SCYTHE

1.𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍

The entire night passed, and I couldn't stop being wary of the psychopath I met. Several times throughout the night, I checked the view of our driveway through the window in my room.

No one was there.

I also thought about whether it was a release of my imagination, as I was wasted. However, that manly, deep voice was real. It was hard to get it out of my head.

I explained to Grandma that a dog was chasing me, and I'd dropped the beer she longed for. Thankfully, she wasn't mad; I didn't bring any.

Every couple of minutes, I rolled to one side before switching to the other. I checked the time on my phone, which indicated that I didn't have much time before my shift at the bar began. Bartending wasn't something I particularly liked doing, but I had no choice. We were in need of money. Grandma has a job as well, although that doesn't pay much.

To describe my job, it is simple. Bartending is like walking around hell, and you see all those demons around you, staring at you and longing for you. But you have to put up with it with a smile on your face. They leave a good tip otherwise.

When I opened my eyes, a tiny burst of light shone through the window. A furious rain was hammering against it. I grabbed my phone next to me and checked the time. It was almost ten in the morning. At least I slept a little bit, I thought to myself.

After I got out of a very cold shower, I dressed in denim gray jeans and a turtleneck t-shirt, then layered an oversized leather jacket over it. I entangled my hair with a hairbrush and then sprayed lots of cherry perfume all over me. The last touch was wine-red lipstick, so every man could focus on my lips while I talked to him.

I dashed down the stairs, realizing that Grandma had already left for work. I took an apple from the dining table basket and swung open the door to go.

A case of beer was placed in front of the doors. At first, I didn't understand, but then I recalled yesterday's night of terror.

It was the same case I'd left at the graveyard. I peeked outside, looking on either side, to see if I saw anyone who could have left it there. No one suspicious could be seen. Only a stray cat was walking down the empty street.

I pulled back the sleeve of my jacket to see my wristwatch. It was almost past half-ten.

"Shit." I cursed quietly and rushed out of the door, leaving the case of beer untouched outside.

• • •

My shift was boring as hell. Not a lot of customers came today. I was still hopeful because towards the evening it was usually fully crowded here, and it might be surprising, but some customers loved my presence and insisted I should have a drink or two with them. The most surprising thing is that the majority of these people were women and not men.

The door swung open, and a woman in her mid-twenties marched toward the bar counter where I stood behind, washing beer glasses.

"Hello there, darling. Could I have a glass of the strongest bourbon you got there?" She said with a silky, low voice.

A smile was carved into my face. "Of course."

She placed her small, leather-covered black purse on the counter and dug through her pockets, lifting a pack of cigarettes from it. She lit the cigarette, taking in a long breath of nicotine and blowing it through the corner of her mouth. Grey smoke lingered in the air.

I placed the glass of Bourbon in front of her. She grabbed me by my wrist, piercing her eyes through mine as they met.

I focused on her facial features. Her plump red lips, wide, round hazel eyes, and perfectly shaped nose. Dark red, wavy hair framed her sleek cheeks. Wow, she's looking like a model, I thought.