Rosaline Sinclair is on the run.
After barely escaping with her life, Rosaline flees Los Angeles to the streets of New York City. Desperate for a job, she struggles to stay hidden from an unknown enemy.
Damon Cohen is to be feared.
He works as the r...
And the story commences! Thank you guys for reading and make sure to vote or comment. Hope you guys enjoy the first chapter!
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Why is it so freaking cold?
The harsh New York winds blew past my shivering figure. Teeth chattering, I scurried to my door and pulled out my new key. I struggled fiddling with the stubborn lock, my hands shaky from the cold.
I really hope I don't get frostbite.
After what seemed like a century, the door finally opened. I quickly shut and locked the door behind me, making sure all three locks were secure.I rubbed my hands in a lame attempt to warm them. Even though my apartment was warmer than outside, the heater wasn't efficient. It only brought the room up a few degrees.
Exhausted and cold, I tossed my keys carelessly onto the cracked and dirty counter. I looked around the room and tried not to cringe at the new living arrangements.
The apartment was a disaster.
It was a small place, basically one room for the kitchen and a bed. The bathroom was tiny, almost making me feel like I was in a tiny closet.
The walls were chipped and the carpet was stained and worn. I examined the stains and tilted my head. I wondered what possibly could have gotten stuck on the carpet. Some of it was crusty or molding.
And don't get me started on the large bug I found yesterday. I nearly had a heart attack as I trapped it in a plastic cup to take it outside.
I scrunched my nose in disgust before walking to the bed.
When I rented this apartment, I didn't care about the conditions. The only thing that I cared about was finding a roof to cover my head.
I refused to sleep out on the streets. I didn't know much about New York City, but I knew enough living in Los Angeles that you didn't want to be on the streets alone at night.
Looking at my new home, I almost regretted my decision. But it was too late now. I already had paid rent for the next few weeks and I was too scared to talk to the landlord.
He creeped me out when he was showing me the place, his yellow teeth on full display as he eyed my body in a way I didn't want to think about.
Sitting on the worn down mattress, I rubbed my face in exhaustion and frustration.
I didn't get the job- again.
This was my fifth interview. I had gone to different local stores and restaurants, but each one rejected me. You would think in a big city like this there would be multiple job openings...wrong!
I've pleaded with multiple staff members, but they claimed there were no available jobs. I was getting desperate.
I had gone through multiple newspapers, searching and none of them took. Tears of frustration started to build and I quickly wiped them away. Now was not the time to cry like the baby I was. I would have to do it later tonight.
