The Tax Collector (girlxintersex) book 2 SAMPLE

Chapter 1

Chapter 1/book 2
Lucia Diaz POV
4 months later

I gazed at the blank printed sheet. I was holding a pen in one hand and my thoughts in the other, trying to remember how to spell my name. I recall my name. It's Lucia Diaz. I recall the day I was born. I could recall all of this, but I couldn't seem to hold the pen in my shaky, itching hands.

I need more...My high was fading out, leaving nothing but nightmares. I need to smile again. I wandered the streets with a straight face all day, until I saw someone, or should I say her, Blanca. She is also homeless, and together we had each other. She offered me a taste. The taste of happy dosages.
I loved it. It makes me happy, and it didn't take long before I craved it over everything else.

I crave it more than food. My taste buds developed an appetite for it.

I pounded the pen against my hot fingertips. How do I spell my name? How to even spell something. Although I was having fun, it had to stop abruptly.

It felt as if a stone had struck me in the head. I realized I couldn't survive on the streets forever and needed to return to Mexico. Back where I belong. I was no longer convinced on the American ideal. My eyes have awakened to reality.

"Listen, Ma'am, we need your name, phone number, last address, and last known person to notify them of your deportation."

I smiled, "Please, I just need some time to think." I wasn't sure how I ended myself in an immigration office. Well, I know. My feet certainly led me here, and when I looked down at my feet for a few seconds, I was appalled by the blisters. My slippers were worn out on my feet. It had left me alone during my trek.

And whatever little money I have has to go towards the most essential thing: happy dosages. I must have it. And now I need more. My fingers sank into the circular, crimson spot on the needle mark that tattooed on my skin.

"I want to go home. I have no one here." I grinned. Whatever occurred, the smile would not leave my face. When I initially tried happy dosages, I discovered the ability to smile. It was as simple as rubbing it on the gum. It numbs my entire body. But it felt so lovely. I wanted more straight away.

I had no idea why I was so obsessed with it. But for the past month, maybe years, I've done whatever to maintain the smile on my face. I tried anything to obtain my fix. And I fucking knew that sitting here wasn't going to help me pass the time.

It was not...
It was not assisting me in crossing that darn border or obtaining my fill.

"I need to go." I gritted.

"Ma'am, you cannot leave. You are illegal in this country, and that is a federal felony. You have no identification with you. How did you get over here?"

I smirked and shrugged; I remember how horrible that was. How much I trusted her. And she deceived me, just like everyone else. She wasn't anything extraordinary.

My body shuddered as memories slowly returned. "I...need some money...How about you spare me $5?" I smiled, clutching onto the itch and attempting to pry it from my body. "I only need a 5." My tongue clicked.
"Ma'am, this is a severe offense. If you don't offer us anything, we won't be able to let you pass over, and you might face 30 years to life in jail. That's your damn life, America." He spat. He then taps the blank paper. "Write your friggin name!"

"Its Lucia Diaz..."

"Write it."

"I cannot..." I slammed the pen on the paper. "I only need a little money." I sway back and forth on the sturdy metal chair. I was at an office loaded with files and paper.

"I'll do anything if you just let me go; I need it." I spit, my teeth cutting into my lower lips and drawing blood.

"Fuckin' Mexican." He exhaled. Another worker emerged during his tirade.

"That is r*cist." He touched his shoulder.

"I don't fucking care; they should remain over on their fucking property; now look here, we have this bitch who is high off her fucking head and doesn't know how to write her fucking name." He slapped his fist against the surface and jerked the folders. I grinned while scratching my arms.

"What are you smiling at?" He sneered, scornfully as he cautiously approached my face. "You think that coming here and giving us unnecessary work is humorous, young lady?"

Without losing my grin, I shrugged. "I simply want to go home." The man behind him, dressed almost identically in a white shirt and dark blue slacks, gave him a troubled look.

"You..." He muttered and carefully drew the man away from smothering my face with his hot breath. I smiled at the frightened man.

"Yes, me?"

"You are that missing girl..."

"Missing?" My grin fades as I ask the inquiry. "I am not missing. I simply want to go home now."

"No, you are not going anywhere. The Trapz, or a member of the Trapz, has been seeking for you. Months now."

"What the heck are you saying?" The irate guy said. He looked ready to throw me in prison.

"There is a woman; she has been seeking for her."

"Well, that doesn't mean she won't be rotting in a jail. Go grab the dang cuff; one less alien, plenty more to go."
"Get your head out of your asshole. Billy, we touched this girl and we're dead. It makes no difference if we are covered with government armor. That girl must return to their hands."

"Who?" I dumbly asked. I'm aware of The Trapz; they effectively dominate these streets, from narcotics to commerce. They are familiar with the art of dabbling. But who from The Trapz, would be looking for me, of all person?

"Valéntino Rodriguez."