Forget Me Not

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Bloody hell.

Bloody fucking hell. Bloody fucking London hospitals. Bloody fucking London. Bloody fucking table that Perrie stubbed her toe against.

Needless to say, Perrie was still seething. Her anger enveloping and consuming her like a living, breathing beast. How dare that crack-head of a doctor tell her how to and not to live her life? How dare those Goddamn machines tell her what is and isn't wrong with her? How dare them! Everything bad always happened in London, and if it wasn't for concerts, Perrie was content to never step foot in that place again.

She didn't own a car; there was no need for one considering how little she went out and how close her work was. And it was much too expensive, and Perrie knew she wouldn't be able to handle the traffic caused by people who got their damned license out of a cereal box. She could already feel her blood pressure rising by thinking of sitting behind the wheel of a car, so the few times she needed to venture to the outside world she took the bus. But this Goddamn bus was pissing her off. It wasn't even one of those new fancy ones with the gleaming paint job or smooth leather seats. This one was at least a thousand years old and in desperate need of renovation. She could hear squeaks and deep grunts of metal, as if the bus itself was protesting its use. Perrie had her hand over her nose to shield from the rank smell of urine and...something else. The seat in front of her was empty—as were most on the rancid vehicle—but she'd rather jump in a pool of used McDonalds grease than try her luck on its hygiene. So she stood.

She was located beside an obese man with lecherous eyes and a vast appreciation for her shorts. Her fist clenched. Oh what she would give to hit him once. Just once; but there were too many witnesses to claim self-defence. So she took a deep breath and tried not to look at the guy behind at the guy she was pretty sure was playing the five finger flute through the thin veil of his jacket. Every once in a while he'd make a loud grunt that all but her didn't seem to notice, and his eyes would roll back in his head. Ew. Well at least he's having more fun than me oddly the thought didn't disturb her. It had been a long time 'till anyone had blank the blank of her blank. She wasn't saving herself for Jesus or anything like that. She just couldn't bring herself to branch that type of intimacy with anyone. Some old wounds just refused to heal, and she was okay with that. Perrie turned her head just in time to see a frightened looking lady licking her cat. Were pets even allowed? Good god, she had caught the loony bus. 

Closing her eyes, she focused on the breathing techniques Sensei had taught her so many years ago. Breathe in, pushing the abdominal out. Breathe out, contracting abdominal muscles. This was one of the few techniques Perrie still practised. It helped her calm down. Breathe in, push. Breathe out, contract. In, push. Out, contract. She could feel her muscles loosening, the tension thinning. Perrie pulled out her iPod warily, half expecting a mugger to come out of nowhere and snatch her most prized possession. She shoved the buds in her ears. She had gotten it when she was thirteen at a garage sale bucket loads less than what it was worth—which in this day wasn't very much. Still when she had seen its sleek black exterior she just had to have it. Seven years later it was still serving her dutifully. No matter that it was an old model that only played music and had no touchscreen capabilities. Her iPod. Her music was the only thing that was with her through thick and thin. And anyone who tried to take the iPod from her would have to pry it from her cold dead hands.

The soft twang of the guitar and serene voice was just what she needed.

Nobody's gonna hold your hand, and guide you through

It's up for you to understand

Nobody's gonna feel your pain

When all is done and it's time for you to walk away