I DONT KNOW why the voice only comes out when bad things happen to me but I hate it. It's always the same. I make dad angry, he punishes me, they show up and remind me that I'm crazy for hearing them (which is true), the hang around for a couple of hours, then they disappear and leave me all alone again. In the silence.
"Please." I beg Killian. I Trail out the 'ease' to emphasize just how much I need it, but hearing it out loud makes me cringe.
You sound like a child. No wonder he thinks you're annoying.
He sighs. Just like he has every time I've asked. "No." We've been going at the for half an hour. I refuse to tell him why i need the whiskey and he refuses to give it to me. The sun is rising, it's almost seven in the morning now, but the club doesn't open for another fifteen hours. It's the only shift I have today so I'll get a chance to get some sleep. Although I haven't yet and I'm exhausted.
The fatigue is weighing down on me. My eyelids and limbs feel heavy. My dizziness has calmed down but it's not completely gone. My spirits are down, and there rarely down in front of other people. I'm done arguing about this. "Fine, whatever." I mutter. I look back to the group of people and wave goodbye to Micah as I exit the club.
I don't even bother going to a bar or liquor store because I would stand out to much. Fist off, I'm about 5'3 and I have a baby face so I already look younger than I am. No way am I passing for twenty one without an ID. Secondly, it's seven in the morning. Even if they were open and I could pass for my own age, someone who might not have cared before would definitely grow aware and suspicious. It's better to wait till tonight. Instead, my make my way to my car for some sleep. I decide against parking somewhere else because this is the perfect spot. The whole lot is empty because the club is closed, and I'll be right here for my shift. I do move my car to behind the building so that Micah won't see me and feel bad.
It's not his fault. He's just doing his job.
I sit in the front seat of my car, trying to decide if I should sleep in the back seat or recline the seat im in, when the reality of the situation dawns on me. I'm not going home. I'm homeless until I can get whiskey and the only person that would sell it to me won't anymore.
And that's when I can't hold it together anymore. The tears pour uncontrollably from my eyes, and I feel like I'm drowning in my own sorrow. My hands instinctively clutch my stomach as my body trembles with each sob. The dizziness intensifies, and frustration engulfs me. Why can't I just let myself cry without feeling like I'm going to collapse?
Why are you crying anyway? Stefan says you're so much prettier when you smile.
Seeking a semblance of composure, I reach for the sun visor and face the mirror. The reflection staring back at me is a tear-streaked mess, and I try to wipe away the evidence of my vulnerability. I attempt to put on a brave face, to smile despite the feelings raging inside, but it's impossible. The smile falters, turning into a quivering lip, giving way to more tears that flow relentlessly down my cheeks. That only adds to my frustration.
I can't bear the pain any longer, and that's when I completely lose control. Frustration and anger rise like a storm inside me. I clench my fists so tightly that my knuckles turn white, and I unleash my pent-up emotions on the steering wheel. I don't even feel the pain of my cuts as I abuse it. Each strike is a release, an outlet for the overwhelming grief and despair that has been building up.
I hit it until I can't possible hit it anymore. Which isn't very long because my hands start to bleed again.
The physicality of my actions brings temporary relief, but soon the exhaustion takes over. The dizziness intensifies, turning my loud, gut-wrenching sobs into quiet, desperate whimpers. My body feels like it's been through a battle, and I'm left feeling utterly defeated and broken.
I rest my head between my arms on the steering wheel when I can't take watching the world spin around me anymore.
I don't know why you're freaking out. You've slept in the car before. You're being dramatic.
I try to ignore the voice and remind myself that I'm not being dramatic. I try to tell myself what I would tell anyone else in my situation; you're feeling are valid, it makes sense that you feel this way, try to think on the bright side. Nothing works.
All I feel is this pit in my stomach of dread. Because eventually, I'm going to have to go home, I cant sleep in my car forever and winter is approaching fast. And when I do, I'm going to be punished for taking so long.
I'm just drained and I want to go to sleep.
My entire body feels heavy and I decide against getting into the backseat because I don't think my legs would hold me up long enough to get there.
I recline my seat as low as it will go and try to fall asleep but I can't. The sun is blaring in directly into my face so instead of using my hoodie as a pillow like I had planned, I use it to cover my eyes and drift off to sleep.
҉
My head snaps up when I hear knocking. Conduction fills my brain but I ignore it and go back to bed. It's finally dark out.
It's finally dark out?
I hear the tap again, and this time I turn to look at my window. My heart stops when I see a man staring at me. I jump up from my seat I make sure the doors are locked but when I see a familiar mop of blond hair, I relax. "Maya?" He asks.
I open my door and step out to talk to him. "Micah? What are you doing here?" I observe the trash bag in his hands as he motions to the dumpster a few feet in front of my car.
"I was heading out after my shift and some one told me there was a person sleeping back here... you're not supposed to do that." He eyes me with confusion, "why where yo-"
"You're done your shift? What time is it?" My eyes go wide, in the realization that Micah has always been in while I was at work.
"2:30." He answers, pulling open the dumpster lid get rid of his trash bag.
"Oh my god." I mumble to myself. As I begin the path to the front door. "I slept through my shift."
By the time Micah has caught up to me, he's opening the door for me to walk through. I scan the place until my eyes land on Ana.
She's standing in the outside of a VIP room, talking to someone inside, who I can't see. I don't hesitate to run up to her. Her eyes meet mine as I maneuver my way through all the tables; her easy going, flirty smile turn into a glare. She turns back to the person, "hang on" I hear her say as I reach her.
"I'm so sorry." I rush out the second I see her.
"You missed your shift." She states.
"I know. I slept through it-" I begin to explain but she cuts me off.
"You don't have an alarm clock?" Her hand comes to rest on her hip as she looks down at me.
"No, my car doesn't have an alarm clock, I would've had to set one on my phone-" I shake my head at my self because that's not why I'm here. "but that's not the point. The point it-" I try to explain but she interrupts me again.
"You slept in your car?" A small smirk grows on her face and I know she's amused by this. Ana used to be my friend, or so I thought, so I had told her about how my dad liked to kick me out a lot, or how I wasn't aloud to go anywhere after work. Turns out she was just pretending and she told all the other girls.
"Yeah, but listen-" I'm once again, unable to finish my sentence as she speaks over me.
"Did daddy through you out, again?" She puts on a fake pout and speaks to me as if I was a child. Her voice raises an octave. I nod as I go to explain myself but before I can, she's talking again. Her face drops. "I don't care. You can't skip shifts. This is counting as an unpaid sick day."
My eyes widen. She can't take away my pay, I need every cent I can get. Dad doesn't work anymore so I take care of everything, bills, rent, his alcohol, food, his drugs, clothes, gas ect. "No! No, you can't, I have a house to pay for!"
She smacks her gum as she looks me up and down, I know she's eyeing my clothes and judging the fact that I also wore them yesterday. "You don't have a house anymore." She deadpans.
"Please, can't I just use one of my payed vacation days?" I beg.
"No. You didn't call in advance."
"Who covered my shift?" I ask, an idea sparking in my mind.
"Nisha. Damn girl is too nice for her own good." She scoffs.
"What if I take one of her shifts instead? Then it'll be even right?" I'm hopeful this will work, she can't deny logic right? This makes sense.
She looks down at me with a thoughtful look in her eyes, like she's thinking of something. I think she's contemplating giving me break until she smirks and says: "She doesn't work more than four hours at a time."
"I'll cover two of them!" I offer. When I see the same look in her eyes as before, I know she's thinking of any other reason to deny me. "Ana, please. I never ask you for favours."
"Not my problem." She shrugs, then disappears into the VIP room. It's in that moment that I notice the door was open the whole time. I slump my head, not only in defeat but embarrassment. Whoever that was heard everything.
I lean up against the wall, whoever Ana was talking too had left to go continue there conversation. I stare at the ground as I fight back tears. Frustration builds inside me once again but all I can't do is run my hands through my hair. That is until Ana comes out, not even a second later, bawling her eyes out. Before I even have time I ask what happened, Killian walks out of the room.
"You worked an eight hour shift tonight, yes?" He confirms.
"Well, I was supposed too." I shift awkwardly.
"How much do you make an hour?" He leans against the door of the room, his arm coming to rest on the frame above his head.
"Nineteen fifty." I say, tilting my head to the side in question.
He holds up a finger, telling me to wait a minute, then closes the door in my face. I wait, like he told me too, and when he comes back into view, he's holding his wallet. He pulls out four bills, two hundreds and two twenties, "Now you make thirty."
☄︎⋆ ༘
Okay so I didn't add Killians pov but SOON I promise.
Also if this chapter is bad it's because I have Covid rn and I don't have the energy to edit this. I'll do it when I feel better but until then, sorry if it sucks.
I'm looking back at the chapters I wrote in the beginning to lay out her life and holy shit.
This is so sad.
I wrote the first like eight chapters like this, but I promise the story gets actually interesting and happier as we go on.
What can I say? I'm a sucker for a good mentally unstable main character.
In case it wasn't clear, the italics is the voice in her head speaking.
The voice is kind of a bitch eh?
Oh well😛
Hoping to get more of Ian's pov next chapter. I can't wait until he starts falling in love with her.
Or maybe he has already...
You'll find out soon enough.
What are everyone's opinions in this chapter? Was it written okay? I was rlly tired writing this.