Room 417, Wednesday night

[fates_jaye]

It's weird, Jaye thinks, getting into bed and pulling the covers up over her. It's been quiet. Really quiet. It's not like she's been around a ton, but still.

It's been quiet in here.

Not that Jaye's complaining.

Comments

[fates_jaye]

...

[fates_jaye]

Jaye settles into bed and closes her eyes.

[fates_jaye]

All I wanna do is to thank you
even though I don't know who you are

[fates_jaye]

Jaye's eyes slam open.

[fates_jaye]

You let me change lanes
while I was driving in my car. . .

[fates_jaye]

Whoever you are
I wanna thank you who...

[fates_jaye]

"Oh my god, I hate you," Jaye says.

She sits up. "I get a message first, right? Then the Chinese water torture effect?"

[fates_jaye]

Help him move on.

[fates_jaye]

"Bite me," she hisses, and flops back onto her bed, covering her face with a pillow and wondering if she can suffocate herself.

The obit should be interesting.

Jaye Tyler, dead at the young age of 16 from self-induced asphyxiation during a 'sode. Not dirty.

[fates_jaye]

You let me change lanes
While I was driving in my car. . .

[fates_jaye]

Jaye's calling the crazy house. No, seriously.