Guns & Roses (WATTYS 2017)

seven - tales & texts

Sorry I didn't update yesterday, and that this update is late - my head is killing me but I'll push through it :)

I return to my condo in a huff, my mind hazy and spinning from what just happened. I just saw someone...Luka...get shot. And that's not even the part that scares me the most. I wanted to help him, because I wanted to learn more about him. 

I don't know what it is about him. Yes he's unbelievably attractive, and he practically reeks of danger. But it's more than that. There's something so...familiar about him. Maybe it's the sound of his voice or the mysterious nature of his past. 

Or maybe I am just lonely as hell. 

The condo is quiet. West must have gone somewhere with Vanessa. Thank God, I don't have any patience left to deal with his bullshit. 

Heading to the fridge, I pull out one of the microwave Hamburger-Helpers I bought, slipping it into the rusty microwave. I better not get lead poisoning from this prehistoric cooker. 

The microwave whirs, and I lean against the wooden counter. Inhale. Exhale. Breath, Katya. 

You did what you had to do, you couldn't just ignore the bleeding boy in the parking lot. 

But a pit in my gut grows: he didn't even care that I bandaged him, cared for him. Maybe he doesn't know how to care. 

God, I'm so pathetic. He probably gets shot on a weekly basis, and each time a new girl hops down from her roof to rescue him. He probably planned it all. 

My mind wanders to the detention room, to his slim fingers around my hair...

"Because you're not scared of me." 

I bet this is all a game to him, cat and mouse, chasing me round and round the table until I stop for a breath, start to trust him, and then he pounces. 

Maybe he wants to transform me from a "goodie" to a "baddie", to turn me out as a trick on the corner. Omg he's probably an infamous pimp that is running from the SVU. 

Okay, Katya. Eat your mac and cheese, you're not yourself when you're hungry. 

I grab the food from the microwave, wincing slightly at the hot steam, and throw a fork into the little dish, settling down at the wooden table to eat my delicious melted gold. 

I audibly groan at the taste. I hadn't realized how long it had been today since I'd eaten anything more than a french fry. 

French Fry. 

Zeke. 

How did he get my number? 

The distrusting side of me is suspicious, wondering if he's in cahoots with Churro. But the girly teenage fluffy side of me thinks the world is a romance novel and I'm starring in it. Give me a break. 

If this were some sappy Nicholas Spark's novel, I wouldn't be sitting in a shitty condo, with a missing mother, and a future drug lord down the hall. Trust me, no one would read that book. 

.......

"Earth to Katya!" I gasp out of a daydream, and stare to see Zeke's concerned and frowning face in front of mine. 

School is already over and we're sitting on the swings outside the school, rusty seats on rusty chains on a rusty playground. 

"Sorry." I mumble, running a hand through my hair. I've been lost in thought since last night, my mind replaying and re-replaying every single glance, sound and second of Luka.