Ideals and Realism

Concrete Blocks

     She walks home with the quickness of a cat and her head buried in her scarf, trying to remain unnoticed. She carefully scans the landscape making sure she is completely isolated from any danger that could possibly cross her fate.

     As she turns a corner, she looks at her watch. It is now dripped in crystal clear water droplets that resemble the most perfect cuts of a diamond, almost gorgeous in a way. She looks at the time which reads 2 am. She quickens up her pace, now knowing why the streets look so dead. She stares at her feet taking steps, noticing how her steps are almost subconscious due to the fact that every part of her is repulsed at the idea of walking home alone, in the city, at 2 am.

     The time is now 2:30 am. Ideals has gotten lost in the several streets that weave in and out like a maze of concrete blocks. She stops and sits at a bench for a while, shaking from the cold air itching at her skin.

     "Hey beautiful," a voice whispers next to her.

     She looks up and stands off the bench at the speed of light and turns her head to the left so fast that it should've cracked. What is now to the side of her is a man who looks about 20 or so, blonde hair, dark brown eyes, a nose that looks like a pelican's beak, and a bandana wrapped around his mouth with such a perfection that it's obvious he cares about the purposes for it.

     Ideals tries to back away by inching her heels towards the opposite direction, but the man grabs her shoulders to keep her there.

     "Hey, I called you beautiful, say something back to me."

     "Please stop," Ideals trembles.

     In response to her statement he tightens his grip on her shoulders. She makes a panicked noise that starts as a small trembling growl and turns into her screaming for help as he forcefully grabs her and scoops her up so effortlessly she could tell he's done this before.

     "Put me down, now!" She screams.

     "A beautiful girl like you shouldn't be out this late," He says sarcastically.

      He reaches into his pocket with an immense amount of force and pulls out two pills. As they inch towards his car, she shakes more and more aggressively. He shoves the pills into her mouth with one hand and opens the door to his car with his other.

     "We're gonna have some fun tonight bitch."

     She still is screaming, even in the backseat of his black small car. But she becomes drowsy, and those screams of terror slowly go back to small trembling growls until she drowns into a medical induced sleep.

  

     She wakes up in a bathtub. First she feels the freezing pain of the water that surrounds her body like a tightly woven cocoon, then she feels the intense pressure on her chest. Her head is barely above the waterline, and it's a miracle she hasn't drowned. She opens her eyes and tries to sit up but all she finds is a giant cement block on her chest, probably to keep her from leaving or to make her drown.

     She stands up out of the water while her soggy clothes vomit all the excess water stored in between the threads. She looks around the bathroom, it's dimly lit like the café she met Realism at, but it's also extremely dirty. Dried toothpaste is smeared around the sink, mold spores are growing behind the faucet, dirty underwear is stuffed in the corner next to the door, overall it's disgusting. The walls have a green undertone and the cabinets are a very washed out color of brown. She aggressively pats her pockets checking if her phone is in them, it's not. Even if it was it would have had water damage, so it's no use.