The Psychopath | 18+

1. Journalism

Romana's POV

"Ms.Feretti this is your last straw," the burly man Infront of me gritted. He was warning me for the hundredth time about my misconduct with one of the customers.

I sighed, "I'm sorry sir bu—"

"No but's Romana," he cut me off.

"Now get back to work, were closing soon," I nodded in response and walked out of his office slumped.

If I didn't get myself right, I would get fired and miss my opportunity at getting into my dream job of being a public relations specialist and reporter, so I needed the money.

The men in this night club always seem to have a pick on me! It always ends with me breaking a bottle on one of their heads. Okay maybe it was a bit much and cost Mr. Star thousands but I had to protect myself.

If not me, who else?

I picked up the empty tray I had left prior to walking into the bosses office, the night was slow and only me and a few girls were working. None of which were my friends.

I walked over to the bar and picked up all the empty glasses, then over to the tables to clean. I peeped at my wrist watch and saw that it was getting late and I needed to hurry.

The streets of jersey were not friendly to those who seem to idle on it. So I quickly picked up the rest of the glasses and washed them clean. I grabbed my old gym bag and changed out of my work clothes, which consist of: A short pleated skirt, and a skimpy tank top that showed way too much cleavage.

"No wonder you always get unwanted attention," I muttered to myself picking my bag up with aggression.

Just like any other night, I walked out of scarlet stars scratch free and not fired. I walked the lonely streets with a quick Pace, nearing my apartment with each step.

These nights never fail to give me the creeps. The subtle shadows, moving figures in the alley way and eyes—those were the creepy ones—The feeling of someone watching you.

I pulled out my key as I neared the building and picked up speed just a tad bit more. I put the keys in the lock upon arrival, the thing slipping out of my hand like some damn horror movie.

I threw my hands up in the air "great," I said.

Harsh breaths left my mouth as I scooped it up off the floor. It finally went into the key hole and a sigh of relief escaped me as soon as I entered.

I hadn't reached my door yet but I was off the street.

I lived in a somewhat okay apartment building, not the safest part of town but better than nothing, I was grateful.

The landlord offered me a discount on rent which I quickly accepted as a broke twenty three year old. However, it was under the circumstances of which I had to deliver every single piece of package that was sent to him.

"Oh romana, I am an old man..tired," tired is what he called it but I called it lazy. That man went to a bar every night, that doesn't seem like a tired old man to me, but who am I to judge.

I pushed the door to my apartment and went inside, darkness engulfed me and I quickly searched for the switch.

I hated the darkness, it scares me. It takes away your sense of sight and forces you to act upon instinct and my instincts were shit.

My home was cozy; I had a little couch, a one man food table, a small TV, internet, my bed and, yeah that's about it, oh and a small fridge.

Then there was the kitchen area.