A Short Story : The Story Of A Story

I scowl and then relax. He wants me angry. He wants me to be unable to think clearly. It’s easier for him that way. I force my body to relax. “Are you going to keep moving that stupid mouth of yours or are you going to kill me?” I grumble, licking the blood off my lips. “I did kill your brother after

“I’d never do that,” Shay said with a giggle then added, “Now give me some sugar.”

“It smells so good! I really want to eat some, can I have a taste, please?” My sister asked with big eyes.

"Ya fallin' for tha chick that poisoned ya, nice." He muttered, closing his eyes as a goofy grin crossed his face. A low groan like growl escaped his lips.

I quietly rip his hands off me and flash him an annoyed look. “What do you think, idiot?” I whisper back through tight teeth.

“Come on Brian, can you at least try and finish the cupcake. It’s just one tiny little cupcake and it’s the only thing you’ve eaten all day. The least you could

"I caught them.....in our apartment. I didn't want to think about the messages on her phone. I trusted her. I am so fucking stupid." He says this with his pointer and index fingers pressed to his temple. I murmur a sound that is meant to be sympathetic and I nod, but he isn't looking at me. His eyes are closed.

I stared down at the pan full of mac and cheese confused. They were sticking together weirdly and the cheese was in odd clumps on the macaroni

I wipe it off quickly and feel my stomach burn a little with guilt. I should have saved a little of the bread for him. He used to bring me bread all the time when I was training at the

“Excuse me? That’s none of your damn business.” I say, and place my hand on my hip. I’m so mad at him that I’m now blowing the hair out of my face instead of just tucking it back.

The smell of warm gooey cookies rising in the oven. Temptation literally sitting in front of you as you press your face against the oven glass so your nose squishes and you see your breath on the glass. The anticipation of sweet smelling cookies that melt when they come in contact with your drooling tongue. Your mom tells you that she needs help making the house look people ready for all of the chattery women who will soon enter through the front doors with peanut butter blossoms with melting chocolate kisses, the candy of red and green that break your teeth, or the classic chocolate chip cookie spotted with the Nestle chocolate chips that crumble in your hand. However, you delightfully ignore your mom despite her desperation because all you

"Well you are a charming bastard." I sit down next to him. "Which is why I hate you!" He brings his hand to his chest pretending to be offended.

“Someone needs to be spanked,” he then giggles a weird jokers laugh in my lobe.

As we were poured into glasses that were not all the way clean, I saw one of my good friends Crummy. He came out with the rest of the batch. I noticed he was not baked all the way. I kept yelling --“Stop!”

I stare at him shocked, secretly wishing that I was drinking water at that moment so that I had a valid reason to do a spit take.