𝐃. 𝐋. 𝐒. || 𝐊.𝐓𝐇 ✓

ＯＮＥ

◌ ⋅ • ☽ 𖥸 ☾• ⋅ ◌

Cold air hits my skin, sneaking into my body where it cools down my lungs. I push the heavy, exit door open with all my strength before running out into the alley and puking.

The late-night air freezes me, yet it relaxes me too. My palms press against the rough texture of the bricks of the building. The dim light above me flickers on and off, hovering only on a single area to shed some light.

I place my palms to my knees, standing up as straight as I can on wobbly legs. This is dumb, and I know it.

Getting wasted at a nightclub with no one to accompany me is outright stupid, yet I did it anyway. It seems dressing up in a black cocktail dress, getting drunk with strangers at the bar, and puking my guts out only a few hours later is the way I handle a breakup.

I still don't know why the hell I had to go and date such a player in the first place. I hope he gets what he deserves.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I carefully turn around on my bare heels. My black stilettos were long gone-thrown somewhere in the club where I'm sure I'll never see again. Maybe someone will find them and make some misfortunate woman's night.

I push my hair out of my face and try to concentrate, but it's hard when I just want to lay down and sleep. I know I can't.

When the metal door busts open again, it's the men from the bar I was drinking with.

"I'm fine," my words are slurred as I throw my hand in the air half-heartedly to let them know I'm okay. However, I'm not who they're worried about.

When I turn around after hearing no response, I see all five of them on the opposite side of the nightclub building talking hatefully to someone I can't quite see.

"Where is it," the voice is distant, yet I hear every word.

I weakly step closer. Just what is going on?

When I reach the five of them, I look through a crack in the group and see another man who I don't know who's sitting on the ground with fresh blood running down his arm. I see the quick movement of a pocket knife in of the men's hands.

"I-I swear I don't have the money. Please, please give me more time-just a week-"

"More time?" A chuckle leaves one of the men. "You want more time, but you're inside a nightclub spending money?" The man clicks his tongue before reaching into his pocket.

When I see the object in his hand, I instantly start stepping away. He points the gun directly at his face, finger pressing on the trigger, but right before he pulls it, the man puts his uninjured hand in the air.

"Wait, I'll double it!" The man holding the gun lowers his weapon. "Y-Yeah, I'll double everything I owe, and I will have it paid by next week-"

"You've already doubled it the last time we met. Seems to me if you can't remember how much you owe, then there's no need in letting a lowlife like yourself live for another day." He raises his arm, and the other man shuts his eyes tightly.

It's at this very moment that I know I'm going to regret my actions. Instead of running away, which would have been the safer and much smarter bet, I run forward and slam my whole body into the man holding the gun. Now, is it smart? Hell no, but I'm not going to witness murder either.