Standing on the curb outside of the all ages club "Cyanide" I spot a cab up the street. The taxi driver ignores my desperate waving and continues to speed past me and down the road forming a haze of dust. Half of the street was covered in dirt due to a building sight across the road. Cyanide is the only place to hang out on weeknights, giving us the perfect opportunity to neglect our homework and hook up with a few cute strangers. Chris stood with me protesting my attempts of hailing a cab.
"It's a waste of money." he objects, trying to think of an excuse to make me take up his offer on driving me home. Despite the fact he found me in a night club, I just don't feel up to it. He softly kisses my neck, slowly working his way up to my jungle red lips. His hand grazes my shoulder and continues down my back wrapping around my waist.
"Come on, just let me drive you home." He whispers, his hand travelling further down.
"No." is all I say, throwing his wandering hands off me.
Loud laughter draws my attention towards a group of kids wearing black leather and multiple facial piercings. Kids these days, think their freakin' vampires. Snorting, I look around and catch a couple kissing passionately against a wall.
Turning back to the road, I sight another cab coming down the street. Thankfully this time I waved, it stopped, screeching brakes and all.
"Well, I'd like to say thank you but, you're hopeless." I admit, casually moving away from a dumbstruck Chris and entering the vehicle.
"51 Washington avenue." I tell the cab driver, raising an eyebrow. Closing the metal door, I'm immediately engulfed by the odour of old leather, peppermint and tobacco. Without looking back to watch the twerp in the distance, I concentrate on the name printed on the back of the drivers seat. I wonder if he'll crack the shits if I call him Achmed?
As I mentally try to pronounce the middle-eastern name, the cab suddenly jolts making me lurch foreword in my seat, banging my head on the drivers seat instantly dazing me. A speed bump has never made me grapple for the "Oh shit!" handle before, the cab must've drove over something solid to make the taxi lurch like that.
The brakes screeched a second time before the cab finally came to a stop. Pushing loose strands of hair out of my face, I direct my attention to the screaming taxi driver in front of me fumbling with his seatbelt.
"Oi, Achmed! What the hell was that!?" I complain, pulling myself between the two front seats. Before I could fully register what had happened, he was out of the car and making his way to the back of the taxi.
I watch through the rear window in confusion as he scrambles towards what looks like a mangled body lying in the yellow street light. "Holy shit, he hit someone!!!" I mentally shout, as I scramble out of the car and join the taxi driver.
There, peacefully lying on the tar, was a girl who looked to be my age and dead.
'Only seventeen, what a shame she's dead.'
'What a beauty, too bad she died in that car crash.'
'Girl who had her whole life in front of her, deceased.'
Her head was twisted at an irregular angle, creating a bulge in her pale white neck where the bone was jutting out. Short black hair strewn across her scratched forehead, she's a distorted mess. You could see her limbs bent in unnatural angles through her leather outfit wahich was mixed with soot and blood.
Besides the state of her body, her expression looked peaceful, her chest still and eyes shut. Achmed was on the verge of tears as he slowly lowered himself towards the body. His fingers brushing along her torn cheek as he whispered softly. I didn't have to understand what he was saying to know he was anguished. Then the most awe shitting thing I've ever seen happened.
The girls eyes flew open.
YOU ARE READING
Violently BeautifulScience Fiction
I wish I could have been the girl, who dived into life, sell my virtue for a cigarette and piss away seventeen with the good will of alcohol. But life comes with a sticky price tag, an annoying Perv with the quip of an American sitcom and changes wo...