Survival Of The Fittest

Pazzt.. . Hey. Do you want to hear a secret?

Millie was lying to herself when she thought that didn't really care about anything she cared about. She was angry and she needed an outlet and she threw herself into something that gave her a purpose, and it overtook her because the world had so much that she needed to fix. The alternative was being scared. The alternative was being a frog in the boiling pot of her own frustration and pain and inability to fix things. It wasn't like she hated herself or anything, not really, but there is so much room for hatred in these parts. Like, the planet earth. Mother nature. Gaea. You know. .

So, somewhere between searching for a vehicle and giving up, she sort of felt freed. Because she didn't have the burden or the responsibility to fight against climate change and rape and femicide and the patriarchy and the building oceans and the failing economy and the pit in her own stomach that tried to swaller her whole like that ringed snake. To right the world's wrongs. If she was going to be put into the ground, it really didn't fucking matter which shithead politician is on what platform. She was a bit of an animal now, this way. A dumb instinct-driven thing that didn't need to do any particular thing except survival. And it was freeing! It wasn't fun, god no, she wasn't happy. she wasn't happy one fucking bit. But she was somehow less afraid than she was before. It wasn't as if she said, "I could get used to this," or anything, but there is no point in rage and in pain and in being anything more than she had to be!

Right so she was being a little delusional as well.

Her father wouldn't know that she died. He probably doesn't even know who she is. That's so fucked up. Wow.

At this point maybe she should get it over with, but there's no easy way to fucking die in here, you know? Like, gunshots hurt like a bitch when it's not to the head and she didn't even have a gun. And if she tried approaching someone with a gun she's probably going to be shot in the not-head and then bleed out in regret.

Like that's all hypothetical of course. Because if there was even a single, miniscule, astronomically small chance that she could make it, she'd be stubborn enough to never let go. Like, she's not the type to believe in miracles. She never bought lottery tickets. She dreads unpredictability in anything more than rng in video games or whatever. But she was a naive, hopeful idiot for ever believing that anything she spent her entire adolescence beliving in would actually make a difference, so of course she's going to be a naive idiot now and pretend that she even had a chance, as if she wasn't some mentally ill girl surrounded by people who want to kill her and are better at doing it than she would be at defending herself.

But still. Contingency plan.

It just... yknow, maybe she was starting to understand why some people don't like fighting on. She's never really faced odds this bad before. Or never subjected herself to it. Who fucking cares when the chances are one in, what, a hundred twenty? Hundred fifty? Two hundred? Shit.

Like she barely knew anyone here! Fuck!!!! Why did her life turn out like this!!!! If she knew that she would die like this maybe she should've smoked weed or something. Did something cool. Like fucking COME ON!!!

You know what she was going to live out of spite like she wouldn't even care if the girls she was with died!!! She didn't give a shit!!! Let them die!!! She wanted to live!!!!!! she wanted to survive! She wanted to go home and she wanted to turn 18! She wanted to read more fashion magazines and kiss her egirlfriend! Who the fuck cares about if anybody has to die if they're all screwed anyways? If it had to be one of them why couldn't it be her???

She ate a cracker. Or at least she thought it was a cracker.

Millie finished searching the something-like-a-cul-de-sac.

She missed her mom.

UGHHHHHHH HNGGGGGGG

OK she is normal now.

Truth be told, she just... wasn't comfortable around guns, you know? Like, it's always been this symbol to her. Not a real thing. She's seen it in tv and in person once or twice on cops and security guards but she's never actually touched one or got to known one or, like, shoot one. She hated guns. She knew that it was sometimes nessesary for people that didn't live safe comfortale lives like she did (relatively speaking.) She knew that she talked about this before, on someone else's blog, about how maybe the world would be safer if every woman had a gun. She forgot what it was that she said, exactly, but it was something along these lines.

It was kind of hard for her to articulate this sudden cognative dissonance, and suddenly she wished that she had her phone with her so she could search the words up.

Anyhow, no vehicles in this garage.