The Girl in Black (Rewriting)

Chapter, 1

I was a clown, for I was not pretty.

And I hated it more because it all was true.

I sat on the bench of a skating ground. It all was lonely. Even in the day, the light didn't do its job.

I took a packet of cigarettes out of my bag. The crinkling of wrapper being unwrapped followed by the satisfaction of a new packet, I was ready for a touch of liberty. I took one out of the packet. With a click, the lighter lit my cigarette. Holding it in between my forefinger and middle finger, I pulled the smoke deep in my lungs. The rough scratch at the back of my throat, and the relaxation—freedom. We met at last.

I blew the puff of smoke into the air, watching it disappear into nothingness. What if I was a smoke too? So that I could disappear just like that.

Who am I kidding? I am one. I inhaled the toxin one more time before it was snatched from me. 'Hey!' I protested at a boy who just sat by me.

'Sorry. But it seemed like you were too much lonely,' he laid his left arm on the top of the back of the bench, behind me. 'Care to have a company?'

'Go fuck yourself,' I open the packet again and take one for myself. I lit it and continued my smoking.

'I just did, actually,' he blew the smoke into the air, 'that is why I am here.' I stayed quiet, concentrating on my remaining seconds of freedom. 'So, tell me, princess, how was your day?'

'Who are you even to fucking ask that?'

'That,' a small smile crawled up to his lips, 'is a very good question but you won't like the answer.'

'Whatever.'

'Where do you live?'

'Not your business.'

'Oh, is it, 37th Rose Street, 568?'

I was shocked and annoyed. If he knew my address, wither he was a stalker, or some person I would not like to meet. Though, he didn't look like one. He was a teenage boy, about my age, with his blond hair tossed to a side, his diamond-cut chin being rubbed by his fingers. A black t-shirt covered his body along with black sweat pants. He even smelled good, yet, somewhere within me, something felt too wrong.

I stood up from the bench. Hanging the strap of my bag over my shoulder, I walked away. Only to be stopped by two more boys—I knew nothing about—at the gate. 'Leave me alone,' I mustered up a courageous voice yet it sounded petite. They all were well-built, tall, muscular—big. I didn't want to be in trouble.

'We will if you tell us what we ask you.' The boy from the bench, walked up from behind me.

'I know nothing, alright. Now, step away.'

They closed blocked the door completely know. 'We won't hurt you. Just one answer and you'll be good to go.'

'I told you, I know nothing. What can a girl like me, know?'

'What can a girl like you, not know?' The Bench Boy leaned down that his breath fanged on the crook of my neck, and I stepped away. 'Tell me, Princess. What did your uncle say to you this morning?'