1 %

499 5 1
                                    

S T A R B U C K S . . . A N O N Y M O U S

So the games begin...

"FANCY THINKING THE Beast was something you could hunt and kill!" said the head. For a moment or two the forest and all the other dimly appreciated places echoed with the parody of laughter. "You knew, didn't you? I'm part of you? Close, close, close! I'm the reason why it's no go? Why things are what they are?" The laughter shivered again. "Come now," said the Lor-

My book shut, causing me to lose my page.

The deafening sound of a horn brought me back to reality, drawing me from my world of words and wonder.

"Watch where you're going!" shouted the young man behind the wheel. He was wearing a coal-grey shirt. Words or symbols were scrawled on his wrist. His gaze stared daggers into me, leaving me paralyzed on the street's crosswalk. A symphony of car horns played in imperfect unison. My feet gained momentum and I began to run to the other side of the street. I dared not look back out of fear that the man would be chasing after me. Part of me knew this wouldn't happen, but I continued to run.

My feet fell out of their comfortable rhythm and brought me to my knees. The painful friction of skin and concrete attacked my senses. Moments after, my books were strewn on the floor, soaking in a small puddle of blood, my blood. My knees were scraped and skin on my elbow was torn. A ruby-red liquid from my left temple soon found its way down my cheek. I gathered my belongings in pain, and staggered into the nearest building I could find, a Starbucks.

I stumbled through the door, leaving my scarlet mark on the handle. Shuffling into the bathroom door, my wounds seared in agony. I groped for the closest roll of paper towels and fruitlessly attempted to blot out the stream of blood, both on my knees, elbow and head. I stood warily as the crimson ink, snaked down my forearm. My breathing began falter, not of the frightening viscous red liquid beginning to gather into a minute puddle below me, but because of fear and bewilderment beginning to settle in my tiring body.

The mass of paper towels grew on my arm, knees, and head, and I soon felt a slight relief of pain. My gaze turned towards the mirror. I was confronted with a bloody figure, her skin livid and her eyes, two dark, emotionless pits.

The monotonous bathroom music dragged on, ringing over and over in my ears. I defiantly sank down to the floor with my head in between my knees. The room spun and was blurred, its colors fading away. My eyelids were beginning to droop. They shielded my eyes from the blinding bathroom light.

"No, not again - not now," I said to myself, knowing of my condition; my lungs beginning to heave, gasping for air. The room continued to spin, leaving me light-headed and nauseous in its wake. The on-going stream of water from the faucet formed a pool within the sink and started to overflow, causing droplets to plummet towards to eggshell-colored tiles.

Drip. Drip. I began to lose my focus, my mind surrendering itself to the confusion. Drip. Drip. In an instance of silence, an ongoing collection of voices began to ring in my ears. "Skye...We are waiting for you..." The words whispered with child-like voices. "Come find us Skye...," said the words, their voices gradually increasing into a murmuring buzz. Then one single voice stood out, its whisper louder than the others. It said, "Come find me Skye..." and the voices stopped all-together, leaving me wallowing in fear. Deafening silence filled the bathroom, as darkness took over my vision.

* * *

"Skye?! I have a Passion Iced Tea Lemonade for Skye!" I was startled at the mention of my name. One that was more comforting than the previous encounter of my name spoken aloud. I debated with myself whether what I had seen was a dream or reality. My name was repeated by the same voice, but with more urgency this time.

The blanket of uneasiness fell off of my shoulders and lifted a heavy weight from my body. I struggled, hesitantly getting to my feet. I took it step by step, pushing myself out through the door. The voice spoke again. "Passion Tea Lemonade for Skye!" My ears followed the voice, instructing my feet towards the counter. "Are you Skye?" the barista inquired.

"Y-yes," my lips said, unwillingly.

"Here's your drink," he said with a smile. My eyes scanned at his name tag. It read Ash; he was the same idiot who almost ran me over. I then looked at my drink. I didn't remember, ordering anything, but how could someone have known my name. I turned the cup around to see the evidence; my name was effortlessly drawn on with a dark-blue sharpie, but below it is what called my fear back. It was a message that I had definitely recognized.

I dropped the drink and it fell onto the floor, the ice clattering across the tiles. I ran away from the counter as Ash yelled from behind me, "Hey, wait!" Panic circulated through my veins as the full meaning of the message struck me. The message had read "Come find me..."

-

Hey guys, I just wanted to let everyone know that I do not own any rights to Starbucks. I am using it for the sole purpose of writing my story. But my characters are mine. Please do not steal any of my characters, storyline, or anything of the sort. Thanks and hope you guys like this story.

Starbucks Anonymous / / ON HOLD [ REWRITING ]Where stories live. Discover now