"#1 Crush" (Garbage)
I would die for you.
I would die for you.
I've been dying just to feel you by my side.
To know that you're mine.
I will cry for you.
I will cry for you.
I will wash away your pain with all my tears.
And drown your fear.
I will pray for you.
I will pray for you.
I will sell my soul for something pure and true.
Someone like you.
See your face every place that I walk in.
Hear your voice every time that I'm talking.
You will believe in me.
And I will never be ignored.
I will burn for you.
Feel pain for you.
I will twist the knife and bleed my aching heart.
And tear it apart.
I will lie for you.
Beg and steal for you.
I will crawl on hands and knees until you see.
You're just like me.
Violate all the love that I'm missing.
Throw away all the pain that
I'm living.
You will believe in me.
And I can never be ignored.
I would die for you.
I would kill for you.
I will steal for you.
I'd do time for you.
I will wait for you.
I'd make room for you.
I'd sink ships for you.
To be close to you.
To be part of you.
Cause I believe in you.
I believe in you.
I would die for you
The spider crawled across her hand. Eight legs traveling up her palm and onto the smooth skin of her wrist where it waited, on pause and seemingly looked up at her. Sighing, Lilah sat back in her chair and set the Tarantula back into its box where it would wait until the next time she needed it.
The next time she needed the information to break someone.
She stared at the computer. Everything was one-upped sometime. Everything could be improved upon.
Lilah pressed her palms together and looked at the clock.
5:34.
Except her. She hoped.
The scent of luke-warm coffee filled her nose. A starbuck cup sat on her desk, forgotten. Lilah wrapped her fingers around it - nails painted an understated red, and brought the cup to her mouth.
It was hard swallowing, but most things were.
Traffic was a slow creature that evening. Filled with cherry covered lips yelling out the window to just fucking MOVE.
Lilah checked her make-up in the mirror and slid impatiently in her seat.
The music blared from the radio.
The fading sun beat down the hood of cars, steam curled from metal and reached up toward the sky like ghostly fingers.
Lilah flinched when someone blared the horn behind her and then pressed a hand to her chest and calmed her racing heart.
She'd be home soon.
Rolling down her window, regardless of the air conditioner she reached her arm out into the roasting air and stuck her middle finger up in the air. She laughed into her mirror when the guy in the car behind her screamed some obscenity.
She loved the hell out of L.A.
Hold it together, she told herself.
The clock above her radio taunted her.
You're stronger than this addiction, she told herself.
Lilah was good at lies.
But her stomach hurt from it. A small pain weaving around her bladder and up through her ribs.
"Fuck!" She slammed her palms against the steering wheel. Her hair whipped and slapped her in the face. It stung… but most things did.
Sweat dripped down her neck and into the collar of her jacket as she stepped out of her car and slammed the door shut. It rang sharply like breaking glass onto the marble plate of her migraine.
Lilah rubbed circles around her temple with her long slender fingers before turning and spinning the gas cap off of her car. Gripping the nozzle, she waited for the okay to pump gas.
And waited.
It was a full minute before she heard the beep. Growling, she squeezed the nozzle and kept an eye on the gallons she pumped and the price.
Heat baked her shoulders and threaded around her scalp, making her feel faint. What she wouldn't give, to slide her jacket off. That would have to wait until she got home.
Lilah felt eyes on her all of a sudden and the hairs on the back of her neck rose.
Turning her gaze to the side, she found a little girl sitting in the car, hanging out the window and staring at her. Lilah smiled a little, the little girl smiled back.
Lilah moved a little closer, leaving the nozzle in the tank.
"Boo!" She growled at the child. The little girl jumped back and away from the window, eyes wide. Lilah's smile grew and she went back to pumping the gas, a fraction of the stress that bunched up the muscles of her shoulders drained away.
"You've got gorgeous hair." Her mother had said.
"Yes, mother."
"You know how to use it right, to your advantage?"
Lilah, beautiful at thirteen, stared into the mirror.
"Yes, mother."
"You're gonna make your momma proud, aren't ya?"
Lilah nodded and closed her eyes as her mother continued to braid her hair.
She shook the memory off and paid for the gas while the little slug of a cashier stared at her tits. He wore a blue shirt with his name written across the tag on his right bony shoulder.
Lilah gave him a look from beneath her lashes and leaned forward against the counter. The old lady behind her sighed and shifted her feet. Her tongue made snapping sounds as she watched the scene play out before her.
"Like what you see?" She asked the teenage boy. He nodded, his greasy hair bouncing against his forehead.
Lilah drew a finger down the line of her open jacket.
"Too bad I don't go for little boys with pimples." She said cruelly and he stilled, eyes jerking up to hers.
One more day, one more shattered ego.
The old lady clucked her tongue.
"Another scorcher today." The news caster said. "But tomorrow expect some rain. The temptatures will be in the high eighties, but the precipitation should cool us all down some."
Lilah stretched in her seat and yawned.
"Rain, rain, go away. Come again some other day."
Lilah sang as she sat on her front porch, staring at the gray sky.
Today was the day when Julie was going to come over and play, because her mother had finally given in.
"Nothing but white trash," her mother had clucked. "I don't know why you want to be around her. Do you even KNOW her breeding?"
Lilah stared now, out on the road. Waiting for Julie.
A rain drop landed on her sandal encased foot. She stared at it, tears in her eyes.
"You get inside this instant!" Her mother's voice rang from the open door way. "Your little dirt-dauber friend can come over another day."
Lilah stood and gave one glance toward the road before turning her shoulder at it.
Who cared about friends anyway? Mother had always gotten by without them and so would she. Julie only liked her for her money anyway. Or so mother said.
The key slid into the lock with its usual precision and Lilah pushed her apartment door open. It swung shut behind her and she turned, locked every lock.
A woman had to protect her investments right? And her biggest investment was herself.
The lock snicked and for a moment she had the brutal image in her eyes of a man's head just… falling off.
Something stirred in her gut, like she'd drank too much coffee. Sick. Proud. She felt a lot of things, but mostly just felt herself shaking it off. One more day, one more slaughter.
She didn't get undressed. There were too many urges inside of her, suppressed. And she need a fix to keep the demons away. The walls of her apartment were an eggshell color that was meant to soothe. Sublimate.
The silks of her skirt suit brushed against her thighs as she made her way across her apartment, heels sinking into the soft carpet as she walked.
On the answering machine, 5 messages blinked. Waiting. And it'd stay that way. For now. She didn't bother with taking her shoes off; they stayed strapped around her ankles. They were little brown suede things that went nicely with her tan suit.
Lilah sat down at her desk and took a key out from under her shirt. It unlocked the bottom drawer. Her breath started backing up in her lungs as she opened it slowly and stared down into the nearly empty space.
Gently, she lifted a stack of photos and placed them one by one, out along the desk, glossy side up. She left the drawer opened wide, gaping like an aching wound.
And then she sat there, for hours it seemed. Staring. Until her eyes hurt from being open so long without blinking. Her thighs rubbed together beneath the skirt. Craving sat on the tip of her tongue. The craving for something more than this life. For the purity she saw in that face.
Being bad felt good, gave her a thrill. She was evil and made no bones about it. It was who she was and that wasn't changing. But all things bad wanted a taste of all things good. And she'd found herself dreaming, sweating, and hoping for just a glimpse…
Everyone thought they knew her game.
Everyone thought they had her figured out.
They didn't have a fucking clue.
Wesley, poor, self-deceived Wesley…
Lilah pushed angrily away from the desk and grabbed her golden cigarette case, opening it and drawing out a long cigarette, liking the way it felt between her fingers. She didn't smoke often; it was a weakness as far she was concerned. And if indulged in, it left you vulnerable. Someone might use that vice against you one day or see it as softness of will. One thing Lilah couldn't stand was being measured and found wanting.
With shaking fingers, Lilah snapped the case shut and drew the cigarette to her mouth, lighting it with the golden lighter. She paced, digging her heels into the floor. Lilah wrapped her lips around the yellow tip, inhaled. The end of the cigarette glowed orange. Smoke drifted sinuously around her.
Slowly, her nerves calmed. Her aching heart stopped its thrumming beneath her ribs, leaving only a vague, empty sensation.
It was okay. Things would be okay. Everything was figured out, the plan was in motion. And now all she had to do was wait…
It was the waiting that haunted her.
She'd just follow the plan as usual. Work her way to the top whatever way she had to. No matter who she killed or who she stepped on to get there. A sly smile curved her razor like lips. Civilized destruction.
The cold steel of a pistol was not a stranger to her palm. It was heavy, thick and like having sex while listening to someone telling you how much they hated you.
Lilah turned and caught her reflection in the glass weapon case.
Smiled coldly.
Her plans had changed minutely. The ultimate goal loomed ahead, but it was a different type of victory she craved.
She knew what she wanted to gain from it all now. It seemed so simple yet so far away.
"What would you do, for her?" The dream whispered into her ear.
"I'd kill."
"Who would you kill?"
"Anyone that touched her."
"Even you?"
"Even I."
Lilah woke, trembling beneath her clothes. Jerked them off. Sweat pooled in the hallow over her hips, where it curved softly. Hungry.
She lay naked in bed, staring up at the ceiling.
The window as open wide so that the small, warm wind could slide over her skin and tickle between her thighs.
God it ached and no penis could satisfy her. Not when she knew what the real thing would be like. She could practically taste it on Wesley's tongue every time he kissed her. Getting that muchcloser to what she wanted.
Wesley was just another fucking pawn to be moved across the chess board and sacrificed.
She wanted their queen.
The pain of waiting drew her perfect mouth taught.
In the living room, on Lilah's desk, the pictures lay there, not forgotten but ignored.
One fluttered from a gust of wind, floating off of the wooden surface. The woman in the bedroom curled into a ball and tucked the sheets up over her shoulders, waiting for the rain.
The photo landed softly on the carpet.
Winifred Burkle's laughing face stared mischievously up at the ceiling.