𝓂𝒾𝒸𝒽𝒶𝑒𝓁, 𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝑜

wrong place at the wrong time

tw: violence

you rolled your eyes and walked back the kitchen after taking the rude mans order. you gave the cook the order and told him to make sure to do bad.

you peeked from around the corner of the kitchen and watched him. he was a fat, messy, vile stinky piece of shit. he had grabbed your ass when you walked past earlier, and once you took his order he asked you out. you politely declined, holding in all your anger. he called you a worthless whore and spat at you.

you narrowed your eyes and clenched your fists as you watched him stare at another woman's breasts. oh well, men are men.

you turned around and started for the trash can. it was almost full and you were the one supposed to empty it. this place was shitty alright, but not as shitty as your coworkers. all disgusting meth addicts who grope and scream at you all day.

you groaned and threw the big black garage bag over your shoulder and held the other one in your other hand. you started for the back door.

you worked at a restaurant called promise pron-dogs, which was basically just an old, smelly, empty hot dog place. the food sucked and the people who ate their also sucked. your whole neighborhood sucked.

you lived in a small town a few hours out of new york city. you lived in a small crappy apartment above the restaurant. okay so it wasn't a traditional "apartment", but it was a room that no one used and had a sleeping bag inside. so it's what you called home.

you'd been dirt poor your whole life. your childhood was rough. you lived with your mom and brother in riverton, wyoming. your dad had left when you were just a baby so fuck him. your mom was a kind hearted woman who just wanted the best for you. you loved her dearly and she was about the only good thing about your childhood. she died when you were 18. your brother had already moved out so you were forced to move out, depending on what he fact that you had no job or money.

you got a ride from an old man who was heading to new york city to persue an acting career. his name was clark gable. he was now a hit movie star. he was the only father figure you ever felt you had. it was only a 15 hour drive, but a 15 hour talk. he dropped you off on a curb in the city and drove off. you eventually realized that nyc was too expensive for you so you found a boyfriend and moved to norwood, new york.

huge crime population there but your boyfriend at the time, alex cunning, was a drug dealer so he blended in nicely. you and him split in 1942, after he beat you up for cheating on him. you deserved it though. like honestly you did.

it was now 1945 and you were still in this damn town. the restaurant paid well, but not well enough for you live in. so once and awhile you'd go out to the city and prostitute yourself. you can make good money with that kinda job. but you only did in here and there because you wernt super into being used for sex. i mean it's hot if it's like your boyfriend but strangers? no no. and then men who would buy you for the night? fucking hideous. all drunk fat losers.

you didn't love your life, but you were fine. you wanted to try for your mom. you knew that she wouldn't want you giving up. but it was ONLY for her. any other reason, and you'd be jumping off a cliff tomorrow.

the thing you liked about yourself was the drug thing. living in a town like emeryvile, your bound to get addicted to something. but not you. you smoked sometimes and snorted some shit on special occasions, but you knew that if you got into that stuff, that there was no coming out of it for you. it's how your mom died, so you didn't want to continue the reputation. an overdose on meth.

you bit your lip and turned the doorknob to the alleyway. you stepped out and felt the cold air hit your face. you took it in and closed your eyes for a moment. you let your long curly hair blow in the wind gracefully. you took a deep breath and shut the door behind you.