WHO: Francis Taylor & Cleo Moore WHEN: May 30th WHERE: Pool WHAT: Frankie doesn’t swim so she doesn’t quite know why she’s even here. WARNINGS: TBD STATUS: Incomplete
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Frankie didn’t really know why she was here and how she even ended up here. The natatorium was too warm and the chlorine stung her eyes a little. She stayed because it was quiet. There was no one else around. There were no bleachers to sit on so she made her way towards the actual pool. Frankie had no intention of getting in. It wasn’t like she didn’t know how to swim. Her parents took her to swimming lessons when she was little. She wondered if that was something you’d forget after not doing it for awhile. Was it like knowing how to ride a bike after not riding one for so long? Frankie didn’t know and she wasn’t going to test that thought today and probably ever.
Her pants were bunched up above her knees before she approached the edge. She took another glance around, peering over her shoulder just to make sure no one had slipped in without her knowing. When she was satisfied, Frankie lowered herself down. She dipped her legs into the pool and it caused little ripples. Silently she watched the ripples disperse out from her legs.
It was getting too hot, so hot that it made Frankie pull off her oversized hoodie. She crumpled it up into a ball and crammed it at her side. Beneath the security of her hoodie were unsightly bones that crudely pushed out from her skin. Each column of her spine were long and jagged that was very reminiscent to the neural spines of a goddamn spinosaurus. They were a bitch when they grew, the pain was immense and it kept her up that night. They felt like growing pains, but hell were they worse. There were more bones, little patches down her arms. Blunted spikes on her shoulders.
They were everywhere and she hated it.
But, for now, she’d forget about it and stare down into the depths of the pool.