When my shifts are over I wave goodbye to my co-workers and Alex. I'm about to leave but I hear my name being called. "Britney-" He pulls me in for a tight hug and I gasp in pain. "Get off me." I push Alex's body off of mine and hold my torso. "You need to be more careful." I tell him. "Sorry. I just thought you needed a hug. Take it easy." He pats my head and I smile before leaving the store. I'm tired after a hard day at work. Not to mention the weather is far too high. Despite that, I go to a nearby smoke store and buy a packet of cigarettes. They've always eased my pain, which is ironic but explicable to me, especially with all of the emotions I feel.
As I stand on the curb in the hot sun and wait for a taxi to appear, a person shoves me from behind. I fall to my side and groan. I look to see a man about my age on the floor beside me, looking apologetic. "Can you please watch where you're going?" I hiss as I attempt to stand up but the man stands up first and offers me his hand. I don't take it and stand up by myself because I'm fearful of how tight his grip may be. My hands are sore and numb. "Britney?" I look up to him and frown. He must have heard about me. I think everyone has, by now. "Yes?" "It's me, Mark. Mark Jones? Maybe you don't remember but you helped tutor me in chemistry when I was a senior two years ago." When he speaks his name I smirk. "Oh, I remember. How are you?" "Well, I've been great ever since you helped me. I'm twenty, now, and I got into a pharmaceutical course at Columbia. I'm almost done, actually. I'll be a qualified pharmacist by the time next year starts, hopefully by the end of the next winter." I want to go back into the past and slap myself for making such a over complicated and hard decision of becoming a doctor. It would have been best to choose a similar career choice or I may as well have become a pharmacist. At least I would've been successful. Hell I probably could've done honours without a problem and finish within two years instead of over three. I could have been properly employed and so much of my life would be worth living. My future wouldn't be as unfulfilling as it is now. I wasted so much effort and money in trying to become a doctor only to give up because I couldn't keep up with the expenses.
"That's great, congratulations." I sigh. "Oh I'm sorry, did I hurt you? I didn't mean to make you fall, I was running because I was trying to get to the subway and catch my train, but I think I already missed it." He rambles. "It's okay. Well it was nice seeing you again." I see a taxi and hold up my hand to catch the driver's attention. He sees me and it soon pulls over to the curb. I open the door and get inside of the vehicle. "Wait," Mark holds the door open before I could close it. "Um, I know this might be sudden but do you want to go out or something? I mean we need to catch up and everything." I scoff under my breath and shake my head. "No, I don't think so." I deny his suggestion. "Well...can I at least get your number? Who knows I might need your help again in the future."
I begin to laugh. "You want some numbers? Alright, I'll give you some numbers. I have 0 friends, and I had 0 hours of sleep last night. I had 2 shifts today and stood on my damn feet for almost 8 hours, and for what? To make only 3 sales all because customers were scared of my hands that are fucked forever which you didn't even seem to notice. I had 7 people die because of my mistakes, and I have 1 funeral to go to, which, ironically enough, I was the cause of. I currently have 34 stitches all over my body because I was stabbed 2 times, had 1 shot into my hand, and 1 huge fucking piece of glass put into my leg to stop me from walking because a crazy person tried to kill me. 18 is the number of cigarettes I plan to smoke when I get home, and the number I intend to punch you if and when I get the chance. On a scale of 1 to 10 -1 being absolute shit and 10 being just delightful- negative 23 is the number of my current mood. Right now, I have exactly 1 dumbass frat boy trying to hit on me for a reason that I don't really know considering I've been looking like a mess for months now. 764-8320, you wanted my number, there you go. Now I don't know if you got any of that, but I don't really care. I'm sorry but I'm not usually someone who tolerate's stupid shit. I may be blonde now but don't generalise. I'm not as dumb as I look." I slam the door shut and tell the driver the address to my apartment and he drives off. I see Mark with a speechless expression as he stood on the curb. "Boy you sure told him." Commented the driver. "I'm not in the mood."

YOU ARE READING
This is life.
RomanceBritney Patterson was always known for being advanced. In everything from her academics, to her looks. She was fairly intelligent, scoring an IQ of 138 and heading to college as she had just turned 17. She was also young and utterly as well as unden...