It Hurts

ACTIVE WELLNESS CREATIVE WRITING ASSIGNMENT FOR CITY COLLEGE PETERBOROUGH 10.7.2017

A piece of writing that starts with "It hurts".

IT HURTS

"It hurts," Georgie Holland muttered into the Ladies' Room mirror, as she gently prodded the bruise on the left side of her neck, "worse than any love bite I've ever had." And, on reflection, she had had many love bites and not just on her neck. How many arguments had she had with her mother over the ugly purple bruises? How much make up would she need to conceal this mark, not just from her mother, but from her boyfriend, Matt?

She rummaged through her handbag until she found some talc and concealer. Georgie dusted the bite mark with talc, which almost matched her pale skin, and then applied layers of concealer. It didn't really work: the purple mark was still faintly visible. Matt might see it and her mother certainly would.

Georgie sighed heavily, brushed out her jet black hair and began to touch up her deep purple lipstick. It had been a tough day at college, two spot-tests and an ad-hoc presentation had been sprung on the class, which, coupled with her memories of two nights before, had made it hard for her to think straight. She could scarcely believe what had happened that night ...

===

She would have sworn on the Bible that she had not been drinking that night. Georgie hadn't touched a drop for over three months. It had been at a party, of sorts, an informal get-together for someone's birthday, someone Georgie didn't even know. One guy had tried to slip something into her glass of Coke. When Georgie spotted the clumsy attempt, she had hit the roof, her temper getting the better of her. The Coke ended up in the guy's pants, Georgie's language plummeted into the gutter and she balled her fist ready to punch his lights out.

"Don't," the voice, low but clear even over the noise of the party, smothered Georgie's temper like a blanket over flames. A small, cool hand wrapped itself around Georgie's fist. "He's not worth the effort." Georgie looked around to see the shorter girl who was holding her hand. As Georgie's temper drained away, the other girl turned to the guy on the sofa. From the soft, gentle voice of a few seconds before, the girl's voice turned to East End Cockney and grated, "You better fuck off out of here, right now. Pull any more of that shit and I swear I'll kill you."

The guy, with a startled look on his face, bolted for the door.

"Sorry about my language," the girl's voice had returned to its previous mellow tone. "Some people just bring out the worst in me," she finished, a little sadly.

"Th ... Thanks," Georgie stammered, looking down at the other girl, who was head-and-shoulders shorter than she. "I'm Georgie."

"Lacey," the other girl replied, as she released Georgie's still-clenched fist and made to shake hands.

Georgie took the outstretched hand. They stood in the centre of the room, the whirl and the crush of the party melting into the background around them as they shook hands. To Georgie, the moment stretched as her gaze was locked into Lacey's dark brown eyes.

"Let's get out of here, shall we?" Lacey suggested.

The next thing Georgie recalled with any clarity was waking up in her own bed with watery Autumn sunlight leaking through a gap in the curtains. Fragments of memory floated at random through her mind: Lacey's small, cool hand locked in hers as they walked through the streets of Oxford; giggling like naughty schoolgirls; dancing under the heat of a club's spotlights, pushing away guys who attempted to join them; theatrically air-kissing their goodnights at a taxi rank; Lacey, forcing her against a wall and sinking needle-sharp fangs into the side of her neck; a rush of ecstasy; two days of feeling hungover.

===

Georgie dragged herself back to the present. Two days since she had met Lacey and she couldn't get the girl out of her mind.

Was she really just a "girl", though? Georgie wondered. Everything she could remember from that night, everything she had read in her occult-obsessed early teens, made her suspect one thing: Lacey was a vampire. But how in God's name could that be? The wildness of her early teens had caught up with her at last. Perhaps there had been something in her Coke after all? She might even have put it there herself: it wouldn't have been the first time.

"You're going mad, Georgie," she told her reflection. And perhaps I deserve it?

With that strangely comforting conclusion, Georgie swung her bag over her shoulder and strode out of the Ladies' Room.

"Hi, Georgie."

That calm, clear voice again! Georgie spun on her heel and looked straight into the deep brown eyes of Lacey. Her heart leapt!

Lacey linked her arm through Georgie's. "I've missed you, babe," she said.

Unable to control herself, Georgie replied with absolute certainty, "I've missed you, too."

Together, they walked out into the night.