Hasn't anyone ever told you not to Blink?
Blink and you're dead.
Blink and you're forgotten.
Don't Blink.
You've been warned. Good Luck
x x x x x x x
Meet Tunbridge College's walking mystery. A girl named Blink who eats candy to quell her smoking u...
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B L I N K | AGE: Ten
Stepping down from the last stair carefully to avoid tripping, like mama had always chastised me about, I turned to enter the kitchen.
The thin layer of fog floating near the ceiling was nothing unusual as she often smoked more than one cigarette when she was alone. I used to nearly gag at the smell and wish she would stop, but before long, I'd gotten used to it.
I'd gotten more than used to it actually. I often got curious and I think she could tell.
She'd offered me a smoke more than a few times and I always politely declined. Hoping not to make her angry like she usually got when she thought I was being ungrateful.
This moment was no different.
As I hoisted myself up onto a barstool across the counter space from her, her dark eyes wasted no time to drink in my form.
Although I was completely accustomed to their coldness by now as well, that still didn't mean she didn't make me a bit nervous from time to time. My hands fidgeted in my lap, occasionally smoothing out my skirt, as she continued to stare heavily at me. I didn't dare talk first, knowing she hated when I assumed I wanted to talk before she spoke to me.
She drew the cigarette rested between her two fingers up to her mouth, my eyes following the movement.
I nearly gasped when she smiled at me. She hadn't done that in so long. All I ever got within the last year or so was cold looks, calculated smirks, and mean remarks. It was hard to ignore, but if I just told myself that she was having a bad day and decided to take it out on me rather than her truly hating me, I felt slightly better.
"Well, aren't you just a curious thing."
I didn't respond, my eyes dropping from her hand to her lips. I almost couldn't believe she'd smiled moments ago.
"How many times will it take of me asking, for you to try it?" She moved to tap the end of the stick to her glass ashtray before bringing it up to her lips again. I watched as her cheeks sucked in before answering her question.
"It smells bad," my voice was quiet.
I didn't like giving too much away around her. Sometimes she took the things I hated the most and used them against me. My weaknesses quickly became her advantages for attacks when I was too vulnerable.
I'd learned that the hard way.
"So does vinegar, but you and your father eat the stuff over your fries all the time"
I wanted to protest, but I knew she was right. Vinegar smelt horrible, but after my dad encouraged me to try it, I absolutely loved it. The slight burn that accompanied it was even better.
"We learned in school that they're bad for you. They show us people who are bald and missing parts of their bodies because of it. I don't want to get sick. I don't want you to get sick," I tried.
