There was a starry night sky above me. I was walking down the dark, empty, misty road. Street lights were the only think illuminating my path back to the apartment building. Not one soul was to be seen or heard. It felt like it was the end of the world, and I was the only one left.
I came to The House of Blues tonight in West Hollywood, California, with my best friend, Marié, to see The 1975 perform.
Why am I walking alone, not with her, you ask? After the show, Marié had the brightest idea of going to a bar to get a drink. We had no intention of meeting people and hooking up with them; well, at least I didn't have that intention. Sometimes I worry about her, but can I do? I've tried everything; discouraging her isn't going to work.
Anyway, she met this guy and was going to his place. It was obvious that Marié was drunk and intoxicated. It was even more obvious that the guy she's hooking up with tonight was using her. I guess I wouldn't worry as much about her if she didn't care. She gets attached too easily, and then gets heart-broken.
When she was about to leave, she walked over to where I was sitting and told me she was leaving. I was not going to fight her or talk her out of it. It's her life. She's technically an adult: she turned 18 two months ago. If that's what she wants to do, by all means go ahead. I am not her mother.
What I forgot was that she was still holding my keys to the apartment.
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The wind started to pick up, and the temperature dropping. I thought if instead of walking a few miles down the deserted roads, I should just call a taxi. Maybe it's not the smartest idea to walk alone at three A.M. at night in a short navy dress almost revealing my butt and boobs. And the black, sky-high pumps were Marié's idea. I wanted to wear black ripped skinny jeans with a nice crop top from H&M, but she persistently insisted I wear this: the uniform of a pure prostitute. That's exactly the costume I'm wearing tonight.
I pull out my phone from my purse to call a taxi, thinking it's the best thing to do right now. I feel exposed, and as if I'm being watched. I turn my head quickly around to see if really anyone was there; possibly it was just my creativity and thoughts on the horror that is to come. I see no one, I hear no one. All I hear is the clicking of my heels against the concrete. I turn back and concentrate on my phone.
My idea of calling a taxi was soon crushed when I saw the words "No Service" at the top left of the screen. If I thought having no service was bad enough, I couldn't wait for the excitement of my phone's battery dying since it was at 6%.
Suddenly, I hear a rustling noise come from the bushes on my left. Startled, I stop in place and wonder my eyes to every possible stop and place the noise could've come from.
"Veronika, is that you," I hear the mysterious figure speak, mysterious but familiar.
All I saw was the shadow of a human, the outline of their figure. Male, I could tell by its voice. He slowly started stepping out of the tall, leafy bushes. As he came closer and closer, his face became clearer. Finally, it was no doubt that it was the red-haired teen that lives across the hall from me. Michael is nice and funny, and I know for a fact he has a crush on me, but this makes it 99.7% awkward when we are together. I don't know if he knows Calum, one of my closest friends, told me a few months ago; my guess is no, because he acts the same around me as he did before.
"Michael, what are you doing here?" I'm confused as always, but his appearance here, on a ghost-empty road in the early hours of the day, has me astound.
"Me? What are you doing here? It's three A.M. on a Sunday morning and you're strolling down a potentially good place to be raped in the littlest amount of clothing alone; not that I don't like this clothes on you," he looks me up and down, licking his lips wet, "but, seriously?"
