Hellhounds

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The nasal buzzing of the alarm clock broke through the haze of my sleep fogged mind. I threw my arm out to shut off the possessed clock, but I couldn't find the button that my fingers were desperately seeking. As the buzzing droned on I became increasingly irritated. Where was that god-forsaken clock?

The buzzing abruptly shut off, thank god. For a moment all I felt was relief. That madness-inducing buzzer was finally silent. A thought struck my slightly malfunctioning mind, but right at that crucial point, when a thought makes itself known, it was rudely cut short by my answering machine.

"Hey Vi! If you're still sleeping, then you're pathetic! Get up Violette! Are you aware that it's two in the afternoon?! WAKEY WAKEY!! I need to talk to you about that article you asked me to do some research on. Oh! And I left you some pancakes and sausage in the fridge! See you soon love! Oh wait, cou--" The message cut off mid-word.

Dammit... I slept in too late. Again. However, on a brighter note, I had food waiting for me in the fridge!

I reluctantly pulled my lazy ass out of my cozy bed and went to the spotless kitchen in the two bedroom loft that I shared with my best friend Erika Mercer.

I made a beeline straight for the fridge and noticed, aside from my awaiting breakfast, that Erika had gone shopping. My stomach finally made an appearance as I gazed upon the freshly stocked fridge, growling thunderously and making me wince in pain. I grabbed the saran-wrapped plate, uncovered it and popped it into the microwave. I hit the reheat button and went fridge diving, this time unearthing a nice cold Pepsi-cola. I cracked the top and took a long, luxurious swig, savoring the taste.

The microwave beeped, pulling me from my Pepsi induced trance. Turning toward the beeping electronic device I smiled and pulled open the door as my stomach grumbled again. I slathered my pancakes in butter, peanut butter and maple syrup before shoveling it into my mouth and finishing off my Pepsi. I was nibbling on my last sausage link while I glanced at the clock. 2:15. Damn I'm good, I thought as I finished off my sausage, rinsed my plate and ran for the shower.

After I got out of the shower, I rubbed a towel through my hair. I straightened from my bent over position and ran a brush through the neon strands. For years I had been dying my hair some crazy colors while trying to grow it out. At age 23, I have finally found the perfect length, with the perfect cornucopia of colors to match. My hair fell down my back just brushing the top of my butt. The colors I had settled on were red, blue, turquoise, green, purple and black. A chunk of red framed the right side of my face, with purple complimenting the other. The rest of the colors as well as more red and purple were placed randomly but equally all through my hair, with streaks of white blond to relieve the chaos.

The awesome thing about dying my hair was that I never had to worry about any of the colors clashing with my eyes because they were the color of diamonds with a thick black ring all around the outside edge of my irises. The whole look really worked with my willow-like figure, slightly tanned skin and pouty lips. I had always been a touch narcissistic, but I mean really, who isn't?

Right... Don't answer that...

I blow-dried and straightened my hair into obedience. When my hair was beaten into submission and up to my standards, I started in on my make-up. Today I went with a silvery-blue smokey eye complimented by the standard black eyeliner and heavy mascara.

When I was satisfied with my hair and make-up, I hot-footed it back into my disaster of a bedroom. I grabbed my favorite pair of jeans and pulled them on making sure not to get my feet stuck in any of the holes. I rummaged through my clothing bombed room looking for my modified belt. It started life as the old seat belt of a 1972 Corvette Stingray. Lately it spends a helluva lot of time around my waist.

I spotted the glinting silver in the jeans I had worn the day before yesterday. I lunged for it and nearly crushed my bass guitar before quickly pulling it from the loops if the old jeans. As I righted my bass, I held the belt above my head smiling in victory before I threaded it though the loops of my favorite jeans. Holding back my hair, I looked across my floor for a shirt. Seeing two fairly clean looking tank tops I quickly layered them on. A turquoise tank top underneath a hole infested shorter black one. Grabbing my wallet, iPod and my phone, I was headed out the door. With my hand on the outside doorknob after locking up, I cursed. I was so retarded. I sighed and unlocked the door, leaving it open as I backtracked into the living room and grabbed my hoodie off the sofa. Erika was always chewing my ass about leaving my things all over our apartment. On my way to the door, I snagged another Pepsi.

Once I got outside with the door relocked, I realized I had never called Erika back to figure out what she wanted. For God's sake! That's the whole reason I was getting ready in the first place!

I took out my phone and hit speed dial. She answered on the first ring, "Welcome to land of the living!"

"Oh shove off!" I jested back, she was always being a pain in my ass.

"So I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to that new club. You know that one, what's it called..." Erika wondered aloud.

"Oh, Hellhounds?" I asked.

"Yeah! That's the name!" Erika yipped excitedly.

"Erika, you know the people there aren't just bloody posers right?" I inquired, "They're the real deal love."

"Of course Vi! That's why I want us to go! Maybe we can finally see a real one up close!" she persuaded.

"All right, all right! I give! We'll go to your bloody bar tonight!" I consented.

"Yay!" Erika chirped, "So I'll meet you there at 9:00?"

"Yeah, all right. Bloody hell, but okay." I felt like I was sealing my life away. "I'll see you there love."

I looked at my phone and tapped the end button. Well it seemed I had a date tonight.