Bitches Be Jealous

I saw them. I saw them together.


There is he was, perfect in every way. I’d had my eye on him for over a year; I just hadn’t made my move yet. His hair, his fashion sense, his smile, his humor, everything about him suited me just fine. I dreamed of this boy every night, and the mere thought of him made me shiver. He was my everything.    


And there she was, all over him. Flipping her hair and smiling. Flawless skin and nails just begging for close-ups. She had the perfect proportions to drive anyone crazy. Popular beyond reason, she was looked upon by many as a shining example of what a woman should be. Slut. Slut slut slut!


I stood across the hall watching that girl, that girl!, flirt with my crush. How dare she? Didn’t she know that he was already, sort of, practically mine? Even though we weren’t officially dating or anything, he was still mine! Why couldn’t she see that? I watched as she laughed, leaning in close. She placed a hand on his shoulder and slowly traced his upper arm. I boiled over. Just because I’d never touched him like that, she thought it was ok? Everyone knew that I liked him!


That’s it. Shits going down. We both couldn’t chase after the same prey. Someone was going to have to die.  


“Jen?” Ashley walked up next to me, completely ignored in the heat of the moment. She followed my gaze and gasped. “Hey, isn’t that… and isn’t that…?”


“Shut up.” I said. Grabbing her face, I shoved her out of the way and walked towards the seemingly happy couple.


She saw me first and smirked. I bet she thought she was pretty clever. He hardly knew I existed after all; what would he know he’d missed out on if he dated her? A yard, a foot, an inch. Pulling back, I formed a fist and threw it, breaking that bitch’s perfect little nose effortlessly. She fell back against the lockers and slid down, holding her gushing mess of a face.


Shock crossed his face before I leaned in and kissed it, pouring in all the passion I felt for him into that one action. I enjoyed it for a moment or two. Pulling back, smiling, I licked my lips. “Call me,” I perked up and walked away, satisfied with the girl’s cries and the boy’s gasps.


My mother always told me to go after what I wanted wholeheartedly. I’m sure this is what she meant.   

Cell Fight

As a man openly pissed in a corner Mark sighed sadly. He did not belong here. Loneliness engulfed those thoughts along with his mind. He would not cry though. He would never cry.

Mark could do nothing of the past. It was of no use to him now. Now he must focus on the present. What was Mark going to do? He sat on the dirty wooden bench in the holding cell. One knee supported his chin as he bit his nail.

A harmless bump. That’s all it was. A man, infested by a drunken stupor most his life, stumbled as an octopus would into the very edge of Mark’s vision. Tripping over his own feet he bumped against Mark’s shoulder.

“Sorry brother,” The man stood and looked down at him through filmed eyes. “Didn’t see you there,”

“It’s alright.” Mark looked the man up and down before returning to his musing. The man continued to look down at him however.

“What’s wrong brother?” The man reached forward to grip the same shoulder he’d assaulted. “Ain’t I said sorry?” He gripped Mark’s shoulder tighter. “Why you want to ignore me like that? Think you’re too good to rise when a man such as I speaks to you?”  

Mark looked at the man with serious confusion and contempt. Why was he doing this? Any other man would have risen up and punched the offending man square in the jaw. Mark had hardly even noticed him. Why would purposefully pick a fight with someone who didn’t mean any harm? He thought he’d given him what he wanted. Apparently he wanted the opposite.

He wore a smirk on his face as he grabbed Mark by the shirt collar and hauled him to his feet. Mark didn’t fight against the pull. He really didn’t like to fight. But he supposed that, while he was here, he would have to put that personal distaste aside if he wanted to stay alive and with a shred of pride intact.

“What you going to do brother?” The waft of deprivation engulfed Mark’s senses as the man whispered closely. He glanced around. His other cell mates were not looking, not listening, but were very much paying attention. In this small of a place nothing goes unnoticed. No one rose to aid either man in their conquest. This suited both just fine.         

Without another word the man swung back to hit. Quickly, as one who has done the move before, Mark ducked out of the way, feeling the breeze over his head as a fist parted the air where his nose had been, and lurched forward, knocking the man off balance. Training kicked in and before the blink of an eye could be finished Mark had the man in a choke hold. Moments later he passed out.

A minute later a guard passed by. “What’s wrong with him?” He asked, motioning to the motionless body left lying in the middle of the floor.

Mark shrugged and the guard moved on, little concern on his face. Mark leaned back and rested his chin on his knee again. His father had always told him to make the best of any situation he found himself in.

Mark would try.  


All eyes turned to the man who blew in. Squeaky hinges announcing the arrival of a newcomer walking through the saloon doors without a sound. He headed straight to the bar, careful to keep his hat and eyes pulled down low, lower than the floor.  


“Where you from stranger?” The bartender asked, forever polishing a fine glass that hadn’t seen liquid in five years. The man remained silent, instead holding up a finger. Pouring a drink the bartender next asked him where he was heading. Again the man remained silent.


During this time the man’s attention had been drawn to a bit of a ruckus. Poker was the game, and a good game at that. Five men sat around a round table near the back of the saloon, as was customary. They’d fallen silent when the man had first entered, watching him with judging hawk eyes like the rest, but had quickly been drawn back in by their addiction.


Now the strange man was not a fan of gambling. But at the same time he was. Standing from the bar he invited himself into their game. These men of chance knew each other well and also knew a sucker to be had. They thought it good one had fallen into their laps so willingly.


A new game began and quickly ended. The newcomer lost what little money he had. Next he bet his hat. That he lost. Next his gloves. Those went. Then his scarf. That as well. Finally he bet his boots, a nice but worn pair. But alas, those he lost. The other men grew bored. It wasn’t even sport at this rate. But at last the underdog bet it all, his gun; a man’s pride packed into a handful of metal. This the other men were mildly interested in, so they went all in. A difficult battle ensued, making the whole room sweat.


Finally, finally, the stranger won. Outraged the others grabbed their own guns, flipping their chairs back. But the gunman was quicker, throwing up his gun into the nearest man’s face.


“Listen here boys,” His voice surprisingly coy. “I won fair and square.”


“I think not.” The click of a gun froze him. Turning his head and inch and his eyes a mile he found himself had by the sheriff. Reaching up his sleeve, the Sheriff discovered an ace stashed. “Throw down your gun and come along quietly.” The Sheriff ordered.


Obeying, the man started to laugh, then cry. “My family…” He spoke.


“What about them?” Asked The Sheriff.


“I’m trying to find them, but it seems the closer I get, the farther set back I become.” Raising his hands, the gunman slowly turned and bolted for the door. Shouting, the Sheriff cocked his gun and let a bullet fly.


The gunman saw light reflected off the sand the streets of the town were made of. It was awfully rough to land on, but by that time he felt little. Struggling to stand, the man promised in his heart that he would experience that ecstasy of a reunion soon regardless of any setbacks he encountered. Regardless of how many times he fell, regardless of the blood choking his throat, regardless of the cloud blocking out his vision. He was so certain he family was just within grasp. Why, they were so near he could smell the soap off his daughter’s head.