The local news came on. Grumbling, Heather emptied her Mother’s ashtray and lit a new cigarette. She began to day dream about her enemies at college, and how, exactly, she could break them. Before thinking about swapping the water in the drinking fountain for bleach, she had coffee heart just by imagining pushing Rachel Hunt and her purged stick legs down the old Victorian stairs. The overly made up, dead eyed news reporter began to read the auto cue.
“Another diver has gone missing in Stoney Cove. French businessman Martin Fox, Twenty Seven, came to the world renowned cove to dive and explore the many sunken objects and vehicles. Could this be the start of another group of divers disappearing in the water, similar to the Sunken Seekers of 1943 where seven men...”
The report trailed off in Heather’s mind as her Mother slapped an egg on a plate and pushed it in front of her. Heather pushed her fork against the chicken abortion, and raw, urine coloured eggwhite came pouring out. She threw the plate in the bin, picked up her bag and stubbed her cigarette out in the sink. Heather became an empty sarcophagus.
Slinking around the back of the new Geography block, Heather pulled out a cigarette and lit it. She breathed in and felt relaxed.