Play Me Sweetheart (Ben Drowned Romance)

Chapter One: Self-Pity

(WARNING: Contains detailed violence, crude language, and drug usage. I do not support any of the actions written.)

I jolt awake with tears already forming in my eyes. Sweat covered my pale skin and my loose shirt sticks to me awkwardly. My heart is pounding as I lay back down on the sheets, my mind going a mile a minute.

That dream is the only one I have that wakes me like this. Stressed, confused, and guilty. Every time I have it, the dream gets more realistic. Like I'm living and repeating the most horrible day of my existence. It's the thing that haunts me at night and as much as I want it to go away, some nights I don't. The only thing keeping me from repressing the dream is the image of her. The final glimpse of her in that moment; so relaxed, so peaceful. I just can't and won't let it go.

I shift to my side and looked over at the nightstand. The red numbers indicated that it was five o'clock in the morning. Not bad compared to my other days, I might at well get ready for work. I sighed and stretched out on the bed before getting up and walking into the bathroom.

As I turn on the shower, I strip down and carefully step in. The hot water hits my skin and I tense up, but slowly relax in the warmth. I reach for the shampoo and scrub myself down. The familiar scent of vanilla fills my nose. I smile slightly at the sweet smell, it's always been my favorite shampoo. It reminds me of my mother, the way she always used the scent around the house. I guess it kind of stuck to me after I moved out. I washed the soap away and twisted the handle of the shower. The pipes groaned before shutting off and I stepped out, fetching the towel on the rack. Wrapping it securely around my body, I padded into the bedroom.

There was no worry that someone could've saw me. I live alone and there was defiantly no chance of any roommate peaking. Ive always been the independent type of person. Sometimes it benefits me and sometimes it doesn't. Depends on the situation I guess, especially if your handicap-able like me. Then it's frustrating on how much you have to rely on others.

I slide the wooden closest doors open and scan the clothes until I find my work uniform. A black, buttoned down shirt with a stiff collar and some dress pants to match. There was a red label stitched in neat cursive saying: Le Bellé. The restaurant's name speaks for it's self. Classy, pricey, and snobby.

I struggle buttoning down the collar shirt. It's not easy getting used to the fact that your missing an arm, right one to be exact. The car accident took away multiple things from me, but my hope is not one of them. It also opened a new world for me, where I have to fight to get what I want, what I need; to never give up. So there is a little hope that is buried, but not discovered. I've yet lived the day to find it. I'm pushing through it though, the past four months since the crash, and it's made me realize how weak of an individual I am.

"Happy thoughts." I encourage aloud to myself.

I'm standing in the small bathroom and looking into the mirror. There is evident sleep deprivation in my dull blue eyes, the dark circles I try to concealed from reality are really showing, and my hair doesn't do any exceptional support to my appearance as well. I'm a blonde to be exact, but not the pretty kind I want to be. It's sort of a sandy mud color unlike the bright, shiny color of expectation blonde's. My cheeks are a bit narrow and my nose is rounded and small. My ears stick out from the hair I still have and my tail is the same ugly color of blonde. I have always wanted to be normal like the humans, but I'm actually considered normal where I live. The only reason I don't think myself as that is because of my species. You don't find other people like me very easily.

So I guess I'm... Rare? No, not the right word. Odd? That's a little better.

I slip on my black winter coat and head outside, not forgetting to lock the door of course. The cold wind nipped at my nose and cheeks as I made my way down the stairs of the little apartment complex. The ground was layered with a light morning frost, which froze some of the brown and yellow leaves in place. A huge oak tree that stands strong in the middle of the yard has only a few more left before it's bare like the rest in this chilly town in Michigan.