|ᴜʀʙᴀɴ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ|
|ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ|
☯︎︎ ❣︎
One night stands were Yora's thing. Michael Jackson was no different. One night was all they had.
*Dissociative Identity Disorder*
A disorder characterized by the presence of two or more distinct per...
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⚠︎︎ Trigger Warning: handling of a body ⚠︎︎
❣︎ ❣︎ ❣︎
Friday Morning
❣︎ Yora ❣︎
I'd been in Atlanta my whole life. I knew how the bus system worked. That didn't mean that I disliked it any less.
I hated having to wait at the musty bus stop where a crackhead would be laying on the bench, and cigarette butts would be scattered around.
I stood as far away from the bus stop as I could, but close enough so the bus driver would know I was trying to get on. Within twenty minutes of waiting, it pulled up and let me on. I paid the measly two dollar fee and sat in the back of the bus.
I could feel everyone's eyes on me. No matter where I looked, or who I looked at, someone was staring right back at me. This was why I hated public transport. The people were weird.
I dipped my head low, trying to avoid everyone's eyes. I just kept on receiving odd glances.
The woman who was sitting in front of me was taking the most glances at me. She would look down at her phone, than up at me. I was starting to become really creeped out, but mostly annoyed with her.
"May I help you?" I snapped rudely.
"Aren't you the woman who was last seen with that rapper guy? At the Jackson Tower?"
Just this woman's words brought me back to that day. I won't even lie, I thought I was going to die. I still can't even think about it, much less talk about it without getting myself worked up.
"Uhm..." I said in response. I didn't want to say yes out of fear of what she'd say or do, but I also didn't want to flat out lie because I had a feeling she already knew the answer.
"Yes." I finally said.
The moment it came out of my mouth her eyes widened like saucers. She fumbled with her phone to dial a number and frantically raised it to her ear.
"What the hell are you doing?" I asked the woman.
She gave me a worried glance and reached out to touch my shoulder. "Everything's going to be alright. You'll be fine." She said.
I furrowed my brows. "Not until you tell me what the fuck you're doing!"
She turned her attention back to phone, saying the bus route we were on, and the section of the bus we were sitting in. It didn't matter how many times I asked the woman what she was doing, she never told me.
