My Boyfriend, The Serial Killer

Chapter 1: No sugar, thanks

Oshani's POV

Growing up with an alcoholic, abusive step-brother and absentee mother was not the highlight of my life. 

That's why I started saving my money the moment I was old enough to work, and moved out as soon as I turned 18 at the start of year twelve. 

I've been living on my own for about nine months now. It gets lonely being on my own sometimes but I couldn't take anymore being beat with a belt for not completing small chores around the house and having no mother to support and love me.

It's been a month since I graduated high school. While everyone's been getting drunk and high off their asses with their friends, I've been busting my ass at work trying to save money so that I never have to rely on anybody.

I still have two months left until I start university, two months to keep working so that I can have a rainy day fund for if things go downhill. I have more than enough money saved already but you can never be too sure. My goal is to own a home within the next year. Be financially secure.

Thankfully, I managed to get a few scholarships for university with my outstanding grades so I don't need to worry about paying too much for that. 

It makes me sad that I can't go and enjoy my time after graduating like everyone else but I'm not like everyone else anyway. My dad died when I was four, after which my mother spiralled into depression. 

She didn't go to work and couldn't make money to feed us. She was forced to marry again in order to support the two of us. Her new husband died as well, leaving us to take care of his sixteen year old son, Jay. I was six at the time. 

Jay was somewhat nice to me at the beginning, until he discovered how nice it felt to be intoxicated. He would come home angry after being refused another drink from the bartender and take his anger out on little old me. 

My mum was never there to help me. She'd be out drinking, or working. As I grew, so did the amount of beatings Jay gave me. He would whip me with his belt for not dusting off the TV speakers, or not making his bed. Like that was my responsibility and he couldn't fucking do it himself to begin with. 

There's more to my story, but we can talk about that another time because I cry every time I think about some things. Besides, it's all in the past now. 

I've gone to bed many nights after having air for dinner, But I'm keeping a positive attitude because things have been a lot better lately. I keep telling myself that my life could be so much worse and I'm blessed for all I have.

I work at a small corner café as a barista. The café is on the outskirts of the city, so it's never too busy there. Not as busy at it gets in the city anyway. I've been working almost everyday for the last month, today is no exception. I also have a side hustle, but that's not important right now.

I start my eight hour shift at 9am. Currently, it's 8:30 and I've just finished getting ready. It's too early to be awake right now, but a girls got to feed herself.  

I'm thankful that I live in an apartment near the city otherwise I would have to leave my house much earlier. 

I would also have to spend more time on the train in the evening, being gawked by creepy old men and crackheads after a tiring day.

I snatch my car keys off the counter and give myself a once-over in the mirror. My black hair has been straightened and falls down my back, just above my ass. My black jeans and grey top do nothing to bring out my brown eyes, but it's my uniform. My face is in an almost bare state, I've kept it minimal with the makeup since my eyebrows are naturally thick and I got them threaded the other day. All I have on is some mascara, I don't really need foundation as I have clear skin. A blessing, I know.