Lustily

Chapter six

I woke up the next morning around 11am with a headache and a sore stomach, and a pissed off attitude, considering I let myself go like that last night. Three side affects for crying for hours, like a fucking psycho. I sat up, groggily in my head, my pillow drenched in tears and my body still trembling. Yep. Definitely a bunch of side affects. I looked out my window and saw that I kept my curtains open all night, meaning that a bunch of random people, may or may not have seen me lose my fucking cool, and have a mental breakdown. That's really embarrassing, but screw it. I just needed something to keep my attention for awhile. Something to keep my head on the present and not the past. Anything would do. Maybe I could.... Hmm, I don't know. I ran 10 miles yesterday was that a little too much? I could barely feel my legs. Only the soreness, and maybe a bit of tingling, maybe I should see a doctor? I sighed. I really just needed to get out of my head. Get out of my apartment. I got out of bed and fell straight back down on the hard floor. Ow!
Yep. 10 miles of running was a freaking mistake. I used the bed as leverage to help me back to my jelly legs. I really had now where to go, let alone anything to do. These were the times, I wanted friends, they would be my distraction to get out of my head. Give me something else to think about besides myself and my fucked up life. I sighed again. The only thing that I had to look forward to now, was my job at "B and B publishing". Which was 6 days away. What was I supposed to do for the next 6 days? Cry myself to sleep? Run 10 more miles till I literally can't feel my legs anymore? Yeah. No.
I groaned and went to get dressed, I had to find something to do. This was Chicago, a city full of people. How hard would it be to find someone willingly wanting to talk about themselves or their problems? Even if it is just for the day, I just needed the distraction, I couldn't stay in my apartment anymore, crying and losing whatever sanity I managed to keep. I looked at the temperature and saw it would be in the low 70's perfect for a long sleeve shirt and jeans. And that's exactly what I put on, along with a pair of my converses. Then I headed into the bathroom and took care of my oral hygiene, and tried my best to hide my puffy red eyes and cheeks with a bit of makeup. Then I attacked my hair, kinky and a little damped from my tears. I brushed it up, and put it in another big puff on the op of my head. Perfect. Or as perfect as I can get, anyway. Then I walked out the door, and into the hallway. Seriously, I should make a complaint about the smell. The smell of sex every time I walked out was annoying and a little concerning . I held my breath for the rest of the way, until the Chicago breeze hit me. Finally. It felt as if last night was just a dream, and now I'm back in reality. It was a great feeling, and feeling that I would have to lash onto.
I walked down the sidewalk of the once again busy Chicago street, it was about late afternoon, which was weird for me, considering me being a notorious early bird. I always did my errands early in the morning, so seeing how everything was in full motion now was overwhelming, in a good way. I saw people with bags shopping, talking, laughing, living life. While I just wanted to leech off of that happiness, that life, that laughter, and feed it to mine. Bring mine back to life. I kept walking, thinking of something to do, maybe a bookshop? Or maybe an antique store where I could find a locket or something kind of ancient? Maybe both? See? You're not as pathetic as you feel. My consciousness feeble attempt of cheering me up, and making me feel a little less lonely.
I started heading to the "Amos's  Bookshop".
Oh, wow. It's looks so fancy on the inside, like one of those types of bookshops in London, England that I've seen as I scrolled through Pinterest. Yes, because you are such a basic bitch. I laughed to myself, yep. I was a basic bitch overall. A basic bitch with trauma that really crippled her, altering her outlook on life all together. Seeing like in the darker shades of grey. Trauma that- Get out of your head. Focus on the books, oh look they have Dracula by Bram Stoker. My conscious really did come in handy sometimes, I hurried over to the book and picked it up, I heard that it was inspired by one of the original vampires in the world, Vlad the impaler. A blood drinker who tortured and kidnapped his victims before drinking their blood.
Perfect.
At least in my case. So I decided to take the book, and search around for more. The more books, the less sleep I get, which equals no more horrible nightmares and flashbacks.
Genius. My conscious agreed with me. That meant it was totally a good idea. So I walked around a picked out a few more books.
I even found the fifty shades trilogy, that was a huge success. Once I was done with my little spree, and paid for them, I walked out, feeling a little bit better.
"Oh, if it isn't Miss Lovely. Small world, isn't it?" I froze in my spot, please god, don't tell me it's that asshole from yesterday. And it looked like my prayer went in vain, because as soon as I turned around, there he was. With that fucking dimple. Fucking fuck.