Scars

Chapter 1

I slithered out of my half battered, one sheet bed and I curled my fingers around my left arm,  gently gripping it as I started slowly walking to my dresser. Damn, my hair looked chaotic today. I didn't usually get my hair this disheveled in the mornings, it's usually straight, because I'm a very light sleeper......What did I do yesterday?

Thoughts from yesterday started to swirl through my mind as I was reminded of the events that happened. The sun was high in the sky, making my forehead gleam with sweat as I entered my cabin-like home.

We're very poor, and being poor I had to get a job at Night's Club, which is a strip club. But even the little money that I'm was bringing in was enough to pay off our bills and taxes for a month, however, it wasn't enough to afford an average house. My home is wooden all around and only has one window that the sun can penetrate through, and that's only located in the kitchen.

"Hi Master," I said as I closed the willow door behind me and walked over to the old, shagged kitchen and started to prepare dinner. Our house interior design is not much of a decor. We have two battered armchairs and a small fireplace in the living room, and in the kitchen we have a small, squared table that seats four people; the sink and one counter is directly across the table.

"There isn't any food left," Master said in a deep strong voice," you need to go get some more groceries.”

I placed a broken plate down on the counter and grabbed coins out of my pocket."I only have fifty cents left," I stuttered to get out," it won't fill us up."

"Then just get food for me," Master said greedily as he shifted his weight from one foot to another.

"But, I need food too," I replied strongly before I put the broken plate back in the half torn cabinet.

"You are my maid, not my girlfriend or wife," Master continued."You get things for me and only me," he added.

"But Master-" I started.

He held up his hand for utter silence."That is all." he walked through our short hallway and into his  bedroom.

I sighed before I sat on one of our shaved armchairs and got out a book and started to read it. I always loved this book, "Wings," I said as I began to read the first chapter again. I finished a paragraph before the book was slammed onto the ground and it might have torn, considering how old it was,  if this was actually hard-as-a-brick wood. I looked up and found my master looking furiously at me with his eyes piercing straight into mine and his left hand holding a little note.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked confused about the whole situation.

"Would you like to explain this?" He slammed the note on my lap and waited for me to read it with his arms crossed and his foot tapping on the not-so-hard wooden floor. I picked up the note and began to read it.

I hate my master, he is such an ass hole. He gives me scars everyday and he forces me to get a job at Night's Club. I hate my life, sometimes I wished I could give him a taste of his own medicine for what he has done to me.

My eyes opened wide as fear stroked  my heart. I looked up and saw that his foot was no longer tapping, his arms were no longer cross, his eyes were no longer furious, and I was no longer on the armchair. I held my hand against the scar that he had just given me as I watched him retreat back into his room, then, and only then did I start to let water stroll down my cheeks very silently.

I let go of my arm and put my everyday clothes on. I didn't bother to brush my hair when I walked out of my room; I grabbed my sweater and head out the door without a bite to eat.

My name is Jackie, I don't have a last name mostly because my parents thought I didn't deserve to be their daughter, that's why they shipped me over to my boyfriend's house, not wanting to have another care for or what happens to me. I have wavy brunette hair that's always in a mess, so I whip it up into a messy bun, atleast no one will know the difference. 

I walked down the street searching for Starbucks. My sweater wasn't doing much for sixty-one degrees, but it's all I had. I walked by a store and I gasped at the sight of this one car. It was neon blue, 2012 Porsche Turbo 911. I could've bought that car right there, right then, but there was only one problem, it was  a model car and it was in a car store. I would never get that car.... It was probably one of a kind.......wait a minute. What if I just stole it? Then I could take it home and sell it for big money. But first, I'd have to get it through the glass.... Perfect. I walked up to the store and read the sign.

Open: Weekdays and Saturdays 12:00pm -12:00am.

Closed: Sundays

That's perfect, since I got off from work at nine and today was Saturday, then I could have two hours of planning. I rubbed my arms from the excitement and the thrill of it all, but soon I grew terribly cold. It was getting kind of chilly out here, I better get some coffee. I walked over to Starbucks and picked a seat to sit in. I couldn't believe I was actually going to be rich.

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The place wasn’t quite full, but nor was it empty. Only a few people were seated at multiple tables, but still Starbucks was almost empty. I wondered why, could it be for their low quality coffee or cappuccinos? Now matter, as long as their coffee is hot and satisfying, then I could really careless about their customer service.  I asked the waiter for a cup of Joe and he nodded his head while he prepared my coffee. I realized stealing was a very bad idea. They’re most likely going to track me down and send me to jail. I might as well just stick to being poor. At the same time though,  I noticed that some of my scars were showing, so I pulled the sleeve of my sweater down, but my sweater is too small for me, but I managed. The waiter came back with my coffee and he slid the cup over to my hands, but I didn't pick it up.

"Is there something wrong?" He asked, with curiosity swarming around in his head.

"No, it's just that it’s hot," I said obviously lying, but he seemed to not notice or he just disregarded it.

He didn't say a word; he just went in the back. When he returned, he was caring a small napkin. He stretched it out to me, and I reached out for it. That's when my sleeve pulled up and most of the scars on my arm were now visible; he looked at my scars before he said anything.

"What's that?" He asked as he touched one of them with his index finger.

"Nothing!" I reassured him as I pulled my sleeve down and put my arms under the counter.

"Doesn't look like nothing,"  He prodded as he crossed his arms.

"Ok, I just scraped my arm on something lately," I said with a slight twitched in my voice.

"To cause one, then yes, that's logical," He said logically and continued," but to cause all of those.... What's going on?"

"I'm very clumsy," I replied while I slightly smiled. Why is this dude all over my case?

"Well, you're obviously lying." He smiled as if he's some kind of genius.

"I'm not lying!" I almost yelled defensively.

I attracted a lot of attention, and all he did was smirk. He must like a lot of attention, but I don’t, so I hopped out of my seat and started to button my sweater.

"Oh come on," He urged with a hint of laughter in his voice, "I was just joking"

I left without saying another word to his ass, seriously he didn't know anything about me. My thoughts seem to fade away from my head as a heavy cold chill entered my body. If only I had a heavy coat for this kind of weather. I walked on the sidewalk until I saw my house, and I stopped abruptely at a short distance before I trekked inside. I look around just to see if anybody was following me, and I let out a sigh once no one popped out of the shadows as smoke follows it.

"Back to Hell," I mumbled to myself.