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❝if only my heart were as cold as I pretend it is, maybe I could get over this.❞
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I WOKE UP again at the same time. Three in the morning. It's like my own brain has an alarm clock inside and no matter how much I want to go back to sleep, I can't. I sighed, getting out of my bed. My bare feet greeted the cold hardwood floor as they found their way in front of my closet.
I slipped on a plain white tee, my black leather jacket, and some skinny jeans with my converse. That was my usual attire and all I ever really wore. It was my signature in a way. I brushed through my dirty blonde hair and quietly slipped out the door, careful not to wake my sleeping dad on the couch.
I never bothered to put on make-up, and I didn't even own any. Maya always tried to doll me up, but I threatened to jump out of her window if she even got a brush near me.
My shoes were pounding against the concrete, the darkness creeping into Tulsa. It was dangerous here, day or night it didn't matter. I kept my hand in my back pocket, holding onto my switchblade. My switchblade was a very special thing of mine. Before my dad started drinking himself to death, we were extremely close, and he gave me this switchblade. It's a good luck charm for me.
I was the only person out here by the looks of it and the only light was from the lamp post, making the setting even creepier. I wasn't scared though, I never usually got scared of anything. I never cried either. I buried my feelings in a chest, and it's nowhere to be found. The only person I show the least bit of compassion for is Maya.
Without her, I would've been locked up in jail for life.
My hand went off my switchblade because there was nothing that could hurt me out here. I guess everyone was inside, sleeping. All of a sudden, a pair of arms grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me against a car.
"So, you think you can get away with slashing my tires?" His rough voice whispered in my ear, making chills fall down my spine.
