Who am I?

chapter 1

I've always felt lonely. The cold embracing my pale skin, kissing with such care the feeling of sadness on me. My heart,  heavier than everything, seemed filled with only pain. Truth,e is it got heavy from the emptiness, the nothingness. Showing any signs of feelings was hard for me, so much that even tears had stopped flooding from my eyes years ago. I laughed at my own misery. It seemed like I had no plan for this life, and no one wanted my happiness. Nobody wanted me to feel the warmth that love could offer, or even the slight warmth of tears. It was decided that I'd always be cold and incomplete.

I wouldn't say I was odd, even if others seemed to think so. I, personally, just grew a disliking to people. I always thought I never was taught to let my walls down, let my trust, myself, to anyone else, like a pearl that always needed a sort of protection, Ivory under the constant threat of being broken, and wrapped up in coats and coats of paper. But Deep down I knew I wasn't nor fragile or broken, just reserved and always cool headed. That seemed to freak most people out, like it wasn't a humane thing.

I was always like that, for as far as I could remember in the shatters of my memories. Or, to be more exact, if it hadn't always been this way, I couldn't remember. A car accident caused me to have 'temporary amnesia' when I was barely 17. Having to learn how to talk again, walk, live. That broke my parents hopes for my future; a glorious doctor, that would take on the family's legacy. The temporary amnesia never broke, all before the wake in the cold white room was a complete mystery to me. I lost more and more hope, so did my parents. Their straight-A girl seemed to have been switch by this failure struggling with human relations. I couldn't blame them, it was only normal, after almost nine years, no one could still have faith in me. That without mentioning I never became what they intended me to. Instead I became a miserable artist; from writing to painting.

Slowly sitting down on my sofa, wrapping myself in a wool blanket, sipping bits of my beer, sighing at my own thoughts. I was near my 26th birthday, alone in a small apartment. Of course I had friends, everyone did. Only, I did not trust them very much. Most of them were married and ready to have kid, or cheating their husband. That did not help me feeling the trust on them, betting that if they could they would gladly betray me.

My thoughts kept going that way for a few more minutes, looking down into the void I created to myself, before I was disturbed by a single buzzing noise from my table.

'Lacy, come down to the bar, Hot guys in view' 

Smiling softly at my phone, i texted back.

  Itska was a coworker trying is hard to know me, get me out there, prove the village I was something more than just me. 

I looked out at the small church owned by her parents. they had been more than kind to me after my accident, tried to convert me, sadly enough for them I never truly became a believer. I still attended most of the messes and ceremonies, since most of the village was religious. 

'Can't, work.' I typed easily on the smooth surface

'I'm there in three minutes, be ready ;)' was her immediate answer.

I sigh loudly. 

I knew there was no way to talk my way out of this, she'd take me and not let me go until I had talked to at least a few guys.

Quickly tying my hair in a pony, I looked in the mirror, seeing a small silhouette in a grey, long sleeved V-neck and black skinny jeans. It was a look I considered acceptable, after all, I wasn't there to flirt or anything, and I could use Vodka and whisky.

Making my way outside,I told the lovely couple. my landlords, I'd be back late, getting a smile back, for only when I turned my back, see their reflection kissing the cross around their neck. I  remind myself that I was practically considered a witch by most of the villagers. I had lost of rumors on my back, at it made them have growing suspicions on me because I didn't try to change them.