*WARNING : Contains Mature and Explicit Content
"You sure you know what you're getting yourself into bambi?"
"No. But I can't wait until I find out."
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Life is a series of coincidences thrown at us by the universe. What happens after is completely d...
| ISABELLE | ♫: The Ole Devil Called Love by Chet Baker
CHAPTER SEVEN | DEVILISH SMIRK
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THE BLARING SOUND OF a car's horn honks loudly at me as I quickly cut across the street in hopes of making the drivers feel guilty enough to let me through. After my many encounters with almost being hit by them, one would think that I would be scared from doing things that involve the risk, but so far none of my near-death experiences have led me to be so. I was already extremely late and waiting for the crosswalk sign to change was something that I could not afford to be doing. Specifically, the one on 4th placed right beside the subway entrance is where my hatred and personal vendetta lies. It takes at least five minutes to change and that's including the time I spend rapidly hitting the button as if it actually has the power to make it change faster- I believe it does but a lot of people don't so I tend to keep the belief to myself.
When I did pass through, I gave the one driver an awkward smile and a mouthed apology as I only just brushed past his car but he wasn't as gentle about his distaste for it when he flipped me off before I sped down the subway stairs. It's not like I didn't deserve it because I know I did, it's just the city is always so fast-paced. It never slows down, so I have to keep up with it.
The subway was cold when I reached the end of the steps and the lingering smell that was always there finally reached my nose. It was definitely adding to my much-needed wake-up since the coffee I once had in my hand was already halfway gone due to me bumping into a person on my way from dropping Bug off at school. I was lucky to have even gotten her there with how late the start of my morning was and managed to arrive just as the other kids were being brought inside from the playground. She was the least happy with me this morning and pretty much the only reason I was up at all.
I like to think that I'm usually very good at being ready on time and having everything prepared for her to go to school but If I also want to be realistic about myself my track record is on the lower end of things.
Before my mind and body were racing a mile a minute I was in a pretty decent sleep. I was stuck inside the line between peaceful bliss and dreadful regret. The latter of the two had yet to hit me because I was in such a fond place of contentment that I was refusing to let the opposing feeling in.
I realized however during that moment of time in a deep sleep where you've woken up slightly but not fully that I wasn't in my own bed. The familiar scent of strawberries and apples filled my nose and my tired eyes looked down at the rose-printed bedding I was currently in.
Last night during my wine drunken haze with Nicole I must have found my way into Bugs' bed– something that wasn't uncommon for me to do. It was actually something I did quite a lot and more so when I wasn't totally inebriated.
