Teach me how to love

Chapter two

My Sugar Daddy
Skye's pov

I threw myself into the booths soft, red leather material. I sighed as I flicked my shoes off, glad to get my sore size five feet out of the gorgeous high heels I had bought the other day. I looked up, to find my best friend shooting daggers at me. Great, I was about to get it.

"Where the hell have you been?" Miya screeched, through gritted teeth. Her hands were clasped together, her knuckles going white. Her red nail varnish almost looked like the colour of her bright, red face.

"The...um the tube train thing...um crashed", I lied, trying not to give myself away. "Yeah, I mean the other train came out of nowhere, and it umm... collided with the other one."

Miya squinted her eyes, confusion written all over her face. "Wait, you don't have to go on the train. This cafe is in walking distance." She tilted her head, trying to figure out what I was hiding. But this was easy for her to do, was we'd known each other since we were in nappies.

Suddenly, realisation covered her face. "Omg, Skye no. Not again. What did I tell you about being a prosti..."

"Miya, shhhh", I told her franticly, waving me hands in panic. I didn't want everyone to know what I did for a living. I looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to what my so-called best friend had blurted out. There was an elderly couple, happily chatting about whatever elderly people talk about. And there was a fit boy, tapping keys on his computer, with a white earbud in his ear. But he seemed too engrossed in the waitresses arse, who was bending over on the table opposite him.

"What did I tell you about selling your body to dirty old men?" Miya whisper-shouted at me. She didn't believe that the job was a good thing to do. I mean, I was not only being paid well, but Andrew, my boss, would mostly assign me really hot guys, who I still keep in contact with.

"There's not dirty old men. I'll have you know that the guy last night was only twenty six", I said, matter of factly.

"Yeah, eight years older than you. That's disgusting!" Miya crinkled her nose up, like she had swallowed some of a spit lemons juice. She always pulled that face when we talked about this subject.

"Yeah, my mum and dad have four years apart", I answered back. I was determined to win this fight, for once. "So your saying that my parents are disgusting." I tried to look hurt. But Miya wasn't fouled.

"But your parents were in love. Your dad doesn't use your mum for sex, just because she's young and smoken hot. At least she's not a prozie." Miya pulled a satisfied face, thinking she had one the battle. She silently sucked the straw from the can of coke, that was placed in front of her on the table. 

Anger boiled through me. Black spots started to cloud my vision. I leaped up, tears threatening to spill. "Yeah, well at least you aren't hated by your father, just because your mother died giving birth to you. At least you have a happy family, and given everything that you want. At least you don't have to live on your own, and earn money, just so you can stay alive and well. Think yourself lucky." With that I stormed out of the little cafe, everyone's eyes watching the drama that had unfolded in front of them.

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Fresh hot tears started to spill down my face, just as I had calmed myself down. After throwing the front door open to my very own flat, I threw my shoes on the floor, and sprinted to my bedroom down the hall. Obviously slamming the door, before bolting for my bedroom.

As soon as I reached my room, I leaped onto my bed and buried my head into my pillow. My tears mixed with the make up I was still wearing from the night before, soaked into my crystal white bedsheets. But I didn't care.

Why did I have to bring my past back up like that? The horrible memories filled my thoughts, as images of my fathers disgusted face, filled my brain. I can remember the pain of his blows on my pale skin.

A fresh batch of tears, soaked my pillow. A loud sob escaped my mouth. I rolled over, so I was staring up at the ceiling. I whipped away at the tears fiercely, after reaching for one of my makeup wipes. No, I thought to myself angrily. This isn't me.

Whipping more make up off my face, I tried to gather myself back up again. Before crumbling back into my pillow, clinging onto my soft, cream coloured teddy, and letting the past come flooding back in.
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I know, sad right. The second chapter is finally finished. Hope you guys liked it.

What are your impressions of Skye now? From a slutty prostitute, to a neglected girl, who feels like her mothers death was all her fault.

Don't forget to vote, comment and share.

Megs xxx