runaway numb hearts
"Who are you… the poetic chick from the coffeehouse, the chemistry geek from school, or the whore shaking her ass at the strip joint," he asked as pale blue eyes tried to break me. I can't help but smile as I turn my face from him, "All of the above…"
0.00 prologue
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day: november 016 … time: 4:25PM
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Drip.
Drop.Drip.
Drop.
The sound echoes in my ears. It's raining outside. It rains a lot here in Ipswich, Massachusetts.
Drip.
Drop.Drip.
Drop.
The rain has such a soothing pattern… so peaceful, so serene, so…
"Oh baby girl… you're so tight!"
Opps… almost forgot about him. The large man hovering over me, thrusting his erection in and out of me.
Lust.
Raging Lust.
That's what drives him.
One sided lust… and desire. In my mind – in this moment – there is only one thing that exists… the rain.
Drip.
Drop.Drip.
Drop.
I tend to do that a lot… get lost in the rain. Just the mere sound of it transports me. And like I said it rains a lot here…
I wish I could get lost.
Literally.
Anywhere.
Just as long as I was away from this place, it would all be fine.
Anyplace.
Any get away would be better than this…
Lying on this filthy bed with this stranger. With this man old enough to be my father. Worse yet… even perhaps old enough to be my grandfather. If the wrinkled skin and crow eyes were any indication.
The grip he holds on my hips tighten as he hammers away inside me.
Huff.
Gasp.
Huff.
Huff.
Gasp.
Pathetic. He can hardly breath. Yet he insists on plunging himself into me. He is panting away. His saggy hairy chest rising and falling.
Oh what a prize…
What a prize he must be.
What a lucky wife he must have.
Wife… Yes he has a wife. They always do. It never stops me... This is a give and take. A want and a need. I have what he wants. He has what I need. The little housewife never plays a role in the equation.
Olive green eyes shift from the wrinkled face to the clock on the nightstand. It's almost five o'clock. I'm going to be late for work. Yes… work. This isn't my job. This is… I haven't decided yet.
Whatever. He has to hurry up - his hour is almost up. I guess its up to me to speed him up. I close my eyes. Bite my lip. On command my lower muscles, which are wrapped around him, tighten their grip. Tighter and tighter with each one of his thrusts.
He rolls his eyes to the back of his head. His fingers pressing deeper into my skin. He's close. In seconds he starts mouthing off a series of grunts accompanied by curses… Just like every man before he comes.
I on the other hand feel nothing. Nothing at all. It's as if my body has no soul. I have conditioned myself to be this way. It is a rare exception I find release from these… encounters.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Just as the alarm goes off, he screams out - thrusting himself one last time before moving to lie down beside me.
His hour is complete and so is my part of this… exchange.
Finally. The last one until tonight. It's tiring having to fake it. Having to lie there. Having them play with me like a rag doll. But this is a two way game. It's my turn to collect now.
Grabbing his pants from off the floor, I quickly locate and pull out his wallet. Leather wallet with his initials on it – nothing less for the higher class of course. But that's not important – that only confirms my need of him. I pull out the green bills – they total 300 hundred. Tossing that aside, I reach into the pockets from his pants. There are smaller bills of course… twenty… no twenty-two and a quarter. 322.25… not bad – plus the hundred fifty I collected prior to fucking him.
"Rain baby… that was the best," he groans in a lusty voice.
Rain.
That's my call girl name. Ironic isn't it… something so pure tainted by my very essence.
Not bothering to speak to him, I grab my duffle bag from the floor and head inside the bathroom. Closing the door behind me of course.
Sweat.
Sex.
Sawdust.
That is the mixed aroma drenched in to my skin.
No – the sawdust isn't from anything kinky. That is just how he smells… like sawdust.
Standing in front of the mirror above the sink I don't recognize the reflection. It's me but it's not. More like a different version of myself … a classless useless version. Pale white skin, dyed chapped lips, dirty blond hair … but what stands out most are those eyes staring back. Those olive green eyes.
In a swift movement I remove the blond hair. Next up the eyes... Taking out my compact from my duffle bag I carefully remove the olive green eyes.
Ah yes… there I am. Auburn hair and grey eyes. There I am… Aden Stringer.
Sigh.
Dumping my bag on the floor, I turn the water on in the shower and step inside. The water is cold. Not that I mind… no… I like it when it's cold. Too bad I can't still in long – it is just a quick rinse. As soon as I'm in I'm out and into my clothes - my black jeans with my pink and white tank top.
I apply my makeup just like any seventeen year old girl. But I'm not… like any girl my own age.
Tainted.
Corrupted.
Perhaps even… the devil's living bride…
This needs to stop. Not the sex with strangers' part but the reminiscing going around in my head. At least for now. Otherwise I'm going to be late for work… or perhaps it is best said as my other life. Yes… that does seem more appropriate – me having a double life.
I shake my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts as I sling the duffle bag over my shoulder and walk out the bathroom.
As I step out I notice he is still on the bed. Not moving but, unfortunately, not dead either. I roll my grey eyes at his still form… no I roll my eyes at this situation. Reaching into my duffle bag I pull out a white card. My business card. A simple white card with red letters in the center spelling X.O.X.O and then my phone number below it. Setting it on the table by the door I'm done here for tonight.
Walking out of the dumpy motel I immediately spot my car. The only car on the side of the motel. My 1989 black Buick Electra.
The special prize.
The apple in my eye.
The only thing that is mine.
It's old. It's rundown. It's dented and has a few things broken… It's just like me… Doesn't matter though. As long as it takes me where I need to go. And right now I need to go to the coffee house downtown. No, not for a cup of joe. That's where I work.
It's a good job.
It's nice.
It's quiet.
It's average.
Which is why I need it. After all Aden Stringer is an average schoolgirl with an average after school job.
The ride to the coffeehouse is quiet… well quiet in the sense that I'm not thinking anymore. I'm just listening… listening to the lyrics pouring out of the speakers of my car. The sounds create other lyrics in my head. My very own lyrics to the beat. Every happy implication turned around into one of utter dejection.
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open up just a little
take a peek inside
the little demon in me
wanting to eat you alive
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time: 5:05PM
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By the time I park my car in front of the coffeehouse I have millions of words swimming in my head in dire need to be written down.
As I sit down behind the counter I can hear my coworkers talk among themselves. Customers come in and out. All the while I'm sitting there, notebook in one hand… pen in the other. Writing… pouring my soul onto paper. The minutes turn to hours as they fly by quickly. Coworkers head home, as I am the only one left when closing time comes around. Only a couple minutes left… but I hardly notice… I'm too wrapped up in my fantasy world…
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do you hear me…
can you see me…
the little demon in me…
wanting to see you bleed…
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time: 7:54PM
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Looking at my watch the digital clock flashes 7:54 once before advancing to 7:55. As if like clockwork I hear the bells on the door chirm as someone walks inside. Without looking up I know who it is.
Enter the blond pretty boy.
Mysterious blond boy.
Pretty boy with devilish smile.
I have no idea who he is… Besides an advert coffee drinker.
He steps up to the counter. Smirk in place. "Coffee… black," he says… the sound of his voice deep… he sounds careless… how envious. Wish I could be careless. I notice him glace down at my notebook but he doesn't say a word – he just takes a sit behind the counter as I serve his coffee.
My coworkers say he only comes in during my shifts at night.
Always at the same time.
Like clockwork.
7:55PM.
I am always the only one here at this time. He always orders the same thing. Never says anything else. And so I hand him the cup of steaming hot black coffee. In silence he drinks it while I continue my writing… my endless writing of dark words about empty souls.
Time passes by so quickly when I'm alone. But with him sitting there… time seems to have passed by turtle pace.
Like all good things… this has come to an end… and soon enough I see him stand.
8:00PM.
"Thanks for the coffee… Aden…"
Grey eyes opened wide, I look up from my notebook.
My name… how did he…
Wait… my name tag of course…
Don't I feel stupid… I guess it can be seen on my face because he smirks at me. Clearly amused by my previous confused expression.
Still…
The way he said my name…
The sound of it rolling off his tongue…
I decided right then and there… this boy… he could say my name anytime… even though I didn't know his…
"Come back… anytime." I tell him, full sultry in my voice.
He smiles as he turns away. That smile… that devilish smile this strange blond boy wonder seems to have… If only for a second, I saw it… in his smile… hidden in that devilish smile… it's the hint of trouble. This boy reeks of trouble…
It's a good thing I like trouble…
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Hello! I hope you've enjoyed my bizarrely written new fic runaway numb hearts. This fic is way off from anything I have written in the past – from the writing style to my original character. It's angsty, kind of dark; it's my exact mood right now. I call this my not-thinking fic meaning I have no plot in mind and will not think of when … just wing it as I go. Not sure if it will work out but I just need a break from my other fics.
This is the first fic I'm doing in first person and I will be altering point of views… hope you don't mind… oh and a picture of Aden can be seen in my profile…
Anyway… READ AND REVIEW! All reviewers get a special sneak peak to the next chapter.