Accepted Transitions

Chapter 11

A/N: This is the author speaking. I need to say something that might change your whole view on reality, and even make insight on your dreams and memories. What I am about to say…will change your life for the better…..

I now have a guinea pig named Glass Cleaner.

Raven's POV

It was about 9pm when I got home. The air was freezing and the sky was a murky grey color. I would've enjoyed how much this weather reminded me of home…but Heaven knows that I am in such a confused and uncaring mood right now. My feet were hurting from these God-damn boots, the strap on my purse snapped, my helmet cracked right down the middle of its shield, and my makeup has smeared; so now I look like a fucking freak.

Dear God…I sound like a damn teenager.

I clumsily dismount my motorcycle and throw open the black leather seat. I grab a large brown paper bag that was filled with warm Chinese takeout and inhale the wonderful aroma. I was pretty surprise to find that Russia does indeed have such common cuisines. I would've never found one if it wasn't for…well…

I was riding down a crowded strip mall, trying to find a decent takeout place for me and Matty. I was weaving in and out of traffic, speeding down red lights, almost running into these dumbasses who WOULDN'T GET OUT THE FUCKING WAY…and avoiding man holes and car accidents.

…I fucking hate traffic.

After countless profanities and throwing the middle finger at idiots who'd cut me off, I felt like my sanity was already too little for this shit. I pulled into a vacant parking spot along the side of the road, and decided to just walk and find what I was looking for.

I took off my helmet and cradled it under my arm, then shook my hair out until it didn't feel like it was stuck to my scalp. A couple of people looked at me oddly, but whatever. They can go somewhere.

I took a deep breath and stared at the crowd in front of me. Everybody looked so monotone, so angry and upset. They had grim looks on their faces, and stared at the ground as if they were so…defeated. The cold air and the dark grey sky didn't seem to help lighten up the mood either.

This place is so fucking depressing.

With a sigh, I started walking through the miserable mob and already off the bat, I get roughly thrown to the side of the pavement, causing me to drop my very expensive helmet and purse. I groan from the impact, then looked up to see these three douche baggy guys standing in front of me. They gave dark, sinister smiles to each other.

Uh oh…

"S-stay back!" I scream in Russian.

The middle guy chuckles. He seems like the "leader" of the group. He was pretty tall and lanky looking, and he had an ugly 5o'clock shadow. His short brown hair looked greasy and unkept, and his clothes were tattered and dirty. The other guys looked exactly like him, except the one on the left was just a bit shorter and more…perverted looking.

"Ah, the African knows our language. Smart, are we?" The tall, scrawny guy says in a deep raspy voice.

Fury grows in my eyes. For every goddamn time I got called an African here…

"I'M AFRICAN-AMERICAN, DUMBASS!" I yell with a snarl. I HATE idiots like these.

"You're a loud one, aren't you? Do we need to shut you up?" He mocks. They all start stepping closer and closer to me…