note. misfits © howard overman.
— the murder of aphrodite
by breakable bird
She says, I'm cute.
She's twelve and she knows. A cute ass and cute future-tits and cute hair (more than Chloe's anyway) and cute dark eyes and cute knowing smile, and as she walks she can feel the stares drilling the nape of her neck. It's hard to be me, she thinks, it's hard it's hard it's hard and sometimes her friends don't call her because she's too cool for them and whatever, so Alisha goes and talks to the guys (nothing fantastic or anything, but well, for now...) and just because they can't they keep silent, and Alisha smiles smiles smiles and she's cute, she's so, so cute.
She says, I'm pretty.
She's fifteen. She doesn't really use skirts anymore because what the hell, really, but she still wears a dress sometimes, and there's just something in the wicked smirk of her face (she doesn't talks to the guys, she fucks them, she screws them and Chloe smiles smiles smiles and what do you think about Jack anyway? I mean you're not like... and Alisha laughs because she has kissed his dick and says with Jack? I mean, c'mon, Chloe, don't be a loser, you can do better but as a matter-of-fact just Alisha can do better.) Alisha can do anything and she opens her legs, her pretty, long, honey-legs with red nails and her lipstick is too obvious and she snickers hah and then Chloe is silent and Alisha is like what? and her friend says no it's nothing and they just smoke a cigarette because the cafeteria food is pure crap.
She says, I'm beautiful.
She's eighteen and she's fucking her neighbor in the kitchen when he says that she's the most beautiful girl ever, but when she was ten and hoped that some cretin could say that, she had a white dress and funny shoes and here, now, she has no bra and no shoes and nothing, just a fucked up nothing and then she laughs because she's gracious, and so she leaves and she walks and walks and walks and she finds a friend with whom she doesn't really talk because she's just popular enough to be in her group, not enough to talk to her, but she seems nice and Alisha says I'm cute, aren't I? and the girl looks at her, the suddenly soft-spoken with non-painted nails Alisha and smiles and says not really and that's okay.
She says, I'm Alisha.
She's ageless, like the cigarettes that she and Chloe still smoke and Jack doesn't drop his pants in front of her anymore and they whisper about Ellie because what a slut, am I right? and then the sky is really weird and Alisha feels the lightning and Curtis is looking looking looking but then not and Simon's always been there, and she's always been pretty but he already knows, and doesn't smile and probably has sweaty-hands and blinks too much but that's great, that's fucking awesome and then it's her and her music and her bra, her lovely dress fluttering in the night and his hands - they're kind, new, touching her as if she was made just for him. It feels like she can take a breath after being under the water for far too long.
(I didn't ask for this, she says. And she didn't and she's almost too much and then no, because c'mon, she's Alisha, and she can eat the freaking world.) So she does.