Snippet #1822177

"Yeah, cross my heart and hope to die, it'll only end in tears--eye for an eye, for an eye; if beauty is only skin deep, then thankfully I'm blind, cross my heart and hope to die..."

A lone figure leaned against the wall of the old abandoned gym wing located some distance from the main areas of the school, singing (if it could be called that) along to the lyrics of Carcass's 'Cross My Heart'--a death'n'roll classic, and whilst it certainly wasn't her favourite from Carcass, you couldn't deny that. The old gymnasium wing was no longer in use, after a new one had been built far closer to the campus hub--most likely because of all the students who were late due to classes on account of having to walk the distance every day--but for whatever reason, maybe because of money, they'd never gotten around to actually tearing down the old building. So it now stood, like the proud, aloof ruins of an ancient civilisation, slowly rotting and decaying.

And on any given day during the first break and the lunch break, one could find Isabella et Violaine prowling around the yellowing concrete structure, like a phantom haunting its old place of residence, scaring off those who would disturb its resting place. The fact that few people came around here was rather congruent with the desires of the girl who refused to be called as anything but Izzie to be left utterly alone by everyone and everything, so she could come here, smoke, listen to music, drink, do whatever the hell she wanted, really, without being bothered. Not that most people really saw fit to bother her anyway. Didn't seem there was much desire amongst the student body to approach (and then subsequently by soundly rebuffed by) a hostile, bitter former runaway. Izzie figured that was for the better. Both for herself and for everyone else.

The seventeen year old 'delinquent', as many would say just from the look of her, felt the metal-studded back of the leather jacket she wore, resting against the crumbling concrete of the building; wrist bands adorned with spikes and studs peeked out from beneath the folds of the sleeves. A gentle breeze rolled through the school fields and up into the abandoned gym wing, ruffling through the shocks of stiff, wiry black hair adorning her head, carrying with it the grey wisps of smoke issuing from the cigarette that rested between her thin, cold lips, bobbing up and down as she murmured along with the song.

"Time ain't no great healer, quickly senses numb; come and cross my heart, void and null--love is a weakness, lust conquers all...cross my heart and hope to die..."

Distantly she heard the sound of the bell sounding, signalling the return to class. Which brought a smirk to Izzie's lips as she reached up and took the cigarette from her lips, exhaling a steady stream of thin smoke. She didn't feel like going to class right now. So she just wasn't going to. It was nice out here, she figured; the weather was cool without being too damn cold, there was a nice breeze about, she felt right at home here. Her backpack was laid out besides her on the ground; on top of it, a notebook, opened to a sheet of paper upon which one could find writing--her writing.

Izzie preferred to think of them as lyrics. Poetry just sounded so...so weak. So effeminate. So delicate. But until they were put to an actual song (and that'd be the friggin' day)...they kinda were poetry, much as she hated the word.

And she could only imagine the reaction if the idiots at the school found out that she wrote poetry. It'd show that there was more to her than just drugs, violence, and metal--and she didn't need anyone to know that. She was just fine with nobody ever knowing anything about her except that she was the kind of person that nobody wanted to know anything about.