So here I am. A runaway just turned 18 and nowhere to go. It all started when my dickward for a dad started abusing me, both verbal and to the later years, physical. My mum couldn't put up with that shit, so she packed up and left
Dad got worse, became more drunk and eventually started to take drugs. So I got fed up, packed up and moved out, to god knows where. All I know is that on my left shoulder is my duffel bag with necessities, right hand has my bikes keys and left hand has my remaining pop tart.
I look over my shoulder and can see an extremely graphitized billboard saying "Santa Carla, murder capitol of the word". Way to be subtle.
As I hop back on my bike, I notice that it's a lot stranger then what I'm used to from downtown New York. People walk around in grungy outfits and it all seems to be ok. If I were to dress like that in Brooklyn, id be labeled as a "freak", "weirdo" or possibly even an "emo"
Yet over here, I'd probably be the weirdo or something. Leaning on my bike with my acid washed and ripped jeans, white Nikes and a regular, off-one-shoulder black shirt. I felt too regular all of a sudden.
I shrugged it off and kick started my Harley again. He was the only man in my life right about now. Having broken up with my boyfriend Dave (for reasons we don't yet need to reveal) I couldn't be bothered for a good enough relationship.
FEW HOURS LATER
Ok, having found a safe spot to park Beast I wandered off on to the board walk. It was starting to turn into dusk so I was getting a little worried. Since I didn't have a place to stay and all.
I walked into a comic store to ask for directions but as I walked in I noticed a small sign
" ROOM UP FOR RENT
ASK FOR RENT PAYMENT INSIDE"
Curious, I walked inside to see that there was a dirty blonde haired male leaning over the counter, obviously reading. He could easily be Rambo junior, I thought. The boy, easily 16, had a red bandana around his head and a plaid cardigan over a rock shirt. Yeesh and I thought I dressed bad.
I scoped around a bit and saw another worker. He had raven hair and was the same age as the other guy. He had some sort of an army get up going on, and dog tags. I noticed I was being watched and inconspicuously I saw Rambo Jr studying me, out of the corner of my eye.
"Something up boys?" I say, smirking
"Just scoping your civilian wardrobe" answers Rambo jr
"Pretty cool huh?"
"For a weirdo" coolly retorts Tags
Damn. I knew I'd get that soon enough...
I just ignore them and carry on shifting through the piles of Batman and Phantom comics.
"Look buddy, if you're looking for the diet frozen-yoghurt bar, it went out of sale last summer" came a voice from behind
I spun around to find out that it was Rambo Jr.
"Okay okay, chillax. I noticed the sign outside and needed a place. I heard that you've got a room up for rent?" I answered
They somewhat eased, subtly when I mentioned this.
"Yeah well, what do you want to know?" asked Tags
"Well, for starters, your names would be pretty swell..." I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes
"I'm Alan, and this is my brother Edgar" he says, as he points to Rambo
"And I am the infamous TigerLilly, so where's Poe?" I joked
They look at me as, faces confused
"The poet, you know? Edgar Alan Poe?" I sigh, exasperated.
"Right" they answer back
Yeesh. This lot obviously doesn't believe in showing their emotions very much do they?
"There's just one thing you need to know before you move in" Edgar said
"I'm moving in?" I squealed
They roll their eyes and Edgar continues with a grave face
"Santa Carla is crawling with vampires"
"Right, vampires" I laughed. "Couldn't you find something more creative? Like, ghosts maybe?"
Their facial expressions don't change and realization starts to dawn
"Oh, you're not joking. Are you?" I whispered
They slowly shake their heads in unison
"Ok. Well I guess I better start keeping a stake under my pillow, nightly" I joked, half-heartedly
"We suggest you do that" replied Alan
"All righty then, ill just… Go get my bags shall I?" leaving without an answer. Wow Santa Carla.
What a place..