Note:: I’m not sure about this chapter… I might remove some parts of it, since it’s not my best chapter…
Three
Jade Morgan Greene
I SET THE empty creamer container in the center of the table, along with the other ten or so. It’s official. I’m addicted to French Vanilla flavored creamer.
I swipe the pile into the trash can conveniently under the table. So you don’t have to get up to throw something away. Feeling guilty, I flick two fifties onto the table and get up to leave. I hear a person gasp, and know Val, the waitress assigned to that table, found my tip. The bell above the door jingles as I leave. I decide to head to the store down the road. They have everything, from clothes to groceries to toys. I enter, and a blast of cold air hits me, making goosebumps appear on my skin. I head to the coffee aisle and pick out some French Vanilla creamer. Might as well have some at home.
I go to check out and check my wallet. I have a hundred. That’s it. I like to use cash rather than my card, but there’s a sign taped to the register saying they don’t accept any bill bigger than a fifty. The clerk scans my box of creamer, suppressing the questioning look I know he must be holding back, and I swipe my card.
I never use a credit card. I don’t like dealing with the crap credit companies give their customers. The clerk smiles and hands me my bag. I nod and exit.
The night air is cool, but not nearly as cold as the air-conditioned store. A gentle breeze makes my hair flow behind me, revealing all the ugly scars on my neck. I don’t bother hiding them, unless I want to wear a turtleneck all the time. I sigh and look around. A few teenagers mingle outside of the diner nearby. A middle-aged man leans against a pole and lifts his phone to his ear. A group of dark figures walk towards me.
The man drops his phone and runs. The teenagers duck inside the diner. I tense. I didn’t know there were gangs here. My hands immediately ball into fists. I try to go into the grocery store, but I am yanked back by my jacket hoodie. I shrug my jacket off and try to run. I’m soon tackled to the ground. My jaw hits the ground first, my arms being pinned to my sides, and stars appear before my eyes. I groan and try to wiggle free of my attacker.
“Not so fast, girly,” a gruff voice growls into my ear. I scream but no help comes. Someone steps onto my back, and I whimper. My back isn’t broken, I know. I have a spine of steel.
I curl into the fetal position as someone continues to kick me. I yelp as the person yanks me up by my hair. I stare into the face of a man with major stubble and a lot of scars. He’s so close, I can feel his breath on my cheek. It smells like alcohol and smoke.
“Hey, girly,” the guy says with an evil smile. His hands reach for the hem of my shirt, and I scream again. This can’t be happening. Why isn’t anyone helping me?
He quickly lifts my shirt and throws it off to the side. I’m in my bra. In front of him and his goons. I shriek as he begins to unbuckle my bra and kick him where it hurts. He grunts and punches me in the stomach.
Suddenly, he’s on the ground screaming. I fall beside him from the pain in my ribs. My bra is hanging limply, and I slowly buckle it back. My vision is blurry from the pain.
My shirt is a few feet away, and it’s only a black blob. I hear grunts and not-so-manly screams, and then all is silent.
A warm hand touches my arm, and I shriek.
“Dude, be quiet,” a male voice whispers in my ear. It is a little raspy, kind of like the man’s, and I scream again. “You sound like I’m trying to rape you.”
“You are,” I reply weakly. Hands grab me and suddenly I’m in the air.
“Let’s get you to the hospital, shall we?” the person asks. I glance over at him through my blurry vision and gasp. No one else has that smile, that brown hair with golden streaks in it, those dark eyes. Oh, my god.
It’s Ace Brown.
Realistic Fiction
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I feel like she’s basically Jessica Jones, but a high school version, sans powers.
So when someone steps on her back, it wasn’t to hold her down, I guess, it was more like someone stomped on her to injure her? That would make sense if someone “continue[d]” to kick her.
I didn’t get a feel for the location. She gets attacked right outside the grocery store (nobody saw? there were teens and a man who ran, but nobody is doing anything to help?) and then runs for like a second before she is taken down. I’d like to know where she is. Does she feel gravel digging into her skin or is there some off-kilter, flickering streetlamp at the mouth of an alley, whatever you think. Some kind of stench that hits her that lets her know she’s by a dumpster. This scene is scary, so load us up with detail!
Great ending, though.