Unfortunate Circumstances

Open Doors

Flashing my eyes open a nauseating pain stuck, making me flinch a bit. "Matt" I yelled and he we walked in with a plate cooked egg whites and a bottle of Advil. I sat up to the point the blanket wouldn't fall from my unclothed  body. "Here" he sat the plate down and threw my his Chelsea Grin shirt.  "Thanks" "No problem." " Be a deer and get me a pair of underwear though."  "Sure" he stepped out if the room and I swallowed two blue pills.

"Damnit Matt" "We were both drinking" " youre supposed to remember that shit,  not me. So you go but the fucking pill." "It's your body, hire will it look me buying it.I fucking bought you tampons two weeks ago." "This is why I fucking left your ass in the first place." I stepped into my room slamming the door. " Fuck this" i murmered to myself grabbing my purse from the ruffled blankets lain on the bed. 

I stepped out quickly walking towards the door, my attention directed to what lies beyond the portal. "It's raining" he warned throwing a ward of black material at me. I took it out with me and closed the door, put familiar chords drew me away from the exit and towards the door marked with painted numbers. "And your soul is a pile of ashes on the side walk. Theres an eagle scout project, I used to come to feel some kind of magic. And now the story lives,we'll wait out the days." I knocked disrupiting the gutiar stums. 

" Oh hey, sorry if im being too loud." "No, i didn't hear you until I came into the hall. But your voice is beautiful, you like Rocky Voloto?" "Yeah, I was just listening to Makers wanna come in?" "sure." I followed him to the small living room couch. A large black acoustic guitar sat laid out of the couch along with a remote and notebook filled with blue scribbles. 

"You want anything to drink?" he asked stepping into the kitchen, "tea?" " black cherry, green, or mango?" "mango sounds good." "great" he filled a metal kettle up and sat it on the stove. "So you're an artist?" he asked pulling two mugs from the cabinets. "yeah, I wanted to get my degree." "so you wanna live in France and draw the Eiffel Tower?" " Actually I wanna live here and became a tattoo artist." " you need a degree for that?"

" No, but ive been in shops since I was 10 and learned everything about the trade. Expecially that you want to give people amazing pieces to be proud of not resent the next day." " Oh, it'll help with the whole aprentace thing too right?" "actually Im completly self taught, Watching them put a machiene togeather 5 times a day and wrapping freash tattoos everyday for 8 years teaches you a few things. But I starrted on pig skin 5 years ago and I seldomly tattoo people."

He sat the steaming cup in my hands, the beautiful white dragon striking out from the harsh black background. "So you're a musician?" "Yeah, I mean music is amazing and able to play it just gives you this feeling." " you play guitar?" " Yeah, electric, acoustic ,and a bit of piano."  "So you're doing the music program?" "yeah, the same reason as you I want to make better music." "So you make music?" he became very hesitant and gave an unsure look on his face.

After a few seconds of deep think he came out with his answer " yeah, little bits of songs ,but mostly covers." "Oh well thats pretty great." a whistle was herd from the kitchen. He sat the cup down and walked over towards the stove. I moved myself along the couch noticing his extensive CD collection. 'Rob Zombie, HIM, Rocky Voloto, Limp Bizkut, The Misfits, Motionless In White, and Marilyn Manson' made up and extensive section. "Oh I never really caught you're name" he started sitting down in the chair. "Ryan  'The Treachorous' Pyszka, you?" " Rick 'Horror' Olson"