I don’t know how long I sat there after my kicking tantrum, just sitting in silence, trying to ignore this whole situation. The makeover, the training and that dreaded first meeting in the alleyway. Everything.
I just wanted some time to do nothing. I wanted to think about nothing, to say nothing and to literally be nothing. Nothingness doesn’t cause too many problems now does it?
Sing a song. A voice in my head urged me to do softly.
I sniffled pathetically before scanning through a list of songs in my head. Singing always makes me feel a little better. Ed Sheeran always makes me feel better. I coughed and furiously wiped my face from its tears.
“I’m gonna pick up the pieces” I sang shakily, sniffing all the way. “And build a Lego House. If things go wrong we can knock it down.”
Instead of making me feel better, it made me feel even more uneasy. I want to knock down these stupid walls! It has gone wrong, and I want to knock everything down. More tears streamed down my face and I ditched the song, trying to come up with a new one to sing.
“Now we’re standing alone in a crowded room, and we’re not speaking!” I bellowed out loudly, deciding to go along with Taylor Swift’s heartfelt words. Automatically however, I started crying furiously. The salty tears that hung on my cheeks were beginning to dry, and a new sensation of wet upon the already sticky was tickling my cheeks.
How on earth can I sing Taylor Swift at a time like this?! She’s so emotional!
“GIRLS! We run this mother! YEAH! Who run the world? GIRLS! It’s hot up in here DJ don’t be scared to run this, run this track! I’m looking for the girls who’re taking over the world let me raise a glass to the college grads!”
I smiled, feeling immediately liberated. Oh yeah, the truth is crap at this moment in time. Almost non-existent. But heck, I could run the world. I continued singing loudly, through all the hiccups and the sniffs, even though I knew no amount of auto-tune could make me sound even half-decent.
“See! You better not play me! Don’t come here baby! Hope you still like me! If you pay me! My persuasion, can build a na-”
“YO! Queen B, shut the hell up!” an angry male voice yelled through the door, cutting me off from my singing. I growled at the door, making sure he heard it. A light chuckle and a closer analysis of the voice told me that Joey was definitely behind this door right now. And to be honest, I wasnt in the mood to see him.
“What do you want Joey?!” I yelled angrily. I waited, the only sound being the expensive water system behind the cracked walls.
No response.
I was just about to continue with my song when the door burst open and a flustered Joey burst in before slamming the door shut behind him and locking it using the new Locker Tracer device I had trained with, to the despair of my 3 stylists. I gaped at him, open-mouthed whilst he tried to gather himself.
His dirty blonde hair was all ruffled and messy and his usual training attire of sleeveless vest and army combats with military boots seemed a little more dusty than usual. His cold blue eyes seemed to burn within mine and I blinked, breaking the connection.
“What do you want?!” I shrieked at him, consciously flushing the toilet and closing the lid. He didn’t need to see the results of my regurgitation. I continued to glare at him. He took a deep breath before sliding to the floor and crawling towards me. He finally made a stop next to me before laughing quietly.
“I wanted to know why you would ruin Beyonce for me!” he exclaimed, punching my arm lightly. As dark the mood I was in was, I couldn’t help but smile when he said that. I punched him back and he leant back against the wall.
YOU ARE READING
Stolen Identity
Mystery / Thriller'You'd like to think you are sure of yourself. You know who you are, what you like, your interests and your dislikes. Your identity is more than just what it says it is. It's your token to life and acceptance in some cases. And then that's taken awa...
