The Irony of Regret

1

Song of the chapter: War pigs by Black Sabbath

Quote of the Chapter: 'For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.' -Rudyard Kipling 

Her name was Malice. This is her memoir. She was a girl who didn't let her emotions get in the way of the job. She rarely let people see her face. She looked a bit different than the rest of us. She operated differently, too.

She thought in pro's and con's. She thought in what-could-happen's and is-it-legal's and did-I-leave-evidence's. She thought in what she could get away with and what she needed to do to get the job done.

She had scars and tattoos and piercings. She looked intimidating. She was intimidating. She rarely spoke. She didn't laugh or cry. She didn't care.

She was a sociopath. She didn't feel anything. But she had an urge. She wanted to make friends with lots of bad people and go out with a bang while taking out as many people as possible.

I supposed I should start with when she moved.

It was a cool day in November when she moved to America to finish her senior year of high school. She got off of the plane and made it to her apartment with her luggage without assaulting anyone. It was an incredible feat.

She went grocery shopping and unpacked. That took about three hours.

Then, she went on a walk. She walked around and found her high school, a gas station, two bars, a bank, and a few other establishments. On her stroll she also encountered a few men. They didn't exchange words, but they watched her closely as she passed.

They saw her as a potential threat. She saw them in the same way. She knew a street gang was watching her. That didn't deter her from her mission.

Malice kept walking until she found what she was looking for. A warehouse with a bouncer in front and blaring music pounding out the door. Not a club.

She walked up to the bouncer, whom she thought looked like a bulldog, and he let her through. The bass was louder inside, ricocheting off the metal walls.

There were several stands surrounding a boxing arena. She had found the Silver Dollar. A notorious illegal fighting and bar production run in a worn out warehouse. Infamous bar fights and killings had taken place there, making it an ideal place for her to find employment.

When she left the Silver Dollar, she had acquired something new. A job. She was now a fighter and a bartender. She was paid nine dollars and fifty cents an hour to bartend and one hundred dollars per fight.

Now that she had food and a means of supporting herself, she began the trek home. She wasn't looking where she was going when she ran into him.

James Park.

She didn't know who he was. He didn't know her. He wanted to, though.

Her beauty was stubborn and definite. The scars on her face didn't change a thing. Her figure was tall and lean in the best ways. And he never would forget her eyes. Those black eyes screamed danger and cruelty. They were almost a mirror to his own.

James didn't get the chance to ask her name before Malice stormed past. She was tired from the time difference and eager to go home.

She marched back the way she had originally came. She met her new neighbor, Edith. A kind old lady with no family left. She attempted to start a conversation with Malice, but she had no luck. Because Malice doesn't believe in luck or coincidences. So, they don't exist.

She double and triple checked that all the food and clothes were put away before making her bed.

Malice set her alarm and went to sleep.

Jefferson High School wasn't ready for her. No one was. Most especially James Park.

---

So, I'm rewriting all/most of my books to be in third person. I like it better than first. Sorry for the inconvenience.

As usual, if you have something you want me to add or something I should fix, message me or comment to let me know.

-Danniele