is going to die. No one comes right out and says it to me though. Which is stupid. I am fourteen years old, (almost 15!) not four. I went to visit your grandma for a little bit tonight too. I hope you do not mind. I just know it is really hard for your family to make sure there is someone there for her all of the time. It is so weird that both our grandma's are here doing the same thing, at the same time. Sometimes I feel really bad because I think of all the times I just hated my Grandma. This one time, Mom had found some writing that I had done. I was in grade five. I kept it tucked into the book I ...