Fatal Flaws

Chapter 3

I'm halfway through unpacking one of my suitcases when I hear the faint jingle of keys at the door. I hold my breath as the door slowly creaks open.

"Hey roommate, I'm Skylar," the girl squeals, rushing towards me. Without warning, she embraces me in a giant bear hug. Her thin, frail arms wrap tightly around my upper body. A powerful scent of vanilla overpowers me. I can taste it in my mouth with each breath I inhale.

After several long awkward minutes, she releases me, stepping back a few inches.

I pay close attention to her while her eyes scan up and down my entire body. She's studying me, taking in all my features. I do the same.

I'm surprised by her appearance. Skylar is not at all what I was expecting. I thought for sure she was going to be one of those girls who hate everyone. The ones who walk around with smug looks on their faces. They talk down on everyone, belittling them. Overall, someone who acts better than everyone else.

There were a couple of girls like that back home. They would only dress in all black with facial piercings and tattoos. The main thing I remember about them was that they never smiled. I only saw them speak to each other, never to anyone outside of their little clique. Most people avoided them as much as the group pretended the rest of the world didn't exist.

To my surprise, she isn't anything like that. She seems genuinely sweet.

On top of the fact she has a pleasant personality so far, she is drop-dead gorgeous.

Her shiny straight jet black hair falls right below her shoulders. The ends curl up slightly towards her jaw, which helps to shape her face. Compared to me, her skin is on the paler side. It's smooth and flawless, like a porcelain doll.

A tight black suede mini skirt hugs her wide hips. The black halter top she's wearing barely covers her large, firm breast. She completes her outfit with a set of black fishnet stockings. Which disappear down into a pair of black laced combat boots.

Her most unique feature is her eyes. They're piercing blue with a small hint of darkness residing in them.

"It's nice to meet you, I'm Bex." I smile back, trying to hide the fact that I am super intimidated by her beauty. I'm almost in a trance, following her with my eyes as she walks over to her nightstand. She carries herself with such ease. Each step appears as though she is prancing through a bed of clouds.

Her arm holds her breast snugly in place while she bends down to open the drawer. As she rummages through it, you can hear various objects clang around.

"I hope you don't mind. I like to smoke sometimes. It helps me to concentrate, and it eases my nerves," she says, retrieving a blunt out and closing the drawer.

"You can hit it if you want?" she asks. A sly grin spreads across her face, showing off her perfectly straight white teeth.

She uses her free hand to fish out a small pink lighter from her bra. The lighter clicks twice before the flame erupts, lighting the blunt.

How can someone look so graceful sitting there, smoking weed? A large dark cloud of smoke escapes her lips while she exhales, before offering it to me.

I haven't touched any kind of drugs in the last few years. It wasn't like I was a hard-core druggie, but I did enjoy being high. Whether it was marijuana or pills, I even dabbled in cocaine a few times. I wasn't shy. This led to some of my actions in the past. Which, in turn, gave me the reputation that I have.

I worked hard to get sober. It was a long painful struggle, and still is every day. Addiction runs deep in my family. Many of my distant relatives are addicts or in recovery. If I hadn't changed my life when I did, I don't know where I would be today. Maybe dead or strung out on harder substances. The group of people I chose to be around was not the best. I had to start over from scratch.