My blonde locks rubbed against my back as I unloaded four heavy boxes from my car. It's funny how ones entire existence could fit inside such a small amount of space, and how I could just fit my life into these boxes and move away from everything and everyone I loved and feared. I guess at seventeen it seems rushed moving out on my own, but I justify such as act using my passion. Manhattan is one of the busiest and bustling cities on earth. For a girl that loves serenity, it's not an ideal match. With the large population come large amounts of pollution, this coincidently results in endangered species. The Karner blue butterfly is dying, and New York is to blame. I was sent here to research this species for six months, and as much as I hate Manhattan, I love these little creatures that flutter around the streets, so oblivious of the world around them.
I unloaded the last box out of the boot of my rusted old car, firmly slamming the door shut. The lower east side isn't so bad, I thought to myself as I walked up the creaking stairs to my new loft. I fiddled around with the keys as they chimed like bells in the wind until I finally found the one that would open the doors to my new life. The door swang open and I slowly stepped onto the vintage wooden floorboards. The smell of wood filled the air. The apartment had a rustic feel, the walls were old brick which contrasted well with the modern furniture that filled the room. I sat the box down and peered over the small apartment I had agreed to live in for the next six months. I sprawled across the white sheets on my bed as my heart beat in sync with the mayhem of Manhattan right outside my bedroom window.
Living on my own was a terrifying thought that had haunted me for weeks. I'd come into a city where I didn't know a single soul and just expected that I could unpack my life into draws that were once somebody else's and everything would be okay. I felt stupid, naïve and too young to realise what I was doing. It was too late to turn back. I had committed myself to saving these, fairy like creatures from being wiped off the earth forever, and I intended to stick with it.
I sat the last item of my last box on my bedside table. It was a picture of me and my two best friends at the lake in Connecticut. Part of me won't miss Connecticut at all, but the people there will remain in my heart always. Done, I sighed to myself in satisfactory. I glanced outside my window and embraced unique beauty of the lively city beneath the stunning sunset, and accepted that this would be my view of the world every night.
I scurried down the stairs and stepped outside to buy dinner with the little cash I had in my wallet. I gazed across the road and saw a vintage fifties café that filled me with immense joy just with one look. It reminded me of a little café I used to go to back home, and it instantly arose a smile on my face. I strided inside looking at the chequered tiles beneath my feet and sat at a little red booth facing the busy street. A brown eyed beauty, dressed in a spunky uniform bought me comfort in a cup and I picked up the local newspaper, intending to be let in on all the Manhattan gossip. On the front cover was a handsome, smug man. It seemed as if he was everywhere, that he owned half of Manhattan. The article seemed to be, yet another superficial scandal however I continued to read it, completely numbing my mind. Butterflies ascended in my stomach as the words danger caught my attention. I began to read more intently. This man, Charles Bass was a danger to the environment. He is not only filthy rich, but he is also remorseless at the origin his income is from. He wipes of forests, and builds unnecessary edifices to satisfy his bank account. Mercilessly endangers animals so he can buy more expensive positions he probably already has. My guts churned at the thought of this monster living in the same city as I was. I thumped the paper back into its place and took another sip out of my coffee mug, watching the sunset outside the window.
A limousine halted out the front of my comfy little diner, the flags swaying in the breeze. The driver shuffled around and opened the door for the gentleman inside. He swung his legs around, Italian leather boots touching the pavement. He didn't look anywhere specific, but his head twisted in my direction. It was the man out of the paper. The butterflies flew around my stomach again as the man's brooding stare studies his surroundings. He adjusted his suit and confidently strutted down the street. All I could wonder is what Chuck Bass was doing in The Lower East Side.