Shatter Love [FP Sequel]

[1] me, we, you

conrad

For wealthy people, we sure were poor.

No, no, it wasn't we, I realized as I walked down the street. We insinuated that we hadn't become disjointed, which was a lie. We had long since broken.

It was something that replayed in my head as I continued to walk, fingering the seven dollars I had in my pocket. They felt like sandpaper underneath my chilled fingers, a signal that it wasn't the best night to be walking to the local 7-11, but I didn't have a choice.

I didn't have a job or a credit card — due to my mother's proclamation that I was too young and irresponsible to handle my own money. Thus, I had to rely on her — like most children did rely on their parents. But when times got tough, so did that reliability.

It was never me before you until it had to be. Parenting was essential for both parties, and once lost — there was no we. The two parties continued to exist, coexisting with no sense of dependency, no sense of love. They were bland interactions, and I didn't know about my mother — but it made me crack a little more each day.

The fluorescent lights of 7-11 lit up the block, which was otherwise cloaked by pitch black skies and gentle snowflakes raining down onto the pavement. In October, that shouldn't have been possible, but most things didn't make sense these days so why question it?

I folded my arms over my jacket — which stopped little of the cold from seeping into my skin — and walked with shaky steps on numb feet, teeth chattering a frantic beat. Everything fucking hurt so bad, it was difficult not to succumb, to just give up and give in and let everything go.

It would make things so much simpler, to do just that, but I knew I couldn't. He wouldn't have wanted me to, and I couldn't let anyone else down.

I kept my eyes down as I neared the store, my chest clenching unwillingly. Boisterous, dirty laughs filled my ears and crawled all over my skin. Smoke billowed, eyes hardened, thoughts wondering what a vulnerable kid was doing in that part of town. In their eyes — anyone there knew what they were doing, or didn't mind consequences.

They weren't exactly wrong, but the main reason was that nowhere was closer.

I entered the store and picked up chips, a candy bar, and a soda before walking up to the counter. The man at the register gave me a small smile, as he said, "Hello."

I muttered one back, taking the time to study the man as he began scanning my things. He had beautiful dark skin, the color of coffee beans. It was smooth, glowing, and looked soft to the touch. His sculpted eyebrows furrowed as he licked his full lips, lifting his eyes — which weren't his, but his. My breath caught in my throat.

"That'll be five seventy-nine." He said softly, sounding too much like him. The similarities sent me spinning out of control, something I tried not to show as I handed him a few crumpled bills. He took it and gave me my change, fingers lingering as he slipped it into my palm.

"Thanks," I murmured. He gave me a nod, and let me hurry away without another word. However, when I reached the door — I couldn't help but turn back.

The man's shoulders were slumped over the register, his teeth biting down on his lower lip as he worked. His short, black hair allowed for me to see every feature of his face. More than that — to memorize it.

It was wrong to see him as him, but guilty pleasure was too strong a force to argue with. And when love had been so easily stolen from me, I couldn't help but feel I deserved to feel pleasure by whatever means — moral or not.

It wasn't as though it was easy to come by these days, when everything else about my life was surrounded by hate.

* * *

Hey guys!

I didn't expect to update so soon but I only had one exam that ended early today so I had time to both study and write the first chapter for Shatter Love!

One big concern for me is that a lot of you commented on the prologue and said that although you liked how poetic Maya was, you couldn't wait to see Conrad's POV, so I guess what I'm asking is: was his voice satisfying? I've always kind of planned for them to be similar, but I was wondering if it was a good enough difference/similarity for it to be likable? Let me know in the comments!

Also, Target's #OnceUponNow contest has begun for the voting portion and I'd really appreciate if you guys could vote for me! My story is called The Sugar Slump [which you can find on my profile] and all you would have to do is vote on the blurb and chapter 1 between now and June 21st! Thank you guys so much for the support!

Now I'm off to bed + studying for my math exam tomorrow, so wish me luck! Love you all!

xoxo,
twyla