Chapter 1 - Have you loved?

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TW: This story contains serious topics such as substance abuse, violence, rape.

I walked into the club and the smell of expensive liquor lingered to the entrance.
Tonight I was wearing a red dress, hugging every curve of my body. My hair was loose and free just like how I was feeling this night, I had just been evicted and wanted to spend my last dollar at cobra club because hey what's the point in feeling sorry for myself when I can feel better, even if it lasts only a few hours.
I walked to the bar and asked for my go to drink.
"Uh I'll have a ice vodka.." I asked the man with a apron and gum in the side of his mouth. He passed it to me without a word, he was too busy to make conversation.
I sat on a stool sipping a straw like a complete loser, I had no friends, however I preferred it remained that way. People are too unpredictable to trust: I guess that's from my troubled childhood of being in Foster care.

A group of men in dark leather jackets, along with patchwork of detailed cobras on their backs walked in. They had an effect on every girl in the room, apart from me. I was good observing. After awhile of the girl's loosing their composure for these men, the desperation had ended. One guy in particular has every females eyes on him.

His hair was pushed back and his eyes were a brown amber, he was 6'5 and had a muscular figure. It made sense for every girl to want him.

"Let me buy you a drink darlin'." His Brooklyn deep accent had a big presence as he smoked his cigar.

"No I'm perfectly fine, thanks." I replied, I didn't feel the need to give him what he wanted.

"Your not fine though are you?" He was intrigued to know why I had such a sad, guarded, exterior and he sat on a stool beside me.

"I've always had too much going on in my life. I can't remember the last time I felt genuinely content." I grabbed my glass of alcohol immediately, taking a big gulp.

"You can never feel content. Life isn't supposed to be comfortable, you have to experience trials and errors for it to be content. Look at old couples eh, they are the ones who are content. It's only until humans are close to departure from earth, they start to properly love." He said this intently. Grabbing his glass of bitter Canadian whisky the bar guy knowingly gave.

Surprisingly this man was right, every word was right. He was wiser then he looked. The outside looked young and full of immature mistakes, whereas when he spoke - it seemed he had lived many life's. I was quiet after he spoke those words, still thinking about what I could do to 'properly love' as he said.

"So have you loved? If you don't mind me asking." I took the straw out my mouth turning towards him.

"Of course I have. Most have. But it wasn't real. Her feelings for me and mine for her weren't honest ; I don't think I have loved..." He paused in realisation zoning out for a second or two. So he hasn't loved.

"Have you?" The conversation quickly moved to my life experiences.

"Yes but no. I did love him but he left me distraught to the point where I lost my mind. I couldn't bear it." Even talking about him made me feel nauseous, the way he he made me feel was like torture. I hated to think about him. Why the fuck was I?

"You don't have to talk about him, I can see it pains you." He smoked again. His confidence was unmissable, despite his personal questions - I felt I could answer every one of them.

"People think heartbreak is hurt. He hurt me more than that, he was abusive both mentally and physically. Mostly mentally. He destroyed my self confidence, I know you see me in this skimpy tight dress tonight but I wore it because I have no cares and wanted a drink. I've had a rough couple of months and could use both assets." I then drank again, washing each word I'd just said away like they were non existent. Disposable.

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