EIGHTEEN

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❤︎ anything that is in a different language I get off of google translate. This chapter contains a warning x
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"I don't know if this is a good idea." Rya said as we parked near the addresses. It was an hour or so after school on a Friday and I had told Rya of my plan this morning. Now we were at 85 Alcove Drive. Well, whatever Alcove Drive was. In all honesty, it wasn't really a road, more like a long alleyway with doors lining either side either leading to tiny apartment blocks or creepy warehouses.

"It's fine." I assured her. Rya was one to over worry but I knew what I was doing.

"But what if you get kidnapped?" she turned to me, bracing her hands on the steering wheel.

I chuckled, "What? By a stray cat?" it wasn't even dark outside yet and I could see perfectly fine through the alleyway, I was still going to be caution because if I were here at night, I wouldn't have the balls to even take one step out of the car.

"Cats wouldn't do such a thing!" she protested. I forgot Rya was a cat-lover.

"Um, yeah right. Have you seen the evil, little things!" I was not so much a cat-lover.

"Piggy wouldn't harm a fly!" oh yes. Piggy. Rya's cat. The damn thing would give me nightmares if it wasn't for the fact that it was so fat it could barley move. I know what you're thinking. Rya named her cat 'Piggy'? The only answer I can say is, yes. She told me it was because she thought pigs were adorable and therefore Piggy was adorable. Now, I'm no body-shamer... but that cat was so fat it would roll down the stairs instead of walk

"Whatever you say." I muttered under my breath and collected my stuff before heading out of the car. Rya was going to wait so I could report back, and I knew she was going to read some smutty BDSM book whilst I was gone. I saw the handcuffs on the cover as it sat in the back seat. She thought she was being coy by placing it upside down. Unfortunately for her, the chains carried onto the blurb.

I wrapped my arms around myself as my heels clicked along the concrete ground. I tried to stay focussed on the number scribbled on my hand. 85. 85. 85.

I could practically hear the arguments from couples, stories up in the apartments, screaming at one another about one going to a strip club and the other forgetting to buy the milk. Mice scurried around the open dumpsters, stealing content from left over Chinese takeout boxes and Taco Bell wrappers.

"83... 84...... 85." I stopped in front of a warehouse with a single, narrow door. It was weird to me how small the door was in comparison to the vast size of the place. I tried knocking but after a few minutes, was met with no answer. I decided to bundle up my courage and push it open. Luckily, it was unlocked.

I stepped inside a narrow hallway and carefully walked on till it expanded and I came across another door, a moderner looking one. I held my breath and pushed it open, and light fluttered my vision.

Before me was a large room, the walls bare bricks but the flooring a smooth black. Tonnes of old gym equipment lied about. Treadmills, bench presses, pullup bars, elliptical trainers, rowing machines. Yoga mats lied on the floor with tires, skipping ropes, and barbells surrounding.

This was a makeshift gym.

Why would Roman be at a gym?

The place wasn't empty, but it wasn't thriving with people either. It seemed like a secret but to those that new it, they treated the same as every other gym.

I realised how out of place I looked in my heels and miniskirt whilst everyone else sweat buckets in proper gym attire.

How the tables have turned. Now you're the outcast.

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