✧*𝐧𝐲𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚*✧

~☾ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 ☽~

~*☾ 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 ☽*~

The crashing of plates was heard as the never-ending shouts echoed round the solitary house. The cottage was surrounded by fields and woods for miles around, so no neighbours, nor passersby heard what was going on.

With every passing day it just got worse, but the young woman was used to it. Her parents would smash, scream, demolish, burn anything and everything when they were in a rage- and that rage would usually be caused of lack of money for alcohol.

They didn't pay the taxes, didn't buy food, didn't cook, clean, they didn't even have permanent jobs- they only drank permanently. Their anger was usually aimed at their only daughter. She was used to this by now though.

So when today's daily dose of throwing things at her had been fulfilled, she shoved a crate of vodka at them and slammed the door shut. God how she hated that house, but dropping out of school at the age of 17 and not going to university had unabled her to get a better job than at the strip club in the town nearest to her village.

She was a barmaid, serving drinks every night from eight in the evening to three in the morning. She wasn't proud of walking around in the skimpy outfit they made her wear, but she didn't really give a shit- they paid her extra to wear it, so she did. The woman needed the money, so she couldn't exactly be picky when it came to her job.

The girl walked down the dirt path, her house- or the "shack", as she called the house where her poor excuses of parents lived- was a half-an-hour walk from the village. She enjoyed walking, no matter the weather she prefered going on a walk in the rain, than staying at the house where she'd hear screams or smell the constant odour of alcohol, that had by now seeped into the walls and clung to them like a drowning sailor that clinged onto a piece of wood in a storm.

She took out a cigarette and lit it. She knew it was bad for her, she knew it was pretty disgusting to everyone around her- but she was so done with her life, she just honestly couldn't of cared less about anything that people thought of her.

Two cigarettes, twelve cuss words and five missed calls later, the woman arrived at the village. She looked at the shops and relished in the smell of freshly baked cinamon buns, her red painted lips stretching into a small smile. She closed her eyes and embraced the sun's warm rays.

Oh how she loved the sun.

With a marvelously wide range of swear words and extreme pain, she was pulled out of her momentary state of bliss. 

And grabbed by her waist. 

"Shit, you alright?" A deep voice asked her, lightly squeezing her waist.

There was silence.

"You know you can open your eyes now, right?"

She slowly opened them and the rich brown eyes that stared back at her took her breath away, they were staring with such intensity, such wonder at her, that all words disappeared from her dark mind and were replaced with a new-found nothingness, that made her just look at him and admire.

The girl wasn't usually into men, but this guy, he gave her ex girlfriends and boys a run for their money, he was mesmerising- yes, that word was what she would describe him with if her friends asked her about him.

 "Umm, darling, are you okay?" He asked, worry and confusion etched into his face.

"Uh, yeah, s- sorry, I'll, I'll just go, goodbye."