Anger. Guilt. Vengeance.
Those are the only emotions I have felt all these years.
Everyday is a battle to keep myself from losing a piece of me...what's left of me, anyway.
One moment, eleven years ago, is all it took.
They should have killed me w...
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Friday nights at Nox are a wet dream for any reveller.
While Nox is one of the finest and the most exclusive nightclubs, located in the heart of New York City for the gentry, Fridays are the only nights it allows the common folk to gain entry without pulling any strings or through connections. Sort of like an open night.
Premium liquor, tasteful music and a wild night to remember–wild enough for the hangover to last for a good few months for anyone and everyone before they go back to the soul-sucking and demanding lives of the white-collar demographic.
The neon blue, green, and red strobe lights illuminate the dark room, moving in sync with the beats of an EDM song, drinks flowing like there is no tomorrow. The dance floor in the middle of the room is slowly filling up, indicating the party is about to reach its peak in an hour or so.
The ice cubes clink against each other when I slide two glasses of whiskey across the counter. A man dressed in a navy blue suit sans jacket picks them up, looking me up and down before returning to his conversation about some kind of investment with a man dressed identically.
I exhale through my nose, muttering cuss words under my breath and hoping no one notices my twitching eye. People here–no, the upper class doesn't take it well when you serve their drink with anything but a flirty smile and suggestive eyes.
I wonder how much of a snob do you have to be to act like people only exist to kiss your ass and do your bidding.
I feel my skin tingle with annoyance for two reasons.
The heavy bass resonating through my entire body, the booming music vibrating off my ribs.
What are they trying to do? Blast the fucking speaker?
The black turtleneck and jeans that are sticking to my body because of the sweltering heat despite the air conditioning and early September chill don't help either.
I really don't want to be here tonight.
Working behind the bar was supposed to be an easy job.
People order, I serve.
That's it.
Just tonight. Endure it and get the job done.
I can feel the shoe bites forming from being on my feet all night and it isn't ending anytime soon.
The reasons for my annoyance crank up a notch when I feel eyes digging into the side of my head.
I look around, trying to find the reason for my crankiness, but come up short.
I hated not knowing things.
I get plenty of blatant looks on an everyday basis, but I have always been hyper-aware of those around me, so I knew who and where they were coming from.
