Mature. Viewer Discretion is advised.
*The people inside of this work are FACE-CLAIMS. This has no correlation to any IRL individual.*
*This is messy plot. Made when I was a teen. Beware.*
The story of a young woman who finds her style, self worth...
"I'll be your best friend and you'll be my Valentine..." ♫ Big girls don't cry by Fergie.
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"Stevie Nicks or Debbie Harry?"
The dead, barren, wasteland of my shift at GroovyRoad on a Friday afternoon was interrupted by two familiar ring-clad hands slamming down two vinyl records onto the checkout counter. My eyes flicked up from my Cosmopolitan magazine to see two green eyes and a bruise kissed face.
"Stevie."
Did I know why he was asking me such a question? No. Did I know why he was there? No. But, I felt inclined to play along because he was so pathetic and desperate for my attention. He had been for the past week.
After my visit with him at the hospital the previous weekend, Harlow had taken up texting me. Non. Stop.
At first, it was sort of funny.
Bitch Boy: You didn't dress up as a nurse and I hope you know, I'm getting sicker because of it. You're the only one who can save me. Plz. Cough cough.
He would send one text only every few hours, making some weird joke or asking me how my day was, it was irritating but... on occasion, it'd make me smile.
Then, when he found out he had to stay in the hospital because of some infection from road rash on his arm that the doctors wanted to watch, he started to go a little nuts.
Bitch Boy: I have to stay for longer. I might have an infection. It needs some type of prescription cream and in order for it to heal properly, the doctor also says I need a hot kiss on the mouth from a hot girl.
Bitch Boy: He also said it has to have tongue. Maybe light choking.
Bitch Boy: If you don't come by sundown, my nurse, Gretchen will have to step in. I should warn you, she's hot. She's about fifty six with ass for days.
This continued with him talking in detail about him and Gretchen's' kiss because I didn't show up. He described it like an erotica writer described it, using words like 'moist lips' and 'sensual, seductive tongue.' He wrote a whole novel in my messages.
I had to block him to get any work done.
So, of course, he started leaving messages on my home phone answering machine, talking about all the things he saw outside of his window and how pissed he was that there was no more cherry jello left in the cafeteria.
He was bored out of his mind.
They stopped on the last day he was there, but that was because the nurse had him running from test to test to make sure he was all clear. According to Niko.
A day free of him was all I got. He was back and out in society again. Ready to terrorize me with his charm.
"Scary movies or romantic comedies?" He pressed on.
