Trevor Philips x Reader: "Lifeache."

"Sandy. Fucking. Shores."

A.N: Welcome to the first chapter of my story! This chapter sets the scene and dialogue is to come.

TW: Swearing.

Word Count: 1350

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"Sandy. Fucking. Shores."

Scorching sun-rays blazed down on the ground, travelling through each individual crack of the bone-dry soil; greying tarmac seemed to melt the weary tires of any car that drove by. Nearby vegetation fought to stay alive amidst the fierce heat, the once green leaves of the spring now sucked of joy by the awakening of the summer. The only spec of colour in the scene was the ocean in the horizon, the sapphire waves as jolly as a child on Christmas morning - the light shone on the swirly sea, complimenting it like two petals in the wind. They seemed to dance together. Sunshine laying down on the blanket of water, making it shine like a perfectly polished diamond. But everything else... looked... well, decayed. Like an empty packet of cheap cigarettes, neglected and trampled on by the passers by.

Nature nurtures and peruses the beauty in herself, she gave up with mankind a long time ago - tired of fighting our battles for us, it's our job to protect her. Guilt started to seep into my stomach. Yeah we done fucked up, I thought to myself as I withdrew smoke from my mouth with a sigh. All alone, I sat on the decrepit steps of a trailer letting the rays of the blazing sun seep into my skin. My arms bear and two-toned as I wore an old shirt covered with various repulsive stains on, paired with some age old acid-washed denim shorts I must have had since I was a teenager. It was far too hot and sweaty to wear shoes; I didn't have any sandals. So I just let my feet rest on the ground, my toes curiously ran along each indent and groove in the ground - the soles of my feet blackened with every movement.

Inhale. Exhale.

I threw my cig end on the floor, not bothering to see where it landed. Honestly, I couldn't care less if this hell hole burnt down; each day was a chore, same old shit. The wretched smell of car gas. Ear-splitting screeches of crows. Parchment-dry mouths left from the ever glowing glare of the sun. I need to feel something, a rush - anything other than this; a kickstart in my heart to make me feel alive again.

I'd spent years waiting, hell I'm in my mid thirties... shouldn't I be settled down by now? With a loving husband who cares for me just as much as I care for him, along with young ones we'd rase and nurture? To be honest I always thought I'd have that by now, as a younger woman I longed for a family. As I have grown older, the dream seemed to slowly disintegrate and drift away like sand in an hourglass. All the long, tedious, unfulfilling years wasted by sitting on the side of a road offering damn car washes for a whopping five dollars so I could go back home to my decayed mattress and the mould-dwelling cockroaches just to repeat the same. fucking. day. over and over again.

Finally it was closing time, 7pm; I stood up with a grudge. The hours of sat on the step of the trailer waiting for cars to pull over fucked with my back, I put my hands on the lower parts and arched it with a groan - my head to the side and my face scrunched up like a raisin as I heard the oddly satisfying cry of my aching bones. I packed up the abundance of sweaty sponges and stew-like soaps and threw them into the trailer without any caution, I somewhat slammed the rusting door of the
trailer shut with an angry undertone. I was tired, just wanting to go home (if I could even call it that) and sleep for decades.

My car waited patiently for me at the end of the road, her paint peeling like a nasty sunburn, the dust from the bone-dry soil making itself at home in the dents and dips. I touched the handle to open the door, I quickly recoiled my hand. The metal frame had collected so much heat during the day. Without any care I yanked the door open wide so I could climb in, the air inside seemed to be one hundred times hotter than that of outside; sweat instantly started pouring down my face, I was eager to put the air conditioning on but instead was greeted with a gust of hot air in my mouth. I winced and was quick to shut it off, with a huff I rolled the windows down to let the hot atmosphere circulate to something bearable as I turned on the car - it took a few tries of vigorous turning to try and get her engine to respond. She started with a splatter and a cloud of grey fumes dispersed from the exhaust - in a flash I was blazing down the roads of Sandy Shores, embracing the gentle touch of the cool air against my face as my hair blew against it as the litres of sweat were swept away with the wind.

A short time later I pulled up to my beige coloured, one-bed bungalow where I lived alone. My front yard was the definition of empty (minus the array of smashed Pißwasser bottles and trampled on E-Cola bottles), I saw the remains of what once was a plastic deck chair but was now nothing but a pile of slats and torn apart and shat on fabric. As I reluctantly strolled to the front door, I noticed the neighbours cat taking a shit on the doorstep; it was a raggedy looking thing, tabby brown, green eyes with half it's ear and tail missing.
"No no no!" I snarled, "Get the fuck off my step you rat." It scrambled away with a screech as I neared the doorstep, my house keys in one hand and in the other a lukewarm bottle of Pißwasser that I was calling my dinner - it was not only too hot to cook but also the amount of fucks I gave about my health were little to none. What's the point? The quicker I die the quicker I get to leave this hell-hole.

I threw my keys on the stained, marble kitchen counter which was the most attractive brown shade - I placed my knock-off Adidas trainers on the shoe rack and took off my sweat-stained socks. The tap kept dripping. Drip, drip, drip. It drove me fucking insane, the rage slowly boiled deep down in my stomach - without hesitation I grabbed the bottle opener and retreated into my just as lovely bedroom. Stains riddled my rug, lord knows what they were as I bought the goddamn thing second hand. It lay lifeless on my cheap tile flooring, I think it was supposed to be white? That's what it said on the description online, but I'm not convinced.

My body lay on the equally as stained mattress, my unnecessary sheets pushed to the edge of the bed-frame as I rested there chugging my unsatisfyingly warm beer. My eyes felt heavy in my skull, they felt like heavy asteroids resting in my sockets like craters. A blurry haze came over them, I blinked slowly and felt tears start to trickle down my burned cheeks; the heat radiating from my cheeks almost evaporated the salty liquid, but the tears also soothed the pain I felt on my face. My gentle crying led to more and more water to trickle down from my tear ducts, I placed the beer bottle on the ring-marked mahogany bedside cabinet and I rolled on my side. A stuffed bear lay opposite from me, it's fur matted and old, it's stuffing disproportionately placed - some areas plump and others limp. It was a present, a present from my late grandmother who passed when I had just turned eleven. I pulled it close and cried into the once soft fur and fell asleep right there, still wearing this repulsive shirt and acid-washed denim shorts. I was living my best life here in Sandy. Fucking. Shores.