#why nit she basically is my oc with all this backstory shjsjsj

[ennaku-sirri-da]

My Best Friend is dead. Her name ...was MARTHA. She resides in the bathroom now, but I'm still trying to make her smile. [ Part 1 ]

HhhhhHhhh

The NoSleep story title aside, here's the...story! I can't really think of a proper way to introduce this but it will probably be broken into parts.

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Let's start from a bit of the beginning, shall we? The beginning...of her ending.

( Man it's a bit weird narrating all this when it was all just built up in chats. But it's a little exhilarating too. Like I'm actually telling you a story. How strange. )

Martha. Best of her peers, best of her age, shining star of her school-- All Saints High. Music? Voice of an angel and incredible range to boot. Learns from regular piano lessons without fail. Studies, sports? If you want to get on her level you'll have to grind HARD, and then have to answer her attempts to take the crowning seat back, as well. She can hurl a volleyball just as well as she can jot down Science notes. (Their theology classes fill her with just enough doubts to seek out more on her own ). She's no nobody. Everyone knows her name. She knows them, too. Well enough not to take anything lying down( LEAST of all taunts about her pronouncedly fluttery accent and her own accompanying G-rated cursing ). She won't just survive-- she will surpass. And she's built up the assets needed with everything shes got. Money, skill, sweet words, blackmail, friendships, favours, petty revenge, precious time, sweat, perfection. ALL of it.

Home is a hole.

It is void. A fine place to read thrashy romance novels, if only to forget about the endlessly yawning cavern depths. Others exist, somewhere there. She exists alongside them but they do not acknowledge her. It is alright as long as she never causes a scene, breaks the silence. It is even more alright when she keeps aiming past what is to her the sky, sun and space and beyond and catches their attention. Sometimes, achieving this even means a warm smile or two of them, from the two of them, thrown her way.

She catches it, picks it up, learns to plaster it across on her face. Red lips frame white teeth that twinkle like stars.

Pity they fell out then.

No one could believe it. No one wanted to believe it. In fact, common, widespread verity was so grim in prospect, so sticky a situation that it would attract investigators like flies to the rotting corpse, so un-profitable in comparison to the sum offered to keep lips sealed and stories spun-- that in the end, all that blew up the town to fearfully great heights was that there was a killer on the lose.

The newspapers turn obsolete.

Law efforts turn obsolete.

Gossip becomes old news.

Students turn obsolete as they graduate into college-age adults.

The holy water sprinkled on her casket goes stale.

Her friends do not visit anymore, because life has taken them away.

The school still stands, without Martha. She is there, of course. What could it ever be without her? She keeps asking herself,

staring into the dirty thing bobbing in dark water

cannot leave this bathroom stall

should not

for her murderer is outside, walking free, living, teaching freely

They say if you stay in the stalls all by yourself or look at the stretching mirrors too long, she will appear to drag you into the stories herself. They say if you are unluckier still, it will show itself, rising, rising, rising from and out of the times past, to the top of the water...

[ ID: PNG of an item from Smile For Me the game, a pair of plasticky looking red jaws with yellow teeth, called the 'Toilet Teeth'. End ID]

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Habit is pretty new around here, but if he can't find a single friend then God help him he is going to make the ghost in the bathroom who may-or-may not-exist-but-hopefully-its-a-may-- his friend. Now if only he had any idea where to start?!?!

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