Love Sucks, Blood.

Bloodsuck#1: Bad Luck.

With every rose, there are thorns.

"That'll be $10." Ugly Face, the cashier, said.

"You mean this piece of shít?" I asked her, holding up the box of Ferrero Rochér chocolates.

"Yes," she sang. " 'this piece of shít.' " she mimicked me.

I threw the box on the counter. "Fück you for selling expensive pieces of shít."

"You sure you don't want it?" Ugly Face taunted.

"Not more than wanting to fück you." I barked and stomped my way outside. Ugly Face laughed at my back. I barely cared.

Ten dollars? Really? I'd buy all my monthly groceries in that amount. Maybe because I was poor as shìt but it was true.

I threw a leg over my bike and bent to be in position to ride it. Motorbike. Ehem. I could save money to at least buy one.

Just before I pushed the paddle down, I saw a guy in his teens, gaping at one thing.

My títs.

Asshøle.

Eventhough I was looking at him and he probably knew it, he didn't stop dissecting my cleavage with his eyes.

Then I noticed one more thing.

The bulge in his denims. I couldn't stop myself. I laughed. Such sights had always been fücking hilarious.

Yes. It had happened to me more than ten times this month. So try and understand, I am used to this.

He quickly turned to look at himself, trying to see what I found hilarious. Poor freak ran away after blushing like a girl.

I flipped back some brown strands of my hair back. I put on my helmet. It was my favourite thing.

At the back, it said: 'Wanna Race?' Written in red.

It was all black. I loved black. But I was crazy about red.

I rode on the long road, making my way to one place I went for Christmas; Go Tipsy Bar.

Unexpected as it is, that was the only place where I found family.

I was born in an orphanage. I was later told that one of the doctors had raped a Nun over there, and that she suicided right after I was born. Why didn't she do it before? Well because she had tried her best but never succeeded. The orphanage believed in me. They said I was not to blame for what had happened and that I deserved to live. Priest said I was to be a devil's child. He tried to kill me the night I was born.

Fücker's in jail now for attempted murder.

And that rapist? He got away. But I'll find him. I'll first get him raped in the áss and then I'll throw him in a pool of dogs with rabies.

I parked my baby outside the bar and took off my helmet, shaking my head to level my hair.

"It doesn't turn me on," someone called out. It was a he. "Try harder."

I put my helmet on the handle and ran to him, shouting, "Freddie!" I hugged him hard.

"Welcome home, big gal." His accent was thick and lazy.

"How are you?" I smiled, pulling away.

"Sexîer than last year." He said, lightly pushing my back to get me inside the bar.

I let out a laugh. "Will you ever stop trying?"

"Not until you accept the offer." He smirked at me. He was a blonde guy and was 24. How could I possibly sleep with a guy six whole years younger than me?