Snippet #860311

Coriander groaned loudly, moving her hand on top of a book, laying next to her head, on the table she was currently resting her head on. She opened it and flicked through a few of the pages, unable to see what was on them, but that mattered little as she had already decided she wouldn't read it. She was bored to tears, yet she couldn't decide on what she would do. She could sleep, but then her mother would yell at her for being a useless lazy ass. She could do homework, but that hadn't caught her interest in the slightest. She could watch some tv, play a game, or draw little stickmen on fire. Endless possibilities.

She sighed as she pushed herself up from the table. She looked over at the window, and as she remembered, the blinds were shut, letting little light inside. She didn't have much sense of what time it was, she wasn't even sure if it was night or day, she had just let time pass, not moving outside the room. She didn't feel tired, so the idea of taking a nap was quickly eliminated. She wasn't in the mood for mindless entertainment, so no tv either. Finally she glanced at the papers in front of her, and smiled at the many doodles and lines, making up a myriad of little stickmen being killed in various ways. Yes, life sure was grand on a day, or night, as this one.

She chuckled to herself as she got up on her feet, quickly realising that her one leg was asleep. She hated the needles and pins feeling she got when that happened, and although she tried, it wasn't easy to ignore, so she ended up just standing there until it was over. Then suddenly, something hammered against her door, and she turned her head, expecting something to smash through it. Instead, she heard her mother's voice from outside, and at once, her last little bit of a good mood had vanished.

"Cor, you get your ass out! I've got a client coming by in ten minutes, and I don't want you around!" Her voice was raspy and shrilly at once, ,the kind of voice you could only hear when talking with a person who had been chain smoking for the last thirty years of his or hers life. For some reason, that particular voice was the one thing Coriander hated above all else. "Right." She just yelled back, moving to the other side of her relatively small room, to grab a dark green backpack, she knew her keys and wallet were in.

She hurried over to the door, and opened it, knowing that her mother was right outside, like she always were when she kicked her daughter out of her own room. Coriander held her head low, not wanting to look at her mother, and not wanting her mother to look at her. She walked by her as fast as the limited space in the room would allow her, and then over to the door, where she stepped into her worn out sneakers, and then almost ran outside. She hated the stench of her home, and stepping out into the fresh air of the outside, was in an odd way strangely liberating. She looked around, seeing no one in the streets, and without knowing why, she smiled, and then moved down the few steps, and onto the sidewalk. Humming a tune she couldn't remember, she just allowed her feet to lead her where ever she would end up.