Freak の小説・ストーリー

a familiar voice mumbled. My eyes narrowed at the same time as my forehead frowned. "Yep baby. I'm your future hubby. I just called to say take care. Muaaah!" he said again on the other line before it was ended. Ghaaaddaaamiiit! How the fvck did that retard get my number ?! And what the fvck was muah? Was that a kiss ?! "He's really fvckin insane" I whispered while shaking my head in disbelief.

My name's Elizabeth Morgan, I'm 17 and a senior at Hillside High. If you didn't catch on, I live in this town called Hillside. We have lots of hills, and it's the most boring place I've ever lived. I don't recommend it to anyone. Anyways, back to the important stuff and the real reason why you're reading this. At my school, there's this one boy who is commonly known as the fuckboy. He's slept with every girl in our grade besides four of us. Those lucky four being myself, my best friend Ellie, and two other girls you'll probably hear about later.

“Why are you dressed like this!” She makes a sharp stop in front of me and pants violently. After catching up a breath, she grabs my hand and blurts out, “Nat! Eason is a freak! He is fucking insane you need to stay away from him NOW!” …What? My mind goes blank. All of a sudden, I find it hard to understand what Jenna is saying. “What—what do you mean he is a freak?” I ask then suddenly realize my body is shaking. “But he can’t be…why is he a freak? What did you say that!”

"But I'm having fun, aren't you little freak?" With a speed that Ariel obviously hadn't been expecting, Freya grabbed her mop of hair and yanked down her head to connect with Freya's sharply rising knee. There was a crunch – her nose, probably. Then she flung a squealing yet dazed Ariel aside and watched as she landed awkwardly on her ass. "I am now."

I hear Jeff’s alarm go off, but it only partially wakes me up. I’m so tired from being out late last night. And from the argument. When we got home, Jeff was so drunk…. He screamed at me for a long time, leaving me in tears. He passed out, and I cried myself to sleep. Despite his anger at me the night before, and the fact that he is clearly hung over, he curses at his phone, turns off the alarm, and promptly pulls his dick out of his briefs.

I asked her while grinning at the thought of my dream girl. “Yeah, the freak?” She answered as if she knew the girl. “Exactly,” I confirmed with a big, proud smile. “So, what's with the freak?” She cluelessly asked and then halted as she realized something. “Oh My Gosh, Prycie! You don't mean she's the one?” She asked in disbelief, and I’m just beaming. “Kyaaaaaah! I told you! I told you! I told you! I'm freaking right the whole f*cking time! Kyaaaah!” She's screaming and shaking her phone, or she is jumping on her chair. What a wild reaction!

Was this another one of his games, a new kind of torment? A jolt of paranoia shot through me, and I quickly sat up, a wave of cold air hitting my bare skin. Was I smelling down there? I stretched a trembling hand between my legs, my fingers brushing against the slick, milky discharge. I brought my hand up to my nose, breathing in a hesitant breath. But there was nothing—no sour, fishy scent, no foul odour at all. Just the faint, clean, almost unnoticeable scent of my own body. The lack of any bad smell only deepened my confusion, and I sat there, paralyzed by the mystery, the silence of the room pressing in on me.

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Suddenly, just like that, a fry flew and hit me on the forehead snapping me out of the silent anxiety attack. “Stop staring off like that, it creeps me out, you freak!” He teased with a playful tone and surprisingly, I didn’t even feel offended by the name calling. After all, I did introduce myself as a freak when we first met. “Jerk,” I decided to play the ‘who gets the last insult’ game. “Bitch.” “Man-whore.” “Hoe.” “Dickhead.” “Ass-hat.” “Fucktard.” “Imbecile.”

I said in a smart tone while biting on my fry. No offense to all raisins lover out there, but I just really hate the little, black, cockroach-like, dry fruit. It tastes sweet but not the 'good' kind of sweet, it looks like my arch-enemy. Other than Langston, I mean. It looks like a cockroach so technically, every time I see that dry fruit, my appetite is gone. It's just a 'No. No' for my taste bud. "Umm.." Freddie, my biology partner for this semester, muttered awkwardly. I call him Freddie but his real name is Friedrick. I call him Carly's best friend's name because the word FRIED makes me hungry and crave for fried chicken.