craving - n.j.h

one

Hey guys!

This is not one of my most proudest works. I wrote this in my bedroom a couple of years ago -  for myself to read - because I loved to write. I still do, but looking back at this story today, I don't feel very good about it. It contains triggers for people who have experienced sexual abuse, it is mostly poorly written and it just feels kind of sloppy throughout. My writing has changed over the years, and as the story goes on my writing gets better, which is always nice. I just don't connect to the story anymore. 

As a writer you change a lot. Your thoughts change, causing your writing to change. As much as I loved writing it, this story is just not me anymore. What I write today differs so much from this story.  I have grown a lot since I started writing this, hence why I can't relate to the story anymore. I'm sorry for that, but as you all know, we all change. The point is that this story doesn't feel like me anymore, but I will keep it up for you guys and for myself, when I want to look back at my writing. Now I'm rambling.

I have gotten so much incredibly positive feedback on this story from the start up until this day, and for that, I thank you guys so much. I love that you love it! 

Happy reading x 

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I met him on a cloudy, dark and chilly September night in the downtown streets of London. 

My two best friends - Sydney and Denise - and I were stumbling down the streets of London, on our way home from a night club. I've had way too much to drink tonight, and I regret those last shots I took. Goddamn it.

I can't believe they actually convinced me into going out tonight, because I wasn't really that type of person who partied a whole lot, but they surely were. Denise and Sydney is always up for a party, and everyone knows it. They always push me to go out and drink, saying 'it'll be fun' but I would always tell them no. And then they kept nagging me about it, I always stood my ground and didn't go. But tonight was different; They finally had convinced me to go, and I must admit I enjoyed it quite a lot. The lit up and crowded dance floor usually didn't appeal me, but once I got a bit of alcohol into my system, it seemed like there could not be a better place to be.

The whole world felt kind of off, and everything seemed to spin. I accidentally stumbled over my own feet, making Sydney laugh and let out an uncontrolled, loud giggle.

My ears were ringing from the loud music, and my feet hurt with every step I took. It was the goddamn heels fault.

And why didn't I wear flats? Oh right, because I was going to a night club, and, "you don't wear flats to night clubs," Sydney had told earlier tonight.

My heels weren't extremely high though, but I tell you, they were quite chunky and very heavy. My tiny feet couldn't handle dancing and jumping around for hours with that kind of weight on them. I guess I could say my feet were tired and ached really badly.

I also wore a black, tight and thigh long dress. It's something i'm not very used to. The whole, lace-black-and-tight thing didn't make me feel very comfortable but I felt goddamn sexy in it in my drunken state. Hours earlier I doubted even wearing it, but of course, Sydney and Denise had talked me into it.

The girls and I walked down an unknown street, assuming we were on our way home and not paying attention to where we were headed - mindlessly stumbling around.

We turned right and strolled down a dark, narrow alley.

The world spinned and I was just about to fall, but, lucky for me, Denise catched me.