I'm Sorry, But We're Not Mates

Chapter 2

Happy New Year my fellow Wattpadders! (Did I spell that right? I don't think so...)

Anyway, another year and another chapter. 

Now this chapter was actually really fun to write. Lately, I haven't been enjoying writing because of my writers block but this was an enjoyable chapter to write. 

Thank you to everyone who votes and comments and fans and thank you for reading :)

(Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors)

*********************************************************************************************************

Chapter 2

Peter

 

                I groaned as the sunlight streamed in through the open window and bathed me in bright light. My head pounded and my stomach rolled. Throwing my arm over my eyes, I let out a curse as a car horn blared from the street below and seemed to grow louder in volume. Good God! Was it so bad to ask for some peace and quiet? Lying on my back on my stained and worn sofa, I contemplated how unfulfilling my life was.

                No job. No friends. No purpose.

                But what was the purpose of life without her? Without her there was no sunshine, no laughter, no music. Without her there was nothing.

                Visions of her fiery red hair danced through my already fogged up mind. Her laughter reverberated through my ears. Brilliant green eyes stared back at me from the blackness behind my eyelids. My fingers twitched as I recalled her smooth, pearly skin. Groaning again, I threw my other arm over my face and squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to block out everything that was her.

                God I missed her.

                I wallowed on the couch a minute more before finally throwing myself into a sitting position. Keeping my eyes closed shut, I leaned my elbows on my knees and placed my head in my hands as I tried to shove the grogginess from my mind. Another car horn blasted from the street below causing my head to throb painfully. Sighing wearily, I stood up and ran a hand through my unkempt hair as I ambled over to the window.

                New York lay sprawled out in front of me; the skyscrapers reaching for the heavens above my head and the dozens upon dozens of taxi’s hugging the ground at my feet. People rushed by on the sidewalks, all with determined gazes on their faces; they all had somewhere to go, somewhere to be. They all had a purpose.

                “Stop it.” I muttered to myself as I recalled the fact that I had indeed lost my purpose. I pulled the curtains closed with an angry huff.

                I swung my head towards the door as it shook from being pounded on. Grumbling, I picked my way through my messy living room and went to answer the door. Beer bottles clanked as they were knocked to the floor by my uncoordinated and unsteady feet. Yawning loudly, I once again ran a hand through my hair while I opened the door.

                Short and aging, Rosie Yates stood before me in her typical disapproving fashion. Tan skin represented her Hispanic background as did her prominent Spanish accent. Greying hair brushed just beyond her shoulders and intelligent black eyes dotted her slightly wrinkled face. Hands on hips, she scowled at me and shook her head.

                “Jesus, child. Worse every time I come over here.” She griped as she waved her hand at me. I looked down to see myself in a dirty white shirt and striped boxers.