Those Girls

Those girls stand across the rink from me, staring, monsters made of eyeliner and fleece and chewing gum. Passing skaters blur my vision, but I can still see their lips, the sharp angle of their jaws, the steam rising off their hostile, perfect skin. They’re legion, no discernible leader, no discernible number to their group; a wall of lions that would chew me apart just as easily as they’d yawn.

They stand and stare and judge. They beckon, their eyes daring me and the others to try to draw their attention, try to matter, try to leave this rink in any state other than broken. I’ve watched them slay men greater than me, pick the bones of boys dry with their neon fingertips. I’ve watched them do this night after night and I’ve shivered, but still here I stand, a sacrifice in waiting, a snack between meals.