Gone

Chapter 4

I cursed loudly. The guy finally noticed me. I smirked at the shocked expression on his face as I slammed the heel of my boot into his head. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

"Serves you right for trying to rape that girl..." I muttered under my breath as I ripped open his shirt. His hard abs came into view. Normally, a girl would probably freak out and drool over his fit body. But I was not normal. I simply took out my red paint can and sprayed the words 'I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I HAVE RAPED SOMEONE' across his torso. After adding some black smoky effect and blood-like art to it, I signed his abdomen with my fake name.

The Shadow.

I was currently doing my painting. School had just finished and I had my Starbucks shift in half an hour. I chuckled at the unconscious guy infront of me and how I had vandalised his body. He deserved it. I had used the cheap paint that took months to get off the bare skin. Let him enjoy his actions, I thought. Also, if he tried to sleep with anyone, the person would probably freak once she (or he, who knows?) saw the graffiti. I put away my paints and walked away from the dark alley. He didn't have to worry. He would just wake up with a nice bump on his forehead, a frightening sight on his body and a vague memory of a tall girl dressed in black and half-hidden by the shadows kicking him. Just dandy.

Upon reaching my home, I dumped my bag on the floor and changed into a simple white T-shirt and blue skinny jeans complete with worn sneakers. I looked like a typical average high schooler trying to scrape a few dollars for a gift for their best friend. Nothing could be more different. Even though I was the not-gonna-care-for-your-shit and the sort of brave 'gangster' girl, I had absolutely no tattoos and no piercings. First of all, I had no money. And secondly, my graffiti satisfied my craving to express myself. I didn't need to ink or stab my body for that.

"Hello! Welcome to Starbucks! How may I help you?" I asked the lady infront of me in my best cheery voice. It was part of my job description.

"A chocolate iced latte!" She snapped irritably and shoved money into my hands. I fought to keep the happy-go-lucky look on my face. Some customers were just plain rude. But I would get fired if I talked back. So I swallowed my retorts, bitterness and anger and handed her the drink calmly. That was the hardest part of my job.

"A milk coffee with extra sugar and two whipped creams ontop with a chocolate sprinkle with marshmallow toppings and caramel fudge, please," A very familiar deep husky voice greeted me as I welcomed the next customer without looking up from the counter. I glanced up to find none other than Jake smirking at me. I kept my composure and handed him his long order with a calm and collected expression. I gave no sign of recognision; only simple polite indifference. He furrowed his brows but walked away after our exchange.

As I greeted the next customer without taking my eyes off the polished counter again, I received yet another shock. This time, I wasn't nearly as cool as before.