Monday, September 2, 2013

Unedited Prologue


“It just isn't going to work out. Ya know, long term.” Daniel looked me in the eye. His emerald green eyes I had fallen in love with during our college English class told a different story. It wasn't about the future, or the fact that we came from much too different backgrounds. There was someone else. I could sense it in the way he fucked me. The passion that had once been carnal was just... missing.
I rolled my eyes at him and chucked up two fingers in the peace sign, “Deuces, Daniel. Get your shit, and get the fuck out.” I couldn't let him see that I cared. I couldn't allow him the satisfaction of knowing my heart was breaking. I couldn't let him see me weak. I didn't let anyone see it. 

“Seven, let's talk about this.” He wrapped his muscular pale arm around my waist as I tried to move across the kitchen section of my thrift shop nightmare, studio apartment. I pulled away with such force that I tripped over my own bare feet. “There isn't anything to talk about. I just want you to go.” I grabbed his overpriced black leather jacket off the couch and threw it at his face with everything I had. Before contact, his arm caught it in mid-air. I was pissed. I needed him to hurt just as bad as I did. 

He reached for the door, without looking back. A single tear started to form in my eye, and rage began to take over. My new instant determinations was to hurt this bastard the way he had just crushed me. 

“You were a shitty lay anyways,” I screamed at him. 

The door closed without an ounce of reaction from Daniel; it was amazing how he could just turn off his emotions. Erupting in a fit of rage, I threw my platform stilettos at the worn white door. When that didn't make me feel any better, I went rummaging through my cabinet in search of something with more meaning. Then I saw it. The vase. Sparkling and full of the memory of our first anniversary together. He had bought me a dozen multi-colored roses, knowing I could never pick my favorite color when it came to the beautiful flowers. With purpose, I lifted it, hurling it across the tiny space and watching it shatter into a million sharp pieces. 

There is no fucking way I am cleaning that up right now. 

My bare feet pattered across the black and white tiled floor to the closet-sized bathroom. Once inside, I cranked the shower as hot as the old pipes in my building would supply. Cold water poured as I stripped, starting with the plain white t-shirt that barely covered my tattooed stomach. I tugged at my yoga pants and thong, kicking them into a messy pile on the bathroom floor. I stood naked in front of the full-length mirror that I kept on the back of the cheap wooden door. 

Steam rose from the shower, signaling that it was finally warm. I broke away from the staring contest I was having with myself in the mirror. Or should I say silently pointing out every last flaw I have? Ever reason Daniel wouldn't want to be with me was there. Was it my scars? The tattoos I used to cover them up? Was it the fact that I wasn't a perfect size zero? Or maybe it was just the fact that my life was simply fucked up. I didn't have the purebred pedigree his parents wanted for his bride. 

My hard exterior had always been a front. Seven, the emotionally unavailable nomad, had finally opened herself up to another living soul, only to be trampled to pieces. Only once in my life had I experienced true heartbreak, from my own parents. The loss of Daniel stung just as bad. I cared more than I would ever admit. I let my walls down for him, and he took advantage of that. 

Well, marriage wasn't in my plans anyway. So suck on that, asshole! 

What was in my plan? Fucking taking over the world! Gone would be Seven, the broken daughter of nomad hippies. Losers who couldn't nail down a job if handed a hammer and nail. I had become everything they hated about society. But their biggest problem with me was the fact that I had actually obtained a college education. While most parents encourage their children to take the SAT's and apply to colleges, I had to sneak behind their backs to better myself.

© 2013 Author Dawn Robertson.

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