Life … it’s a strange thing.
With every moment that passes us by, we change, we experience, we live and we evolve.
My life is a strange one, not necessarily unhappy … just strange.
Don’t believe me? Well, let me elaborate. My dad, Eleazar Barone, who is a full-time criminal lawyer, has a hobby—coffee art. And to get his fix, he runs a café downstairs to our home. Strange, right?
As if that wasn’t enough, he decided to employ many of his old clients after they’ve been acquitted of their crimes. So basically, I grew up having ex-convicts around the house.
And then there’s my job. Instead of being a lawyer like my dad, I decided to become a journalist. A very challenging line of work, right? Well, my job is ten times more challenging than you can imagine because I’m not your typical journalist. No, I’m an entertainment reporter for an internet magazine … also known as paparazzi.
Now now, don’t frown upon me. I didn’t choose to become a designated stalker of all things celebrity from actors to their dogs. But turns out, if you want to become a serious reporter, you need to have a lot experience in news hunting. So that’s what I’m doing right now … gathering experience.
Fixing the pizza delivery person hat on top of my head, I press my finger down on the calling bell and brace myself. It’s time to find out just who’s the mystery visitor Seattle’s top model has been entertaining at her home.
An hour later, I find myself in the sandwich shop across from my office, my hunger for spicy news diminished by the mystery visitor turning out to be none other than Tanya Denali’s sister.
Equipped with my sustenance also known as Chicken Salad Sandwich, I start walking out of the shop just when my phone chirps with an incoming message. I look down at the message and cringe.
You better have a scoop for me when you show your face around the office ~ Clearwater
Leah Clearwater, my editor in chief, was a woman of many talents, but being patient wasn’t one of them. Heaving a sigh, I walk out of the shop and head for the bus stop, figuring I’ll snoop around Tanya’s house some more to find out if she’s really hooking up with Laurent Stalin or not. Did I mention that I hate stalking people for a living?
The bus comes right on time. I lower the cap on my head, shielding my eyes from the sunlight and get on. Placing my backpack at my feet, I doze off for a moment, resting my eyes, if you will. I almost fall asleep … almost, until something catches my eyes. Opening my eyes, I see a man in black clothes get off the bus … with my backpack slung on his shoulder!
I look down at my feet, and sure enough the spot where my backpack was is empty. “Wait!” I yell as the bus doors start to close. “Wait! He’s running off with my bag! Stop!” I make my way to the doors and jump down from the bus. For a second, I try to take in my surroundings before a hint of black catches the corners of my eyes.
“Thief!” I scream as I take off in that way. He turns his head to look at my way and then runs off in the direction of an alleyway. I don’t hesitate in following him, determined to get my things back.
I watch as he rushes into an empty-looking pub and heads for the washrooms. Without breaking my stride, I follow him right to the closed door to the men’s room.
“Open up, you thief!” I shout as I slam my hands on the door. “Give me back my bag!”
There’s a soft sound of a click and the door opens a crack. I don’t allow myself to think of the repercussions of my actions as I push it open and step inside just before the door slams closed behind me.
In front of me, I see the contents of my bag strewn all over the small countertop of the washroom. Behind me, I feel his presence. I start to turn my head back to look at him when a hand comes up to cover my mouth while another hand grabs my hands behind my back, pulling me back to a hard chest.
Fuck fuck fuckity fuck! I curse in my head. I curse myself for letting myself get into this situation.
I wait for something to happen. Will he hurt me? Will he kill me? I start to panic. I watch as he reaches out toward where my paper knife lay on the sink, and my heart drops to my stomach.
Shit! I’m going to die. Will dad find me here?
Closing my eyes tightly, I wait for my life to flash before my eyes and then for it to go away with a simple cut to my throat. However, no flashes come. Instead, I feel him pull one of my hands up to his face and then … clip … clip … clip … he clips three fingernails from my right hand using my nail clipper!
He pulls me back to him and then brings his mouth to my ear. “You really shouldn’t have followed me in here. It could be dangerous for you,” a velvety soft voice whispers in my ear. “Also, you should carry a hairbrush in your bag like a regular girl.”
Before I can muster up enough strength to ask him who he is, my arms are released and he’s gone.
As I stand there, bracing my hands on the sink, I try to make sense of what just happened to me.
Who was he?
A/N: So … thoughts?
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Thanks for reading.
See you on Friday.
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