18 years have past since I awoke from the womb of a treacherous monster.
A monster is an understatement for that wretched person.
Both of them were worse than the devil himself.
I would've rather had him raise me.
Maybe he's more interested in ceramics as opposed to painting. Although, I guess even in that area of expertise, if a pot or a mug isnt just right, you smash it and start again.
Over, and over, and over until it's perfect.
What a fucking joke.
***
"Freedom at last," I say as I look around my new apartment, taking everything in.
I had grabbed what little I owned, smashed my phone so my parents couldn't contact or track me, and ran away from my old life as soon as I turned 18. Then, I was living in my car for a month when I found a job at a quiet little bookstore across the country, in a town with fewer that 10,000 people, where I fled from my family. After a few months I had saved up enough for a new phone and set it up with a cheap service line.
I finish bringing things in from my car, lock the door, and head to work. When I get there, I go to the back to put on my uniform that sits in my employee locker.
"Morning," I heard a familiar voice say as the person slowly walked past.
"Good morning," I replied to the guy who comes in for an hour every morning at 8:00 a.m. sharp to pick up the same book and go to the same chair in the corner by the window.
"Same old book again?" I asked him.
"You know me well, love," he replied with that stupid cocky british accent.
I rolled my eyes and scrolled through my phone as I hear the store phone start to to ring.
I answer it and hear his voice come through the phone.
"Hey there, love," he whispered smugly.
"Why are you calling the store phone when you're literally 10 feet away from me? And stop calling me that," I joked.
"Well I would've texted you, but I don't have your number so..." he hinted.
"Ok ok, I'll give you my number, but spam me in the middle of the night, and you're dead," I added.
I hung up, quickly wrote down my number on a peice of notebook paper, folded it into an airplane, and tossed it to him.
Without looking up from his book, he snatched the plane and unfolds it.
He smirks as he types in the number.
*ping*
I hear my phone go off and check my notifications.
_________________________________________
???: Thanks darling ;)
???: Whatever
_________________________________________
I rolled my eyes and looked up at him with one eyebrow raised.
"You ever gonna tell me your name, or do I need to put 'Stranger' into my contacts?" I jokingly asked.
"You never asked," he added,"Pluse you never told me your's either."
"You never asked," I said.
YOU ARE READING
Gypsy
Romansa...he smelled of lavender and sage... ...a slight hint of metal... ...familiarity... ‼️I am not using the title word as a slur against anyone, it is the name of the main character‼️ ⚠️Warning⚠️: Abuse, SH, trauma. ⚠️There may be instances where the...
