"Six dollars, and six cents." I sighed in a bored fashion. I looked back down at my guitar case, and spotted the neglected and crumbled up green paper; a dollar bill. "Seven." I corrected my previous number, then I stuffed the money into my jean pocket. The pants I wore, were my only pair. They were worn down, with random rips in them. They were my favorite pair ever. I wouldn't give them up for the world.
I inhaled the last drag of my cigarette and then chucked the useless butt at the ground without any negative feeling toward that being my last cigarette. I packed my guitar into the bag like case; cautiously laying it upon her brother, Riley; My brother's base. His red, unknown name, one of a kind, base guitar. The guitar I was putting away from my own Les Paul. The base's name was Riley, because I had named him Riley, after my brother, though it's original name was Dansin. I zipped up the case and stood up. I stretched my hands up toward the sky, whimpered a little as my back cracked when I leaned back; that's when the rain started to drizzle. I looked up at the sky, there was no wind so the rain came straight down. Then my eyes wandered down to the guitar case, I muttered a thanks to Karma for my guitar case being water proof. I was thankful I had some form of security in my life somewhere, but I couldn't say the same about my sweater as it slowly began to absorb the droplets of water that hit me. I put the guitar strap around my shoulder, and looked around decided where to walk too.
The gas station was about a good seven blocks away, and in the short amount of time it took for me to arrive there, I was soaked. My sopping wet, bold ebony hair clung in chunks to my slightly oddly pale face. People often mistake me of looking, rather sick, due to my rather pale complexion, and the bags under my eyes, apparently my eyes looked vacant. I couldn't help it though, I mean, how fantastic should I look if I'm sleeping at the hard wooden park bench, or subway seats. I had two eyes that were different colors, my right eye was a dull blue, and my left eyes matched the exact amount of dullness, except it was a green. Though they were rarely seen past my bangs that were always in my face. My hair was choppy and shoulder length, with messy looking, with random layers. The red ribbon was in my hair, like usual, but not holding my hair back as was the original purpose.
I sighed heavily, a bit annoyed by the way the cashier eyed me the moment I walked into the little convenient store. As I was walking down an isle, I looked over my shoulder and meet eyes with him. He held a hard stare against my apathetic one, and I turned away as someone else entered the store. I browsed threw the chips and candy isle, his eyes fixed on my fingers as he watched very carefully as I picked up a candy bar and looked at me for a few moments. I placed it back in the same exact spot I had gotten it from. After a few minutes of browsing, I grew sick and tired of his constant watch over me, it was the fifth time I was in there that week, I mean, what did I do to make him so convinced I was a thief? I gritted my teeth, his lack of ANY trust made a great deal of anger swell within me. My eyes looked to my side to look out the window. The rain hadn't let up any, and I didn't feel like getting drenched again. I watched the rain splash off the ground, creating a mist up a few feet; illuminating my reflection in the window. I blew at my bangs, again in a bored fashion. Boredom was what I mainly felt most of the time. I saw the little black, scratchy, jagged looking creature dance in the rain on the empty street. That thing followed me around, sometimes it looked like a cat, and sometimes it looked like a dog. I'm not sure what it was, but it's been more loyal to me then most friends. I think it lacked the ability to help me with anything, but it never left me. Always, it's been there. Everyone else who saw it, thought it was a freaky looking cat, and sometimes only I could see it. The relationship between me and the 'demon' was a love/hate thing.
I looked down at the magazines in front of me, and picked up a copy of Dazed And Confused one, and began to casually flip threw it.
"You have to buy them before you read." The cashier called flatly, smiling inwardly that he finally had something to yell at me for. He crossed his chuddy, hairy arms, over his pudgy chest, and upon his bulging gut. His boring brown eyes looked ten times larger, and like they were pressed right up against his, perfect circle glasses. His hair was a gray/brown color, more than obvious combed over to the left. I stared at the top of his shiny head for a moment, wondering if he ever thought about waxing it. His pudgy little finger pointed at the magazine still in my hands.
I threw it back at the rack, with such force it bounced off the other magazines and then to the floor. A few mindless magazines followed the actions of their comrade and fell from the rack as well. I just looked out the window blankly, concentrating on Delex, the little shadow demon thing playing in the rain. The way it moved about freely, dancing in the rain signified that no one but me could see him today. I took a few unnoticeable deep breaths to calm my sudden, explosive, random anger and urges. Getting the policed called on me was something I could no afford.
Once I thought the cashier was safe, I approached the counter. He leaned back a bit, I could tell he sensed my anger, almost alimenting off of me.
"One pack of Marlboro Reds." I growled, reaching into my pocket for the money.
"I.D." He said sharply with a smug look, not even giving me a chance to reach my money. His eyes held some sort of mask that read, 'I'm not scared of some little girl'.
I gritted my teeth, and tried to stay calm. From the corner of my eye I seen Delex pressed his charcoal black faces against the glass; watching me curiously, waiting to see me angry again. I sighed, I didn't have an I.D. I didn't have anything besides the clothes on my back, and the two guitars. I had lost everything in that life eating fire. I knew I was a bit shorter than most girls my age, but I knew for a fact it wasn't by much. My hands balled themselves into fists, and I was ready to punch him square in the face' mainly aiming to brake his glasses that for some reason bothered me so much.
"Uhm, she's buying those for me actually."
A bit surprised, I looked over at the tall, blue haired man beside me. He towered over me maybe a good foot. His eyes were badly bruised, making his eyes look like endless holes, that seemed to easy to get lost in. His hair was untidy, and he had a white baseball cap places backwards on his head; some of his azure blue hair stuck out from the little patch on the back of the hat. He was a very thin man, lanky, that's the word. I could smell cigarette smoke just from standing next to him, and just that little smell was able to calm my nerves. His shoulders were wet too, he wasn't wearing a jacket, like me.
"Hi." He greeted kindly, his voice was a bit peaceful.
"Hey." I replied in a quiet, nervous-like voice which wasn't like me at all. I quickly turned away.
The cashier looked at the man, and knew he was over eighteen and decided not to ask this man, obviously capable of beat the shit out of the cashier, for an I.D. He just rung up the price, and I was about to place a five down but the stranger already threw a five down. I looked at him, wanting to thank him but not knowing how. I was always a stubborn kid. So I just remained quiet.
"Here you go, sir." The cashier held the smokes to the man.
I swiped them from his hand and my eyes meet with the stranger man's. I felt a weird feeling swirling within me. He was a nice, generous man I could tell.
"Thank you. A lot." I whispered appreciatively.
My instinct told me to get away from him. With a few more moments of eye contact, I walked out of the gas station, right into the pouring rain. My heart was pounding, and I had no idea why. I lit a cigarette to help calm my shaking nerves. There was something about the man that made me feeling something. I decided it would be best not to wonder about it too long, so I decided right then I'd go to my favorite coffee shop. It was called Electric Fetus; it was cheap, and the for the price of the food it didn't taste half bad. They also held live performances every now and then, and also sold records. It was a great place to think, and the atmosphere it held was relieving and welcoming. The lighting was dim, with walls of a dark soft purple, black lining and black ceiling fans.