CHAPTER1-WhenItCuts
Lonely Hearts Tavern was a place of sadness. Many years ago, it had been the most popular bar in town. Then,
after the war, the rest of the town was demolished. The soldiers kept the tavern standing, if only because it had
the best drinks within 500 miles. As of now, it had the only drinks within 500 miles.
Sara Taylor stood outside, back to the door, wind blowing her soft blonde hair every-which way. Cold tears
stood out on her pale cheeks, slowly drifting their way down her liquid paper face. This place was heaven for
many.
It was Hell for her.
The outside of the tavern was solid concrete. No bricks, no wood, no paint. Just hard, scratchy, grey stone, contrasting strongly with the light-brown sand below it. A poor excuse for a sign half-hung, half-swung from
the gutters on top.
The thing that stood out, though, was the door. Bright red. Like a drop of blood in a sea of gravel. About 3 years
ago, some dumbass had carved 'LeAve THiS placE' on the front. Right at eye level, too. And if that didn't scare
the customers away, the bullet holes would.
Anyway, let's get back to the girl, shall we?
Sara's life was a wreck. 2 years ago, a man had come to this bar asking for a bottle of whiskey. Being the bartender, she happily obliged. Now, she wished with all her broken mind that she hadn't.
He said his name was Jon. But the folks at the bar had called him 'Dragon'. To this day, she never knew why. It drove him crazy.
One fateful night, everything exploded in her face. It was maybe... a half a year after he had first appeared at
the bar. She had just finished the night, and was making her way up to her room on the top floor. Then the door opened.
At first she didn't notice him, just shrugging it off as the wind. But, maybe it was instinct, maybe it was Ka like the wind, she felt an uncontrollable urge to stop and look. And so she did.
And what she saw scared the fuck out of her.
Jon was lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. He had never made a sound. He never even screamed
for her. And as she rushed to help him, she found out why.
He had a hole the size of a sand dollar in his neck. And I don't mean a gash, or a deep fleshwound. A hole. A
hollow hole. She could see through his throat.
Immediately, and without a word, she picked him off the ground, sitting him at the closest table. She ran behind
the bar to find some bandages. When she returned, he was crying. But no, he wasn't crying. He was bleeding out
of his eyes. But no... he was crying. He was crying crimson tears of sorrow.
She finished wrapping his neck in bandages. She placed her arms around his waist. She carried him up to her bedroom. She dropped him on the bed(He was barely concious from all the pain).
Without a word, she stripped herself of her clothing. That night, they laid together.
The next morning, she found him dead at the bar, where he'd always said he wanted to die.
Since that night, her life had been shit. Thoughts of what could have been plagued her mind every waking
moment of her pathetic existence. Noone was left to protect her(He considered that his job; he never said why),
and so she was little more than a helpless whore.
But all that, was about to change. Maybe not for the better, but it would change.
Lonely Hearts Tavern was a place of sadness. Many years ago, it had been the most popular bar in town. Then,
after the war, the rest of the town was demolished. The soldiers kept the tavern standing, if only because it had
the best drinks within 500 miles. As of now, it had the only drinks within 500 miles.
Sara Taylor stood outside, back to the door, wind blowing her soft blonde hair every-which way. Cold tears
stood out on her pale cheeks, slowly drifting their way down her liquid paper face. This place was heaven for
many.
It was Hell for her.
The outside of the tavern was solid concrete. No bricks, no wood, no paint. Just hard, scratchy, grey stone, contrasting strongly with the light-brown sand below it. A poor excuse for a sign half-hung, half-swung from
the gutters on top.
The thing that stood out, though, was the door. Bright red. Like a drop of blood in a sea of gravel. About 3 years
ago, some dumbass had carved 'LeAve THiS placE' on the front. Right at eye level, too. And if that didn't scare
the customers away, the bullet holes would.
Anyway, let's get back to the girl, shall we?
Sara's life was a wreck. 2 years ago, a man had come to this bar asking for a bottle of whiskey. Being the bartender, she happily obliged. Now, she wished with all her broken mind that she hadn't.
He said his name was Jon. But the folks at the bar had called him 'Dragon'. To this day, she never knew why. It drove him crazy.
One fateful night, everything exploded in her face. It was maybe... a half a year after he had first appeared at
the bar. She had just finished the night, and was making her way up to her room on the top floor. Then the door opened.
At first she didn't notice him, just shrugging it off as the wind. But, maybe it was instinct, maybe it was Ka like the wind, she felt an uncontrollable urge to stop and look. And so she did.
And what she saw scared the fuck out of her.
Jon was lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. He had never made a sound. He never even screamed
for her. And as she rushed to help him, she found out why.
He had a hole the size of a sand dollar in his neck. And I don't mean a gash, or a deep fleshwound. A hole. A
hollow hole. She could see through his throat.
Immediately, and without a word, she picked him off the ground, sitting him at the closest table. She ran behind
the bar to find some bandages. When she returned, he was crying. But no, he wasn't crying. He was bleeding out
of his eyes. But no... he was crying. He was crying crimson tears of sorrow.
She finished wrapping his neck in bandages. She placed her arms around his waist. She carried him up to her bedroom. She dropped him on the bed(He was barely concious from all the pain).
Without a word, she stripped herself of her clothing. That night, they laid together.
The next morning, she found him dead at the bar, where he'd always said he wanted to die.
Since that night, her life had been shit. Thoughts of what could have been plagued her mind every waking
moment of her pathetic existence. Noone was left to protect her(He considered that his job; he never said why),
and so she was little more than a helpless whore.
But all that, was about to change. Maybe not for the better, but it would change.