Christian Turners' Upward Fall (BXB)

Awful Human Being

When I entered my apartment I was met with deafening silence. My apartment was dark and seemed so unwelcoming. I dropped my bag in the entrance by the shoe rack and let out an exhausted sigh. My fists tightened as I walked towards the living room. My socks glided smoothly across the wooden floors. I gripped my hair tightly in a fit of anger. I got mad way to easily. My silent apartment seemed to fill me with rage. It mocked me, it made fun of all the years I spent with my family as a kid.

I've been living alone for the past two years. You would think I'd be used to it by now. I thought I would grow accustomed to the way silence seemed to tease the lonely.

I made my way to my leather couch and plopped down. I kicked my feet up so my heals could rest gently on the glass table. I dipped my head back to rest on the couch. Once again my hands folded into tight fists. I could feel the formation of half-crescent moons on my palms. Despite the radiating pain coming from my palms I continued to curl my fingers in tightly. It felt oddly good.

My breaths became sharp as I felt the darkness of my apartment surround me. The dark seemed to creep into every crevice and surface in my apartment. It was to quiet. I stood up abruptly and made my way out of my apartment.

I shoved my keys into the lock and heard a soft click as it locked.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" A gruff voice asked. I turned to my left to send Jerry Cougar a glare.

"What's it to you?" I snapped. He rolled his eyes and lifted the blunt to his lips.

"Just concerned for my favorite neighbor" he said. I rolled my eyes at that. While in all honesty Jerry was most likely my favorite neighbor. I mean they were all shit but at least Jerry could crack a joke every now and then.

Jerry's long fingers held the blunt delicately between his lips. His knuckles had scrapes and bruises all over them. Even his fingers looked beat up.

"Do you box?" I ask.

"And wrestle" he says. I just nod. That explains his bruises and scrapes. His face was scruffy though somehow still attractive. He had cropped blonde hair and a shaved stubble. His eyes were blue, though not the kind of blue I was used to. The color was awfully pale.

"What do you even do?" I asked as I walked over to him and leaned against the wall. He shot me a confused look.

"You don't want to know" he says. I frown at that, what could be possibly do?

"Just tell me" I say annoyed. He laughs at that.

"I guess you could say I work at an underground club. I sell prostitutes" he says.

"Your a pimp?" I asked distastefully.

"The proper term is procurer" he says. Once again I'm rolling my eyes.

"If you ever need money I'm sure I have some clients who would love a piece of you" he says jokingly.

"Yeah I'm good" I say. He just laughs and takes the blunt from his lips to hand it over to me. I shake my head.

"You got cigs? I don't do pot" I say. He laughs but nods.

"No difference, both are bad for you right?" He asks, though despite asking he still rummages through his pockets and present me with a cigarette packet. I take it and fish out a cig.

"Lighter?" I ask. His gnarly hands find their back into his pockets. He pulls out a bright pink lighter and I can't help but snort at the sight.

"It's a buddies of mine. A flaming homo" he says. I just nod stiffly. Is being a "flaming homo" a good thing or a bad thing in Jerry's head? I honestly couldn't tell.