nekare

Oooh, Tabby pimps me out way too much XD This was SO much fun! I should really try someday and write something larger for Fight Club. (And your choice of color? AWESOME.)

That Nasty Thing You Do
Fight Club – Narrator/Marla – The Narrator finding out Marla is an imagination as well – Puke-green – 297 Words

We sit on opposite sides of the room, a leak between us (tip-top-tip-tap goes the water as it falls on the frying pan).

Marla smokes on the bed, staring at me through the grayish smoke, legs open wide and her dress hiked up to her waist – pure wanton look that makes me melt and makes me wish Tyler had never been.

(Because it feels too easy to take advantage now.)

The light bulb had been broken, and the only thing I could find in the old house at Paper Street is this wretched puke-green bulb that lights Marla in a slightly sickening fashion, pure contrast and cutting angles.

“You’re not real,” I say, my hands in my pockets.

Marla laughs, coughs a bit with the smoke. “If you think you know already, why are you asking?” She leans closer to me, blows smoke into my face and my eyes water. I’m not entirely sure how, but I’m standing almost next to the bed now.

Wonderful, more plotholes in my already blank life is just what I need.

Marla throws herself backwards on the bed, stares at the ceiling with her limbs spread open. I poke her shin, and it’s surprisingly corporeal.

“I’m asking because I don’t want to realize I already know.”

She smiles, puts the cigarette out on the dirty sheets, and I almost wish it was my skin so I could feel something, anything, in the way I haven’t felt since Tyler went away.

“Well aren’t you the rhetorical one?”

I smirk, and decide that drowning in my insanity isn’t so much as a bad idea after all.

(Touching her is completely different than touching Tyler, and yet, it’s feels the same at the end. I’m not quite sure if I dislike it or not.)