The Sun has completely set now. As I walked down neon-lit streets, trying to get to the subway station before my train came, I noticed a little convenience store with a broken sign and went in. The store was bathed in this green-white light, smelled of alcohol and depression, and was just pathetic. The old fucker on the register was checking me out, noting that down mentally. A new victim for me to visit soon I guess. I pick out a pack of ramen, a few milk teas, and a couple of miscellaneous items. I loop around the back of the store next to the drinks and notice that in the 4th aisle from the door, there was a section of pocket knives and little switchblades. It’s locked up in a plastic container with a little lock. Kinda useless, seeing how the back of the shelf was brittle and made of cheap plastic. With the noises of the loud ass fan and the old man not being able to see me unless he leaned over the register, I went into the 3rd aisle behind the knives and just gently started to chip a hole in the plastic shelf, making it big enough for me to slip my fingers and a switchblade out. I managed to only slip out 4 of them before the old bastard on the register decided to look up from his newspaper. I quickly put the knives in my bag and hid the hole with a chip bag as he started to check on me. I walked towards him with my bag of items and placed it on the counter. The old man took his sweet ass time scanning all the food and ogling at my tits from time to time. I pretend to not notice, but all I want to do is watch him bleed from the neck down to his feet. Once he finally scanned all my things I asked him a question

“Hey, Sir?”I said in a sweet voice.

“What do you want?”

“Do you happen to sell any phone cases, Sir?”

“Yeah, why ya wanna buy one or sum thing?”

“ Yes sir. Can I see the ones for a Model 7?”

He rolled his eyes and mumbled about how “young people and their mothafucken phones,” or whatever nonsense, and brought out a box of phone cases. I grabbed a couple of cute, decent-looking ones and bought them. 

Going back into the nasty, moist neon street I checked the time on my phone and realized my train was coming in less than 6 minutes. I ran as fast as I possibly could to the station. With the wind in my hair, the little splashes of water on my thigh highs, and the sweat starting to form on my face, I ran as fast as humanly possible. The people next to me turn into blurs and streaks of faceless colors as I hear the occasional “Hey watch it” and “Excuse me” or “What the fuck” that goes with the streaks. I ignore them all and keep going. I see the entrance and practically fly down the stairs, jumping past the gates, and making it to the waiting area as the train pulls into the station. I dash right into the first compartment I see and jump in. 

Out of breath and panting, my hand on my knees as I pant, with my bag and food in hand and backpack on the back, I stumble over to the chair and slump down. I get myself settled for the ride and place my stuff on the empty seat next to me. I get my shit together and sit up properly. Looking around the compartment, I noticed that there weren't that many people, maybe 20 at most. I look at the random advertisement passed around the walls and take a breath. Looking down at my phone, I start to play some music through my headphones and let myself zone out with my eyes closed. 

Opening my eyes after hearing the intercoms announce that my stop is next, I look around at the people left in the compartment. Scanning around, I see a very familiar and specific person. Someone I wish I never had to see again. 

Her

Why was she here? What is she doing? I start to panic. The last living thing of my past. The only goddamn person I couldn’t get rid of. I am itching to hurt someone, anyone. It has been so many years since I had seen her. Every time I see her I remember what is unwanted. All the shit I tried to run from. As my stop approaches, I collect all my stuff, get up, and get ready to dash right out before the train goes to its 2nd to last stop. I stand up and face towards the door waiting for the train to pull into the station and the doors to open. I turned to look at HER and we made eye contact. Her ember eyes and long, silky, straight hair, her sharp jawline and body created from years of work, fuck. I tried to break my gaze from those honey eyes, but I can’t, my heart pounds faster, and my face feels hot and flustered. Am I having a panic attack? What is the weird feeling? She looks at me and scrunches her face. Like she’s trying to figure out something. Like, she’s trying to recognize me… Oh, God. 

Oh, Fuck Oh Fuck Oh Fuck Oh God Oh No Please Don’t

We pull into the station, and the doors open right in front of me. The noise of the hissing doors snapped me out of my daze and I jumped right out and ran away. My backpack shifted on my back, the bag of food swinging on my arm, and my phone in hand, I ran as fast as possible to the exit. Turning around out of curiosity, I see her standing up looking at me with a look of shock and recognition. She runs towards the door just for them to close in her face. Shifting over to her left she looked at me with an emotional expression (that I just can’t figure out), through the train window. The train pulls away and she never stops looking at me. I make it up to the stairs and I start panting. Slowly walking up the stairs, I walked into the quiet streets and headed to the motel.

 I see the rusty neon sign as I slowly dragged myself home, and sigh. Looking around the packed parking lot, I see people walking up the stairs of the motel coming back from work I suppose judging by their clothes, I haul myself up the dirty stairs. The maroon paint of the railing is flaking off revealing the old rusty steel, damaged by the weather from what I can tell. This place is old. That’s all I can say about this place. It’s the kind of motel you would find in the middle of nowhere, a place you stay because you have no choice, I didn’t have much of a pick when the court decided that I would live here, but it’s ok. It’s far away from the city, which helps with keeping away from the crime scenes, it’s not flashy, helps with avoiding attention, and no one here likes the cops or the feds so no one would snitch or tell if I was being suspicious anyways. This is my life I guess.

End of Chapter 2