godly sin ¦ Ongoing

one. Dead

~•~

GODDAMNED renaissance.

Who in the World makes renaissance music their alarm? Apparently the passed out cold, College guy beside me, who's drooling shamelessly in his sleep.

As if waking up with a hangover isn't torture enough, I had to wake up to this boring headache of a song.

I wonder why people love it, anyway.

By the way, I have to focus because he can't see me by the time he wakes up because that just screws everything up. Personal words would be exchanged, then he'd want morning sex, maybe.

We might even end up going out on a date — yuck. Not me.

I'm not a serious relationship type of person, and that is not something my parents are proud of. At all.

"Omaira settle for one, please." My mom would plead.

"Your recklessness would be the death of you, someday." My dad would spit in my face. With his usual disappointment ridden expression he always wore anytime he beheld me.

The thing is, nobody can change me. Nobody can be capable of fixing my broken insides, and the unquenchable fire of freedom that riles me up with it's flames.

Settling down is stress, and Omaira doesn't do stress.

I quickly check the time, which is reading 6:00AM. Okay, great, I should be whining and crying and probably tossing pillows at nothing because it's way too early to be awake on a Monday morning, with a hangover, after a night of terrible sex.

But I am used to this life already, and I don't plan on stopping anytime soon. Life's too free to do that.

Groaning and kicking the sheets off my semi nude form, I get up from the bed with a hand on my throbbing head, looking for my panty.

"Why do you guys always take off on me?" I complain. "Not this time, I'm finding you, and I'm not leaving without you panty, I am not!"

After forever of endless searching, I give up and decide to pull down my thigh hugging, sparkly gold mini gown and exit the place before the tossing stranger with a useless equipment wakes up.

Tiptoeing with care and unbuckled heels, I walk down the hallway of what seems to be a frat house. Suddenly, I remember my flight to Amsterdam which would be leaving by 8AM.

"Shit! My flight, what's the time?" I quickly get my iPhone out of my purse and switch it on, walking hastily without watching where I am going.

"God please, let it still be six, please please please." I chant while looking at my phone while it boots.

It finishes booting and there the time is, displayed for me to see and putting a smile on my face – 6:42AM. I can make it.

As my grin widens, I take a wrong step and my foot sinks down suddenly, causing my whole body to follow suit after my ankle is twisted.

Before I could register the sharp pain, I am being tumbled down a flight of stairs. Breaks and cracks are heard oozing from my body and pain can't even describe how I am feeling.