Tainted

26 - Colt: Taste

Flashbacks

Friday, May 2

There are always those moments where we need to sit and think.

And then there are those moments where we just give up on the entire concept of thinking and do whatever the fuck we deemed necessary. Overthinking is for the weak - simply because second thoughts were for the ones too tethered by their mistakes to accept what they've done.

We all make the biggest mistake in believing what we do is a mistake. There are no such things as mistakes, just moments in our lives that shape who we become - moments created because we did whatever the fuck we wanted.

My flaws that weren't really flaws were known as the three of the seven sins that would essentially take me to Hell.

Anger, pride and lust.

And as I sat there that auspicious night, my throat sore from yelling over the God forsaking music and my brain pulsing against my skull, I had no shame in my three sins of Hell.

I was condemned to receive my one way ticket to Hell anyhow - as long as it meant having what I wanted.

I took yet another swig of my Guinness, gulp after gulp without giving myself a chance to breathe in between. The bass was thumping in my chest and the music ringing my ears - whatever the fuck they were playing was shit no matter how many beats the DJ dropped consecutively.

I raised my hand at the bartender, George, signaling him to bring me over another pint.

I despised these godawful British clubs.

The air hung heavily in the atmosphere, thick with the agaitating scent of cigarette smoke, alcohol and vomit, burning stench in my nose and making my nostrils to flare.

How the hell people were having a good time in here, I would never know. The only thing I knew, was that I couldn't wait to get back home and put up my feet, watching reruns of football matches nonstop.

I sighed, scanning my eyes over the sea of people in front of me jumping up and down to whatever pointless song the DJ was playing. They were all unbelievably drunk - lightweights stumbling and drunkards struggling to move.

That's when I noticed a girl jumping around in the crowd along with everyone else, and she stood tall, her close fitted dress outlining her curvy hips. I kept my attention on her silhouette intact, admiring the way she moved from afar.

I didn't doubt that she was probably a decent girl, but I was bias when it came to the exploration of the opposite sex. If you didn't have the outline, you didn't have my attention - you had to earn it.

And earn it she did.

Her heels added to her length, but her petite frame was a figure that stood out in the crowd. I'd give her that. I analyzed the crowd, focused on making tonight at least worth it.

I frowned as her body became swarmed with other drunkards, turning my attention to the bartender as he handed me my beer. I gripped the frigid bottle, tipping it back in my mouth like poison.

I hated clubs.

Sighing, I'd finally given up on all the uninteresting women this club held. I just needed to find Jaxon and get out of here. I wasn't even sure why I was here in the first place- I was supposed to be a wingman for Jaxon and he wasn't even here.

I was just about to stand from my bar stool when a blonde woman, probably in her late twenties, strut past me with enticing legs and an arse on her that made me stare. She leaned her chest over the bar to signal the bartender, her breasts basically spilling out from her strapless dress.