Give In To The Darkness

It's insanely hot and Amelie should shut her perfect, pink-lipped mouth. It’s a good thing she’s pretty or she’d get nowhere in this world. She’s got long shiny brown hair with natural highlights, and big, sparkling green eyes. Her lips are pink and round, and her nose is small and cute as a button. It’s also pierced, with a tiny pink gem sitting pretty on her left nostril. Her ears are freaking perfect, and they always have these little sapphire studs in them. She’s got cheekbones for days and perfect teeth, and everything fits her right. Her body is actually nicely proportioned, and even her laugh is enough to get the boys to come running. They also love her voice, but after an hour, it’s more annoying than my sister Becky’s chicken clock. She looks stunning, but she’s dumb as dirt. 

I’ve been stuck in this elevator with my “best friend” for over an hour now. She’s babbling on about “oh my god Em, I'm scared of the dark” and “Emery please please give me your juice box” and “Emmie why don’t you care about meeee?”

 If anyone here doesn’t care, it's Amelie. She claims she’s my “best friend” but doesn’t know about my conditions? First off, the juice box. I have diabetes. I need the sugar sometimes. Also, I get very confused when my blood sugar drops. It’s so bad sometimes, I think I’m a different person altogether.

 My hyperthyroidism gives me heat intolerance and sensitivity to it, so since I’m sweating buckets, I know it’s almost twice the heat normally. I’m going to die here in a little bit. The power’s out, and so is the AC. We’re boiling. For a minute I feel bad for Amelie.

Then I remember Amelie is a rich, stuck-up pretty girl who lives in a penthouse with not one, not two, but three private islands. On every island her family doesn't own sits a vacation home with a living room the size of my house. She’s got a pet heron, an Arctic fox, and a lake full of rare and beautiful fish. She’s been to countless shows and concerts, and travels every year to Paris, Jamaica, and Brazil. She has everything. She could use a little suffering.

I, however, come from a working-class family and we live in downtown Albuquerque in a freaking shack. My hair is dirty blond and frizzy as hell, and my eyes are disgustingly brown with green flecks. They look like a stick bug threw up in them. My nose and ears are huge and unpierced. No sapphire studs or diamond hoops for me. Nope, I get Hello Kitty stick-ons if I’m lucky. I have more baby fat at 17 than the average baby has at 17 months, and big clunky braces complete with orange chains because “it was the only color they had”. Some things fit me, but it takes serious digging through the boxes at The Treasure Box. I sound like a donkey when I laugh, and if I cut my hair short and wear a shirt, I sound and look more like a boy than a girl. I may not look like a million bucks, but my smarts are enough to earn it. One thing’s for sure though- no boys come running unless I do something stupid, in which case they take a video and post it on their youtube channel, “EmeryDoesStupidThings”. They’re not the most creative people on Earth.

I carry a metal pole in my bag just in case and I’m seriously considering clocking Amelie on the head with it. She’s currently checking herself out in her ring light mirror. I wonder how nice it’d be to knock her out and then break that light into a million pieces. She’d slide to the floor in the most delicious way…

“Look, Ellie, I love you, but please turn that thing off.”

“But Emmie! I look stylin’ in this lighting-”

“What lighting, Ellie? It’s dark. I’m about to die if we don’t get out of this thing! And all you care about is your Instagram?!” I knock the light out of her hand. “If you don’t shut up, and actually care for once, you and I might live! Otherwise you’ll be out there, telling the story of how bravely you tried to help me, when all you’ll really do is snap a pic and drink my juice box like the swine you are!”

Amelie turns around. “What is wrong with you? I’m just tryin’ to get a good pic for my fans while we’re stuck in this god damn elevator. I don’t need your help! And now there’s nothing to do, since you’ve broken my ten thousand dollar phone!”

That was her phone? Upon closer inspection, it was a phone, her phone, with a light and mirror embedded into the back. Oops. Honestly, that girl deserved it.

“So who’s the swine here? Emmie, you’re crazy. What is happening with you right now? I miss you, the you from before you got that- that brain thing. I loved you.”

“Whoa there, Ellie. Did you just say ‘brain thing’?! What on earth- you’re supposed to be my best friend! I may not be perfect and rich and pretty like you, but does that mean I’m like an alien?! Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot your rhinestone-covered, pink-sparkling brain is the size of a pea and can’t comprehend other people’s problems. I’m sorry, Ellie. I’ll really miss you.”

“Emmie, wait.” She grabs my freaking juice box- I knew it- and takes a loooong drink. I raise the pole and bean her hard enough to get through her hard skull to the pea brain she has in there. 

Then everything becomes clear. Too late, I realize that I’m Amelie, and I was more confused than ever, and I just accidentally killed myself.

I slip to the metal floor and am aware of the light and coolness of the elevator powering back on, but it’s too late. 

Too late.

T

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   late

late

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Give in to the darkness...