Dire (18+)

I. Sos

Once I was done, I moved to step out, and the moment my feet landed on the cream-coloured walnut tiles of the bathroom floor, an Idea hit. I wasn't entirely out of luck, I still had hope.

There are times misfortune comes, and afterward, you hold on to perceive what the universe and you can make of it, how you can make something good happen from something so terrible. Then, you can either sit and cry or grab life by the balls and let it know who is in control. I rushed out of the bathroom, catching myself before my face connected with the ground, towards my phone, which was currently on the third song of my shower playlist. I picked it up from my bed, contemplating if I should do what I was about to do. I didn't particularly appreciate burdening people with my problems, but this was someone I could go to with any situation, and he'd miraculously always have a solution.

Tapping on my phone frantically, I pulled up his contact and sent the message, anxiously biting my bottom lip.

SOS

I threw my phone back onto the bed and strolled to my closet to find clothes to wear. I finally settled on a pair of black denim shorts and a red cropped top.

I raised softly curved arms over my head in an attempt to guide the maroon fabric down my torso. But, unfortunately, the red top stuck to my person, outlining every crevice of my being. I pivoted abruptly and dashed towards the bed in the middle of my room upon hearing the sound of a message being received. This was my last hope. But I know he always comes through for me.

Where and when? The message said.

I texted back immediately—Murray's diner, at 12:30.

I had prayed multiple times. I never not prayed, but this time I asked forgiveness for things I usually wouldn't. Anything to get me out of this predicament because I reasoned that perhaps all the bad shit- sorry, things, all the bad things I've done is what hindered good things from happening to me. I asked Dios to forgive me for calling that old lady who cut the line at the Walmart a Puta. And for thinking dirty thoughts about my neighbour, Mike; however, once I walked into my kitchen, I imagined him taking me on the counter. I quickly realized I had and would continue to sin more times than I could ask for forgiveness.

"Ah Dios mío."

I grabbed my phone and headed towards the kitchen for a quick snack. I made a bee-line to the refrigerator when I stopped. What the fuck is the point anyway? All I had in there was ice, expired milk, and some other shit that'll probably make me cry. I decided to stop at Jimmies, to get a burrito on my way to work.

Walking out of the kitchen, I headed towards the front door, stopping in front of the circular mirror hanging on the wall. I took in my appearance, and I looked visibly tired; I mean, I was, that doesn't mean I want to look like it.

My usually vibrant dark brown skin had lost its glow, and my typically bright brown eyes were dull; I noticed eye bags forming. I sighed, running my hands over my face. Then proceeded to scold myself for doing that. I didn't like touching my face to avoid breakouts. To prevent myself from staring into the mirror for hours on end, I slipped on my vans in a rush. I grabbed my keys and turned off the lights before stepping out the door.

I spun around quickly when I heard footsteps behind me, only to slam into someone's chest.
Oh, Dios mío, Hard, muscular, defined chest belonging to none other than the man standing in the way of my blossoming relationship with God, Mike.