Twisted Souls (Edited) 3rd Edition

Chapter 1

The air was warm, smothering hot actually, but Kaya was used to this stifling heat. So, it was warm to her. But she tossed aside her blanket just in case it caused her any harm. No one could afford to get sent to the hospital, especially those with no health care and those who were on the run.

The morning sunrays lit the warehouse she camped in, highlighting the dust motes that danced in the light. Upturned barrels were used as tables and nightstands. One held a busted clock that skipped every four minutes, another was filled with cool water in case a fire broke out. Kaya was used to taking such precautions and would never stop. Those steps have saved her quite a bit since she ran four years today.

With the switch flicked on the rusted coffee maker that leaned against the wall, she set about washing up and getting dressed. Her day job was a-calling, and she couldn't afford to lose this one.

In the back of the warehouse was a hazmat shower, and with some finagling on her part, and a few thefts, it ran smooth and hot—most days. The water warmed her aches in the shoulders and lower back, traveling over the intricate net of scars and tattoos. A bead of water caught in a nasty scar that traversed her spine and over the left butt cheek. The little bead magnified a pale blue iris that swam in a murky white, all of which sat deep in a beautiful white wolf tattoo that took up most of Kaya's back. Along her arms were two sleeve tattoos, each of which meant something different and something profound. One was in honor of the life she was rudely unallowed, that would be the left. Her right was in honor of someone she had betrayed; someone she had lost.

The beep of the coffee machine had Kaya turning off the hazmat shower, where she stood until the last drops of water could be felt. Shaking herself, and releasing the tension in her shoulders momentarily, the native women stepped out and wrapped herself in a tattered baby blue towel lifted from the rundown motel across the rarely packed intersection.

A shot of coffee down her gullet and the uneasiness returned. Four years, she hummed tunelessly at the thought. Four years. A sigh heaved through her dry-cracked lips before she realized. Shaking her head, Kaya dressed in some holed-up black jeans that hugged her high hips and proclaimed her ass to its almighty girth. No tattoo was worth the pain of an ass tat, Kaya thought ruefully as the back of her hand scraped along the scar felt through her lacy underwear. No matter the scar.

As the strangely cut shirt, ripped at the sides and tethered in a crisscross pattern up to the armpit, was forced onto Kaya's head, her braided hair got caught beneath a foot, causing a loud bang to echo as she fell.

She lifted her hair, glaring at the split-ends. Not once had she cut her hair beyond a trim. That meant her hair, in all of its black and dark brown beauty, thick as rope, curled around her body like a protective snake until it brushed the ground. Every week, she undid the fine length, washed the tangling mess, combed it out, and re-braided. Friday night, to say the least, was one Kaya hated and loved.

The walk to the shop she manned the front desk for was uneventful. The beanie hat she unceremoniously stuffed her too long hair in was dark in color, but the color no one could quite describe. It's odd lumps and bulges brought amused glances, but the glowering expression on its owner had the on-lookers turning away.

It's all how it should be, she thought to herself, staring at a set of twin girls that giggled and held hands as they skipped besides their dad. They were across the street as she walked the last block to work. Each twin were freckled, each had dark skin and bright grey eyes; they looked like their father. Their rambunctious laughter caused a small smile to curb Kaya's perpetual glare. It was still on her lips, along with a distant haze in her hazel eyes, as she neared work.

"What's got you so chipper, girl?" Her boss asked when she walked in from the back. The Chicana had dark black hair that was parted on the right and braided in a fishtail and wore her face in a perpetual design of piercings. The haze in Kaya's eyes died and the smile fell.