Marilyn Bellucci
Nov 29th, 2002, 07:49:05 PM
Marilyn hugged the thick, fuzzy coat around her against the wind as she leaned against the rough brick wall of a street corner. Taking in a slow drag, she felt the burning tingle of the cigerette smoke creeping into her lungs, trying to sink into her already poisoned viens. Her eyes, once bright with the excitement of sex and blood, were dull, clouded. Evelyn had quit the Dolls, as short lived as they were. Eventually they all seperated. They were her people, in a way. Woman just as brave and strong and passionate as she had been.
Her pupils shrank away from the sudden, harsh light of a passing speeder and she let her head sink further down behind a fur collar and copper locks of hair. She inhaled the fumes of the cigerette again, holding in the poluted air for a moment before letting it coil out her nostrils. Marilyn was sinking fast without the company of the Dolls. She was broke, her spirit had lost it's spark of life, she was slowly falling into the desperate habbits she lived by in her early teens.
"Never..." She hissed out the word, her eyes shutting tight at the sudden threat of tears. She refused to become the pitiful shadow of a girl she'd once been. The girl that had rubbed against men more than twice her age and let unknown liquids snake into her veins through tiny metal tubes. The girl that undressed just to feed herself. The girl that carried children in her stomach that were destined to die before they so much as took a first breath.
Marilyn watched her hand shake, her pale complextion a shocking contrast against the deep black of the road; Ashes floated from the tip of the burning stick, precious smoke drifting toward the heavens. Her head felt heavy, although she wasn't sure if it was a side effect of sleepless nights or layers of make-up caked on to hide the rings under her eyes.
"Make up's all off...Who am I? Magic's in the make up.." She sang lowly, pushing away from the wall to start strolling down the road, toward's home. She paused, catching her reflection in the blackened window of a strip club, pink neon light making her skin gleam.
"...Who am I?" She whispered.
Her pupils shrank away from the sudden, harsh light of a passing speeder and she let her head sink further down behind a fur collar and copper locks of hair. She inhaled the fumes of the cigerette again, holding in the poluted air for a moment before letting it coil out her nostrils. Marilyn was sinking fast without the company of the Dolls. She was broke, her spirit had lost it's spark of life, she was slowly falling into the desperate habbits she lived by in her early teens.
"Never..." She hissed out the word, her eyes shutting tight at the sudden threat of tears. She refused to become the pitiful shadow of a girl she'd once been. The girl that had rubbed against men more than twice her age and let unknown liquids snake into her veins through tiny metal tubes. The girl that undressed just to feed herself. The girl that carried children in her stomach that were destined to die before they so much as took a first breath.
Marilyn watched her hand shake, her pale complextion a shocking contrast against the deep black of the road; Ashes floated from the tip of the burning stick, precious smoke drifting toward the heavens. Her head felt heavy, although she wasn't sure if it was a side effect of sleepless nights or layers of make-up caked on to hide the rings under her eyes.
"Make up's all off...Who am I? Magic's in the make up.." She sang lowly, pushing away from the wall to start strolling down the road, toward's home. She paused, catching her reflection in the blackened window of a strip club, pink neon light making her skin gleam.
"...Who am I?" She whispered.