5 o'clock
All the air from under me escapes. Only for a fraction of a second before the cold and harsh cement comes into contact with my already burning hue back. The stench of blood, vomit, and sweat enters my nose like a tsunami – horrifying and unsuspecting. That huge burly man with darkness clouded over his feature stands above me.
"Get lost slut," he grumbles at me as I am already running out the warehouse doors in nothing but a holy shirt. I trip over beer bottles, game cases and left overs from the night before, clothes scattered everywhere. It truly is the spitting of image of a man cave.
6 o'clock
"Orange. Yellow. Blue. Beautiful," sings the sky.
"Blue. Purple. Yellow. Gross," screams my body as my naked feet are pounding against the concrete pavement.
Come on. I need to find it. Ugh!
The sun is rising like the speed of light. I am running out of time. The only men, women, and children that see me are those on there way to work and that is minimal. Can you imagine what they would say seeing me with blood dripping from my core, barely enough clothing to satisfy the needs of society?
Less than an hour to go...finally! Up ahead I can see houses turning into buildings. Oh those pretty little white fenced houses! How good it must be to have some shelter from the horrors of vulnerability. I cannot believe how jealous I am. I hear the whispers from the world, and how they whisper that tragedies give you perspective and make you a better person but it's a load of bullshit. Tragedies don't give you perspective they make you vengeful and distasteful constantly wishing for something better then what you've got.
There it is!
7 o'clock
The melodic ring as I walk into the old and rustic building can be heard from every wall in the room. It's the same thing every day. It is the same flower walls; it's the same round tables that make you want to barf from the gross Shrek coloured tables and the putrid smell of cigarettes; and the same sign reading "Mamma Di's Kitchen – help yourself." It's the same people and situation every freaking day of my life and I have no control over what happens anymore.
We are all the same in here. All lost souls but I like to think of myself as a little worse off so then I can justify feeling the anger and helplessness that I do. My feet wander to the same little table at the back of the little diner sparing a glance at flower designed wallpaper drooping to the floor. I can feel my feeting almost come out from under me as I finally flop into the old and wooden chair, waiting for the day that I last flop into the chair only to have it shattered on the ground from my tiny weight.
8 o'clock
I need to get my ass into gear. I can see the colourful mould begin to lather itself on this tiny little table that I have sat at since I arrived in this god awful town. A clear reminder of the time that has passed and how little has changed. Counting on a man to fall for my allure and as I think back to these things legs lapped one of another in the old diner chair, hand rested on chin I can't help but wish things would change. Since when did my life change from one of happiness to one where I search for my next prey.
9 o'clock
Clothes. Clothes. Clothes.
I need to find some bloody clothes. How will I find a place to stay and money if I stay sat in this old chair with knotted hair and a holy shirt? Exactly, I won't.
I knock my head against the window, eyes wandering against the world outside this place. The sky is a mesmerising blue that makes you feel loneliness. Loneliness because it's an abyss of colour, making you wonder where it goes. I divert my attention to all the busy people, and one thing is for sure is that there is no mistake where that young girl is going. With her flawless skin and tight gold sequined dress that leaves no room for imagination. She reminds you of a sex goddess that could make every man and women fall to their knees. I found my next prey.
10 o'clock
I have been following the sex goddess for the last hour. Her pace begins to slow down as we approach the dark alley, her head moves side to side at a snail pace, as if expecting someone. My feet get closer and closer to her. This is my last chance.
I wrap one hand slowly around her neck and the other around her mouth, my rough hands creating a sand paper feel between our two bodies. Her muffled screams pierces my ears under the darkness of the alley, the only protection that we have is this massive dumpster. Her arms reach to try and rip me apart from her but I don't let up, instead I strengthen my hold. Soon her body begins to get heavier and her eyes flutter close.
11 o'clock
I strut to the nearest pub in my pretty gold dress and tamed hair. I walk into the building filled with prying men almost ten times the size of me. The smell of drugs fills the air and the bar is filled with dirt and grime. I make my way to the bar, these ridiculously long and perfect heels following my every move, making every man aware of my direction and where I stand. I lean against the bar and suss out who I will find myself with tonight.
Every man in this bar is the same. They all smell like cigarettes and have tacky tattoos that bare no meaning. Their teeth are crooked and their hair is falling out giving clear indication of their age. However, as my smoky blue eyes look for a place to stay in the comfort of these terrifying men I find an anomaly in my equation. I have been coming to this bar every day, or every day that is necessary, for the past 4 years, and none fit his description.
He is clean, with his messy dark hair and perfectly straight teeth. His crisp suit allows no revelation for what tattoos he might hold. His eyes are what catch me, he is the true definition of beauty and danger. Those dangerous hazel eyes lock onto me and I can hear his dazzling shoes clank against the ground abruptly above the music. The sound getting louder and louder as he gets closer and closer.
His arm rests on the bar as his eyes bare into my soul. He wants to know who I am, and why I am here. Why I'm the only female in this bar, that looks like I do, but it is something I cannot answer. His beauty is infuriating. It is so frustrating for wealth to be dripping off him like a second skin whilst I stand here looking for the next man desperate enough to take me to his place, have sex with me, just so I have a place to stay at night.
My eyes pierce into his with distain and jealousy, like a green monster. "What the hell do you want?" I gruffly ask the man. His eyes widened, those beautiful hazel eyes looking more shocked as more minutes pass.
"I want you darling, you're so... what do they say?... sexy?" he gently answers with a hint of some sort of foreign accent that I cannot pinpoint. "Come back to my place? None of these men will please you like I can darling." His hand begins to creep its way to my face and I scream in disgust.
"In your wildest dreams babe," I sarcastically remark. Despite the fact that I need this man, I need someone who will disrespect me in the morning so I can remind myself why this is my life and why I need to suck it up.
"At least come to my place for a drink," he begged me with that irritating accent that rubbed me the wrong way as if his voice had a vice strangling every nerve in my body.
"Fine!" I yell grabbing his strangely huge hand and almost running out of the bar that surrounded the rest of the familiarity in my life.
Everything is the same but what never changes is this feeling that my life is completely different to what I know and I am completely different than who I seem, even to myself.
YOU ARE READING
Please Remember
Werewolf"Can anybody tell me what happened?" "Who am I?" Those are the questions screaming through Dillion Scotts head every day as she deals with life's struggles and the unknown. She knows something happened but cannot remember what. Then Lukas and Alexi...
