The Barber Shop

Chapter 1

Warmth radiates from the plush blanket cocooned around my body. My eyes remain shut as my alarm goes off from my night stand. I listen to the seemingly never ending beeping of the device, I'm not ready to face reality. I let worries plague my mind as dreams of beaches in Barcelona turn into the dying palm plant in the corner of my room. I let my hand fall from the white blanket and onto the hard surface of my night stand. I ungracefully pat my hand until I find the familiar metal. The alarm is turned off and I huff in annoyance. My feet break the warm seal of my blanket and I place them on the floor. The hardwood welcomes my calloused feet as I begin to stand. My legs shake beneath me as I stretch my spine. Disks pop and settle back into their rightful place. I pull myself into my restroom. My hands rest on the cool porcelain I watch them curl around it, refusing to meet my own eyes in the mirror just yet. I know that looking into the mirror will tear me away from the last tendrils of sleep and throw me into harsh reality. Slowly my gaze pulls from the sink to the wall, and finally I see my emerald eyes staring back at me. Red lines weaving their way around them down meeting paths of black tears staining down my cheeks from the cheap mascara I wore last night. This is me, this is all I will ever be.

Newspapers tease my ankles as I walk down the busy street in the outskirts of London. My destination is still a good three miles or so away. My car finally bit the dust a month ago so at this point my only option is to use the transportation I was born with. I pass by so many unfamiliar faces that they start to meld into one massive scowling face.Moms pull their children into their bodies when they pass me, not wanting to expose them to how awful the real world is quite yet. I don't blame them honestly, I would scour and look down on me if I were in their position. My eyes are hollowed in and deep set bruises trace my ever prominent cheekbones. My clothes are frayed along the edges, the color uncertain as they have worn into muddled browns and greys with overuse. I definitely look like someone who got mixed in with the wrong crowd, and they aren't wrong. This wasn't by choice, I never wanted this. These thoughts always seem to be passing in my mind when I pull the rusted metal handle of the convenience store. Its glass window overshadowed by the massive corporations to its right and left. Their reflective paneling is impressive to say they least. I hear the bell chime as my presence is made aware to those currently browsing the aisles. Mr.Chiu sits at the front counter, must be Mrs.Chius day off. The sweet Chinese man looks up at me and sends me the same pitiful grimace as always then goes back to looking at his thumbs, too afraid to move. I make my way to the back of the store, the smell of Clorox spray getting increasingly stronger as I make my way to the employees only door. It's oddly placed at the end of a very long hallway with its tiles pulling up at the edges and questionable stains and streaks lining the walls. I open the door just enough to slip in and hear the small click as it relatches back into place. My boss sits with his back to me facing a wall of screens, each one depicting a different scene. Some are of violent encounters and others while others simply show an empty alleyway. Nearly every back corner and alley in London is displayed somewhere hidden in the wall. I let a small breath pass my lips to let the man know I am here without disturbing anything he might be doing. He must have heard me as he slowly peels his eyes from the screen to face me. The leather of his jacket rubbing awkwardly on the back of his chair. His face is clean and freshly shaved, and his eyes bright like that of a man seeing the woman he loves on his wedding day. He's looks to be a kind man in his late twenties, someone you can see going home to a white picket fence and giving his son a hug as he walks in the door. But that is not who this man is, this is Jason Millikan.

I'm once again following the cracks in the concrete with my eyes, too afraid to look up and meet the eyes of the passing strangers and I move toward my destination. The plastic bag weighing almost as heavily in my pocket as the gun in the waist of my jeans. It's cool metal pressing along my skin, I move awkwardly down the street afraid it will snag and go off. Rule number one of Viceroi is no safety allowed. I feel the gun shift as I turn down a poorly lit alleyway a man already at the end of it facing my direction and looking right at me. As I move closer his lip pulls on one side letting the yellow stained teeth peek through. I stop nearly five feet away from him, making the mans smirk grow wider. "Come on darling I don't bite." I can smell his foul breath from here making it just that much harder for me to step a little closer in his direction. " now darling don't be so coy, you know Freddie won't harm you." His voice is lined with sarcasm knowing our past. "Let's just get this over with" I mumble in his direction while closing the gap between us. His hand immediately goes into my back pocket as our lips meet. He removes the bag and a new pressure is now weighing it down. He pulls his face from mine and a trail of saliva pulls from between our lips. " If you want a little extra to keep we can have this head in another direction" he bites his cracked lip letting the skin crack beneath it. I go back and forth in my mind knowing what he's implying. His head tilts questioning once more. I put my hand in his letting him know my decision and letting him direct me to somewhere more private.