Serenade

Chapter 3

Author's Note : This chapter contains foul language, graphic scenes, and heavy slang usage/improper grammar. They are NOT typos, just the reality of street people and thugs. Please be advised that this chapter also contains subjects of a sensitive nature.

"Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense."
-Mark Overby

"Fuckin' finally!" the whore cheers upon lighting her cigarette butt. Taking a deep drag, she looks up as she blows the smoke out of her puckered, red lipstick smeared lips.

I'm still cloaked for now, but standing right in front of her. I was going to reveal myself to her in my true form a moment ago, but then quickly reconsider.

I wouldn't want her to have a heart attack upon seeing me. That would be far too easy, and I want this bitch to suffer tremendously.

Although a little fear never hurt anyone, right? So that decides it. I will reveal myself in a form that is in between what I really am and human; just enough to scare her until I can do what I really want to do.

She's looking around, still puffing away at that butt which is now down to the filter. She takes her last toke and holds it in as if she is savoring it. She finally exhales the noxious smoke, flicks the butt on the ground, then spits.

Nice.

She's just about to turn and head out of the alley when I materialize. She gasps and jumps back a little as I have startled her. 

"Whoa, dude! What the fuck!" she exclaims.

"Ah-ah-ah," I cluck. "Is that any way for a lady to speak?" I taunt, pushing the hood of my cloak back off of my head. 

She composes herself after staring at me for a few moments. She knows that there is definitely something not quite right about me besides the fact that I just seemed to appear out of thin air. 

My presence, coupled with my abnormally large size and black cloak scream creepy and dangerous to her. Her mind is a jumbled mess of thoughts and her heart is racing. I can smell her fear, but she decides to put on her tough girl act which has apparently worked for her before.

"Mister, I ain't no lady, but I can be whateva you want me ta be for forty bucks," she retorts, flashing her rotten teeth.

I don't respond, looking at her with disgust.

"Oh, alright...twenty five, if you're really hard up. Big guy like you might be fun. I bet you're big like that everywhere, huh?" she throws out there nervously, yet trying to be seductive and utterly failing. Despite her fear and reservations about me, she still has a quota to meet.

She's looking up towards my chest, refusing to look upon my face or my eyes, and it has nothing to do with the fact that she's only a little over five feet tall and I'm seven feet tall right now, even in my semi-human state. She can't look at me because she feels scared and intimidated.

She knows I'm judging her, though she doesn't feel any shame or remorse for who or what she is. I close the distance between us. As I stand before her, I take the tip of my finger and tilt her face up to meet mine.

"You're right. You are not a lady," I tell her forcefully as I look into her eyes. It sickens me to even touch her. Her skin is cold and clammy, and she has snot starting to run out of her nose.

Disgusting!

As I glare upon her hard, worn out face, her eyes finally meet mine. Once she stares into my large, liquid silver orbs, they begin to glow before quickly morphing to red. Her eyes widen imperceptibly and her upper lip begins to tremble. From her thoughts, she knows she's in deep shit.