Ruthless

Chapter One ~ Itch

Chapter one ~ Itch

"Be yourself because everyone else is already taken" ~ Oscar Wilde

River Blue Santos

I pushed my wet black hair out of my face, a few strands refused to budge and I left them clinging to my forehead annoyed and unsatisfied.

I pushed the wet freshly dyed black hair out of my face, leaving a few strands of hair clinging to my face for dear life, I sigh annoyed and unsatisfied.

The weather had tricked me, the brightness of the sun had awoken me from another peaceful sleep this morning, the rays had shone threw my cheap white curtains and straight onto my eyelids blinding me momentary. Letting me believe that Mother Nature will allow me a peaceful commute to work.

Once I had left my apartment it started to rain, I was confused at first as I couldn't see any grey clouds in the sky, only white puffy ones. I had thought someone had poured a large bottle of cold water over me but after looking around an empty street I noticed water dripping everywhere. Texas weather is strange.

It was too late to trudge back up the stairs to my small apartment to grab my raincoat. My job at the ammontion store was twenty minutes away and I had, exactly twenty minutes to get there.

I was one of two employees - if you included my manager - at the store, meaning I had to get there ridiculously early to open the shop and stack the shelves.

It was definitely worth it.

The pay was amazing, after the first month of working there i was able to put a down payment on a apartment I would never be able to afford if I was working somewhere else. I was supported financially enough I left the woman's shelter I had seeked refugee in for the past few weeks. It was almost like my manager had a millions of dollars to give away.

In all the time I had worked at the store I had only spoke to my manager once, I was shocked when I saw he was a man in his early twenties, owning an ammunition store in the middle of nowhere.

But I soon realised that he was not a people person, infact he acting like he was disgusted by the whole human race. It was none of my business why he clearly thought that way, so I never asked what made him look distasteful and harsh. Although I could hardly judge him, we are leaving on a trashy planet.

Surprisingly, all I had to do was tell him my name and he practically threw the job at me, along with the front door keys and a rough piece of paper with my work timetable in.

The next day, I found out he was completely drunk as he "interviewed" me.

It was clear he had a chronic drinking problem when I noticed he couldn't go more than twenty conscious minutes with out a drink, his behaviour would change and he would shake as if he had been dipped in ice cold water.

Long story short, he forgetten that he had employed me, he had threatened to phone the police when he saw me entering with the keys, until I showed him evidence that I started working there.

He just shrugged and stumbled into his office, swiping a bottle of disarrono from the liquor cabinet before slamming the door behind him. Only now did I realise that's a normal.

I inwardly groan as I look at my wet and soggy jumper. I start to feel tingles spread across my body, then like a nightmare that had come true a burst of itchiness spread through my skin. I let out a squeal, thankful the shop was empty and my manager was probably passed out in his office.

I attempt to relieve the nightmare by lifting off of my skin in areas. I shift uncomfortably but then stop abruptly as I hear the door open swiftly, making the bell which is connected to the door ding annoyingly. I stop a gather myself, biting in the internal battle to itch my wet and irritated skin.

"Hello Sir, how may I help you?" I ask to a tall muscular man that had just walked into the shop. I look at him properly. He grunts as he walks into the shop, looking around cautiously he makes his way up to the counter. He had a long greasy black ponytail, a long black beard and he was easily 6"7. His dark black orbs study me.
His muscular hairy jaw tightens and he breaths out of his nose heavily as if he'd been running, but I just assumed larger breaths were needed for his freakishly large build.

What's he doing in an ammo shop? He looks like he has the power to shit out Ak-47's and pee bullets.

"How may I help you?" I question again, becoming slightly creeped out by heavy his intense breathing and staring, he blinks and unclenches his jaw he takes a moment to look around the shop in distaste. He then turns back to face me.

"Where's the boy?" He questions, six pitches higher then I would expect. I look at him surprised but smile it off.

"I'm sorry? What boy? No one under the age of 18 is allowed through those doors," I reply looking at him strangely, boy? We don't sell children, we sell guns. Doh...

"Tell me where the boy is" he snaps abruptly. His hands slam down on the counter making the floor shake and I flinch back in shock.

He jaw clenches and he starts to look around he shop with more urgency. As if he had been activated by a remote control.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave" I say seeing him become angry, his facial expression tightens.

"Where is he!?" He spits, quickly taking out a large black instrument out from his waistband and placing it onto my forehead roughly before I could even react. It didn't take a genius to figure out by the coldness and weight of the object he had a handgun plastered to my head.

I go numb.

"The boy, where is he" He repeats, turning off the safety on the matte black gun.