𝐔𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: "𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬"

Chapter 3: Saturday Scaries

I woke up in my upstairs loft, not feeling the same way that I always have every morning since I've been able to recall memories. That was back when I was still a normal girl who couldn't burn holes through chain link fences. I arose from my queen sized bed, flipping the light pink comforter off of my body, the morning chill brushing against my warm skin.

One thing that remained a constant in my mornings was seeing my white bookcases filled with big, gleaming tiaras and assorted colored sashes that all began with "miss" and ended with a year that was bedazzled with silver sequins. My head began to spin in circles as I walked towards my full length mirror that was sitting next to my dresser and I covered my eyes with my warm hands, allowing muscle memory to guide me to my desired destination.

I expected to see white hair and eyes as blue as the ocean, but the Monroe I've known for sixteen years was staring back at me through the glass. Messy, honey blonde, hair, chocolate brown eyes, pale skin, a tall frame, and athletic build was there. I let out a sigh of relief and headed to the bathroom to perform my morning routine, allowing some normality back in my life.

The scent of espresso filled my senses and I saw my mom standing in front of her coffee machine, tapping her white-tipped acrylics against the black and white marble countertop, patiently awaiting her morning treat. "Good morning, Monroe. How's my sweet girl doing?", she said as she walked towards me planting a kiss on the forehead and cradling both of her frail hands around my face.

"Tired. Do we still have any ibuprofen?" "We should. Unless your dad took the bottle to keep with him at work. You know how stressed he gets." Celeste was fully dressed, even in the early hours of the morning in a white chiffon blouse paired with black and white striped dress pants and silver jewelry adorned around her wrists and hanging in her earlobes. Her blonde hair was flowing freely down to her shoulders, straightened to exceed length.

I rummaged around the black cabinets, blindly grasping for the medicine bottle. "Why aren't you dressed yet?", Said my mom while dropping in the smallest amounts of almond milk and particles of sugar into her "Pageant Mom" coffee mug. "Mom, it's like, 7:00 A.M. I had a long day yesterday."

"Check the time." I emptied the three remaining pills and into my hand before taking a quick peek at the microwave clock. It read 11:13 A.M. "Violet called you three times earlier today. She left a text message that said she wanted to go look for homecoming dresses at "Brandy's" and then have lunch afterwards." Before I could even respond like the moody teenage girl I was regarding my mom rummaging through my phone, I focused on what I could recall from the game last night.

Some part of me wanted to forget about David showing up to the football field with a handmade sign asking me to go to the school dance with him and kissing me to prove to not only the school, but to both of our parents that he could, and will do whatever he wants and get rewarded for it.

"That sounds fun. I'll message her back and get ready to go." My words felt limited this morning as my head still felt like it was being hit against a brick wall repeatedly, my body feeling as light and feathery as the air I breathe. "Lauren sent me some of the pictures from last night. I could send them to you if you're interested." I didn't stop progressing up the stairs and yelled back, my echoed voice carrying the "No thanks" down to Celeste.

"It's so hard trying to find anything to wear that isn't holographic or neon", said Violet with a disgusted look on her face as she sorted through the racks at "Brandy's" dress shop. "Oh I know, it's so, so, difficult being a picky person." She let out an animated sounding shock and playfully slapped my shoulder.

"I wish the brand gave me a going out dress in my PR package. But no, they just, 'had' to send me all coats and scarves." I nodded in agreement as I picked dresses off of the racks and then placed them back where I found them after seeing a design or a style of dress that I didn't like. "Yeah they probably want you to post pictures for the fall. Fashion trends are starting to gear towards the "New York look" with basic darks and angled sunglasses."

The girl grabbed a lilac and an emerald green dress that would compliment her black hair and olive-toned complexion. "One of these days I'll be scooped off of the internet and onto a runway. I'm tired of taking pictures in public with a ring light and having to post every weekend in the clothes brands send me." "I believe that you can do it. Rome wasn't built in a day." Violet laughed softly to herself and handed me a few dress options that she found and into my arms and said, "Are any of these David's favorite colors?"

I looked down at the options that Violet handed to me that were orange, blue, and red. "His favorite color is yellow", I said with almost disgust. She showed the same reaction and told me, "You're too pale for that. Go try those on and tell me how you feel about them."

Violet and I ended up leaving the store to head off to the bistro after an unsuccessful shopping trip. As of right now, I'm heading down the sidewalk, the sound of the New York City streets loud and untamed, and Violet's horror story from a boy she was talking to was enough to overstimulate my senses. My head was throbbing and I was beginning to feel dizzy once more.

But the World was stopped when I felt an unfamiliar hand grasp tightly around my blonde locks, pulling me backwards with great force. The cars seemed to be moving slower and the silence was getting louder and quieter at the same time. Hot breath caressed my ear and the words were mumbled as I wrapped my hands around his wrist, digging my nails into his skin, the sensation of snaps vibrating against my fingertips.

A high pitched wail was released from the attackers mouth before I turned around to see the face of whomever was harming me. His face was older, possibly middle aged, with salt and pepper colored hair and small wrinkle indents embedded in his skin to show his years of life.

The man's mouth remained gaping open as I lifted my leg, my chunky white sneakers planted into his stomach. One kick sent him straight into the worn concrete leaving behind bits of rock and dust surrounding his body.

I attempted to leave him alone for the New York City police to scoop up, but he was quick to sink his uneven teeth into the space of uncovered ankle under my jean cuff.

To respond to that reaction, I bent down to his level and wrapped my hands around his neck to force him to release his grip on my skin. But instead of just putting pressure on the area, a blue color filled my veins from my fingers up to my arms, the heat building up in the palms of my hands that rested on the man's throat. The feeling was powerful as the blue spilled out and flowed to his neck, creating a steaming effect.

I quickly pulled my hands off of his throat and turned around to see a New York City that was quiet, calm, and completely still. The cars were at a stop, people walking across sidewalks were frozen in the position they were last in, with not even a cloud in the sky rolling by.

"Go away...please go away..." The attacker was still on the ground in a fetal position, grasping at his wounds as I tried to get a hold of what was currently happening. "Leave me alone..." His screams were just getting louder by every second that passed by in this fake reality. My breathing was getting heavier, making it easier for me to panic. "GO AWAY! LEAVE ME BE!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, tears rolling down my cheeks, my voice breaking in the middle of my emotional release. With my final shout, the blue forcefield that was holding everyone hostage was released with small crackles that fell to the ground, allowing the World to begin again as if nothing had ever happened.

"Monroe? Are you even listening?" I looked to my left to see Violet with her arms crossed over her black turtleneck. "Yeah. You- you said that- um, you said that- he asked you fo-for a picture." She inhaled a sharp breath before looking at the middle-aged man still rocking back and forth to comfort him and continuously releasing his cries of stress and anguish waiting for someone to come and save him.

"This is why you can't trust the city police here. They never do anything about the homeless drug addicts that sit on the streets." Violet placed a caring hand around my shoulders and redirected my steps forward in the direction of the bistro.

"Another heroin addict. Look at the welts on that guy's neck", "Must've run out of veins on his arms", were the common phrases I heard as my friend and I walked farther and farther away from a problem that I caused. "Where's a hero when you need one?"