Broken Cigarettes

chapter 1

Have you ever felt alone? Like really alone?

Well, that's how I feel drifting through life every day.

Or have you ever tried running from memories that have scarred you? You can never run fully away, but it feels like I can't run at all. Like I'm made of jelly, just stuck there, can't move, just have to suffer.

I always remember it. It's not like it was just one time, it happened a bunch of times. From different people.

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The back door opened and slammed shut, causing me to flinch in surprise. I looked up to see Jenny, one of my coworkers.

I work at Angie's dinner it's an old restaurant that's been around forever.

I was currently sitting on an old blue milk crate instead on the damp curb. With half of a cigarette left.

"What are you doing out here?" I grumbled to Jenny as she leaned against the concrete wall. I breathed out the smoke.

"My ex is in there and I can't handle seeing him right now," she shrugged.

I looked pointedly at her.

"I'll tell you, just don't give me that look" she sighed looking away. "My ex is in there with the girl he was cheating on me with, the girl happens to be my babysitter, and she is with my kid right now."
She had tears building up in her eyes.

Jenny is a sweet girl, but very naive. When she was 15, a guy told her he loved her, and she lost her virginity to him. Her virginity cost her, her life. She got pregnant. Her kid is Cole, a six year old cutie pie. Jenny didn't have anyone to watch Cole, so she hired Sabrina, a 20 year old who's face looks like it was dipped in Vaseline then covered in powder. I guess you could say, the sight of Sabrina makes me sick, or anyone who looks like her, a silicon filled cake face.

"Is there someone working the tables," I asked her. I still had about three minutes left of my ten minute break. I flicked the cigarette butt into a puddle. Watching it sizzle in the water.

Jenny nodded, her blonde hair going everywhere. Her dark 5 inch roots were all i could look at.
Jenny lives in a trailer park with her boyfriend and Cole. Scratch that, with just Cole.

"Well, my breaks over," I mumbled standing up and brushing the dirt off my grey jeans that were splattered with paint and rips- no i didnt buy them like this.

Jenny nodded to me, taking in a deep breath and shaking her head.

I left her alone, and walked back into the tiny diner.

Bad lighting and fried food filled the air.

I noticed Jenny's ex boyfriend, babysitter and son were sitting in a booth at the back, being waited on by Devon, the peppy red head that worked here since last week. I didn't like Devon. I don't know how to put this lightly, but I'll try; I think Devon's a fake backstabber. You know the kind, when there's a girl who throws fake smiles at you and gets your trust, then just throws everything back in your face like a true bitch. That's Devon.

I slowly walked over to a table of four guys. All with tattoos and leather jackets. They all had wrinkled old faces and tanned skin.

"hey sweetheart, can you grab us four beers" the man with the white and black bandana on his head asked smiling at me and giving me a once over.

I gave them a fake smile and grabbed their beer for them.

Anyone would look at these four guys and think that they're in some sort of biker gang, like Sons of Anarchy, but, no they aren't. when I look at them, they appear to be four friends trying to recover their youth by wearing leather and looking all tough.

After getting the men about their sixth beer, knew it was going to be a long night. Me and drunk men do not mix. I'm actually terrified of drunk men, especially the angry drunks.

I just wished I could be in my bed, curling into the soft, warm comforter.

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Waking up just reminds you that you have to act another day. Be in character every moment; from start to finish. It just that, I'm not a great actor.

My alarm clock sounds like a dying animal. My room looks like it's the size of a prison cell. Folded and refolded and ripped posters hanging on the dirty white walls that classify as grey now. Living in a house that smells like moth balls and nicotine. All these things have their perks I guess.

I am a senior in high school, a couple more months and I won't have to see all those losers every day, with no place to escape them. I am 18, but I'm living with my uncle till the school year ends, then I guess he'll throw me out.

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I slide on a pair of black jeans and navy long sleeve, the sleeves were stretched out and baggy.
Minimal makeup is for those like me trying to save up all their money. Dark red hair, almost blood red, wavy and looking like a brushed through rats nest.

I avoid people at school and for the most part they avoid me. I don't need friends, sure they may be great to have somedays. I don't need the drama. I will be gone soon and it won't matter either way.

The beginning of each year, a bunch of people try to talk to me, try being the key word here. I don't need friends, or a boyfriend. Nobody will be there when it really matters. They usually end up being fake anyway. I'm fine on my own, I like being on my own. It strengthens you.

I walked down the creaky stairs, my school bag in-hand. I was scared to see my Uncle. He gets angry, a lot. He just yells, he would never hit me.

I didn't hear him, but that doesn't mean he's not sleeping on the couch or passed out on the floor.

I walked into the tiny living room with the couch flipped over on its side, a little baggy filled with white powder, which I presume is his coke, with a rolled up bill on the old wooden coffee table and a razor blade.

So he just had his fix, so he's probably out somewhere. He never wants to see me when he's just used. He says 'it brings him down'. Which is probably better for the both of us.

I'm living with my uncle since my mother finally lost her custody of me about two years ago. I never want to see her useless horrid face again.

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