"somewhere along the way my sadness turned into bitterness."
Out of the blue by Julian Casablancas.

Thump thump thump

It feels hard to differentiate between the cluttered beat of my heart and the artless, inharmonious beats that blare through the multiple head speakers. Hell, it feels hard to breathe. My pride has always been earthshaking and now it's being shaken. I keep begging the earth to split and swallow me whole and never spit me out again.

However, I gather my courage and face him, the one who keeps haunting me, or is it me that haunts him?

My hands are clenched around each side of the metallic tray that carries a dozen glasses filled with every blue liquor you can imagine. I try to keep them steady and fail. My hands are trembling and the smirk that takes over his face informs me that he noticed.

"Stalking me?" I mentally slap myself when it comes out as a splutter.

His eyes glint with mischief, looking dark under the blurry lights. "I didn't know you worked here" the way he says "here" makes it sound like a foul word, like it's something i should be ashamed of. His eyes take in my skimpy outfit, openly checking me out and i suddenly feel naked in the soft and thin material of my white tank top and the tiny red shorts that barely cover my backside. "Nice.." He drawls in a sultry voice and it sends a shiver down my spine. "Candy." his eyes finally meet mine. Has he been drinking already?

Wait. Did he just call me Candy? The two syllables roll off his tongue in a very alluring way, and ridiculous as it is, I want him to call me that again.

I clear my throat, "Actually, It's Candice, and I don't see a reason for you to know." I shrug a shoulder, feigning nonchalance.

"Ashamed, Candy?" He emphasizes and one side of his mouth quirks up in mockery.

My heart skips a beat. Where is this conversation going?

"Of what, Dylan?" My voice hardens.

His eyes widen for a moment on hearing me saying his name. "Hmm.." He crosses his arms, looking thoughtful. "Maybe of working in this shithole." He shrugs, surveying the whole place before his eyes land on me once more, piercing and inspecting. "Or maybe for looking like a slut?"

I don't know why the word slut gets to me. I hear it all the time from the drunken assholes who inhabit this place and it never fazes me anymore. But hearing him referring to me as a slut makes me feel like one and suddenly, all that matters to me right now is to hurt him so bad.

"Is that so?" I raise a questioning eyebrow. "and what are you doing in this shithole? Mourning the death of your girlfriend? "

Did I just say that?

I look at him and wait for the storm to strike. His face is blank and void of any emotion. I hate how emotionless his face gets. I'd pay all I have to get a glimpse of what's on his mind right now.

The first response I get from him is a step closer. I respond with another, but mine is in the opposite direction. He keeps advancing, his eyes stormy yet blank, and I keep withdrawing like the coward I am until my back hits a stool. I have no place to go and he knows it. I pull the tray against my chest, afraid it would spill and lead to me being fired, or worse, humiliated. Or maybe, ironic as it is, I put it there to protect me.

He stops right in front of me. The front of his footwear touching mine. His tall figure towering over mine, making me feel so small and fragile, so vulnerable, yet i don't dare avert my eyes. His eyes have taken mine captive and they no longer have the freewill to navigate somewhere else until he gives them permission.

He raises a hand to my face and I don't stop it, instead, I close my eyes, expecting a strike to land across my cheek anytime now, but it never comes. Instead he pulls a stray that has escaped my ponytail behind my ear. I open my eyes, bewildered at his sudden affection, but my bewilderment doesn't stay long. I feel it before I see it, coldness coating my tummy. The cold liquor drenches my tee, causing the thin material to stick to my figure and the glasses to land onto the floor with a crash.

The asshole shoved the tray at me.

"Careful, Candy or you may be eaten." a shiver runs down my spine. The words are spoken with a calm tone but the threat beyond it is present. Just like that, he swerves and heads toward a table where his friends - his folks - are seated and gawking at me, just like everyone else in this malevolent room.

My eyes sting with unshed, fiery tears, but I do my best to fight them back. I will not give him or anyone else the satisfaction of seeing me weak and broken. I'm not weak, much less broken.

"Woods," a cold-blooded voice calls my name. I close my eyes briefly and turn to face my boss. His wrinkled, old face is fuming and ballistic, the promise of me losing my job is appallingly outward. "Follow me." he barks and sheers toward his office, leaving me standing there, face red and hands fisted.

Unwillingly, before I follow him, I risk a final glance at Dylan, just to find him staring back at me, an evident smirk is glaring in triumph, disclosing what's on his adverse mind. Careful or you may be eaten.

... ... ... ...

"Cannie dear, I'm off to work. Don't forget to feed Caddie when she wakes up." I raise my eyes from the thin piece of white paper I was drawing on, the cheap coloring materials sprawled all over the wooden table, to meet the the gaze of my mother.

"you found a new job, mom? " I furrow my eyebrows, eyeing the clock on the old, peeling wall. It's 9 pm. What type of work is she headed to?

"yes." her voice hardens in a very unfamiliar way, leaving no chance for me to question her more. "feed her and don't stay up for too long. You have school, or do you want to drop out? " she doesn't even allow me to answer. She leaves the room in no time and after a few seconds, I hear the front door slamming shut.

Suddenly, I hear baby cries filling the whole place with tribulation, mixed with a ringing, haywire tune that i don't recognize.

My head swivels right and left, desperately searching for the source of the agonising sound. My hands fly to my head, pressing hard onto my forehead and temples, trying to get both sounds out of my head.

Her cries escalate and the wild tune never stops intensifying.

Suddenly, a third sound joins in, a ceaseless scream that seems very familiar.

It's mine.

And I wake up.

My gasp is so loud when I open my eyes, meeting a pair of wide green eyes. I stir, my chest heaving in an unbalanced rhythm. My eyes extend to find manicured fingers wrapped around my cell phone. Why is she holding my phone?

"The alarm, I was stopping it. " She answers my unspoken question as she nods carefully, as if treating a little feral child, and then ever so slowly she hands it over.

I take it and try to sit up, causing my head to slam against the wooden headboard. I hiss at the unforeseen pain, rubbing my hand absentmindedly against the aching spot.

It's the first time someone witnesses a breakdown of mine, even when I'm unconscious, and I'm not ready to face it yet.

Finally having my racing heart under control, I gather my courage and look up to meet Hannah's inquiring eyes. Her face is contorted with an emotion i never indulge.

Pity.

I clear my sore throat, aware of the ache my screaming brought on and try to sound normal, "Sorry about that. It really was a horrible nightmare."

She stays calm for a moment, "Candice, it's not the first time I hear you screaming at night. "

Guess it's not the first time after all..

I detest the pity in her voice. It makes me so outrageous. "Sorry again for disturbing you." I gracefully leap out of bed and force my feet into my flip flops, hastily trying to escape the room.

"I know a doctor. " she blurts out in a hushed voice.

I freeze.

She sounds intimidated.
She should be.

"they're just nightmares, Hannah" I sigh, trying to maintain my calmness. "It's not traumatic or anything." I wave my hand in a dismissive manner.

"It was just a suggestion."

I escape into the safety of the bathroom, never responding to her.

My heart is hammering against my rib cage. The stillness I always covet is being put in a nutshell, choking and suffocating me. I didn't want to go there, to sojourn the old ruinous days, the days that have always kept haunting me, and deep down I know that they will never cease. They have become a part of me that I can never exclude, but oh boy do I wish to get rid of them for the rest of my lifetime.

I stare at my reflection in the heart-shaped bathroom mirror, and come face-to-face with a mess of a girl. Her face is contorted with affliction and sweat is trickling down her slightly tanned face, a proof of having a healthy dosage of vitamin D, yet it looks lifeless with her brown hair sticking to it. Her stance is submissive, arms by her sides, unmoving, but what is she submissive to? Memories, or what the future bears?

I ball my hands into fists and aim for the affronting mirror, but then stop halfway, my hands slowly going lax. I don't want my flatmate to suspect that she's living with a psycho under the same roof. She has already seen enough.

Instead, I turn on the shower, stripping leisurely before I step under the streaming water, not even bothering to switch on the hot water instead of the coldness that mercilessly swarms all over me. I can't help the hiss that escapes my mouth the moment the cold water makes direct contact with my scorching hot body, but that's exactly what I need; the shock of it as it slashes across every part of me like a whip.

As my body gets accustomed to it, i find myself deciding to bail out my morning run this time. I'm too emotionally and physically drained that the mere flex of a muscle has become so backbreaking.

... ... ... ...

I didn't quite comprehend the hatred I started to develop toward college, the feeling of asphyxiation that suddenly rushes through me the moment I step a foot in it. Maybe it's because of my previous encounters with Dylan. Oh boy, how I hate him. However, I kind of regret the words I said to him, it's not in my nature to flip out and bark such hateful words to someone, but he managed to get under my skin like no other.

I will never forget the moment I asked my boss for another chance. No, scratch that. I'm beautifying the matter for the sake of my broken ego. I begged. I begged him to let me keep the the job after that disgracing scene. I didn't want to hunt for jobs again, I can't afford the time to do so. Finally, he conceded after deducting the cost of the drinks Dylan showered me with from my salary, and then he deducted some more.

That day, I used the back door when I left, fearing a walk of shame in front of everyone who watched me get humiliated, let alone The Folks.

The rest of the week flew by without any more humiliating incidents, however, I momentarily caught a few glimpses of The Folks as they stood chattering by the coffee house, or as they left in their fancy cars, including the asshole Dylan whom, for some reason, my eyes always sought. Traitors. Sometimes they saw me as well and stared at me with curious eyes, even the captivating gaze of Dylan's that always pierced mine was there, never bearing an emotion, not even the smirk his face held that night, other times, I succeeded in being discreet.

Cowardice has never been my thing, but I didn't want to deal with them so soon, and thankfully, no one of them had a class with me for the rest of the week, until Friday..

I'm occupying a seat in the back of the classroom waiting for Mr. Philips to start his Humanity lecture when I hear her cutting voice.

"Claire." A slim, pale hand is shoved in front of my face, pale pink polish is professionally painted on its long and sharp nails, reserved for clawing.

I'm stunned for a moment before I lift my eyes from the notebook I was staring expressionlessly at, to meet the icy gray eyes of the girl I saw following Dylan the very first day I encountered him. Her substantial auburn hair is mounting over her skinny and almost emaciated body. She looks like a beauty queen, her cold eyes boring into mine, trying to intimidate me.

Surprised? Yes. Scared? Never.

I slip my hand into hers and she gives it a firm shake before I withdraw it. "Candice." my voice is laced with confidence that makes her thin eyebrows raise in a way that is meant to me make uncomfortable before she steps aside and turns to face the brunette with her.

She is shorter than Claire, whose height fits a Victoria's secret model. Her face, for some unknown reason, looks very familiar. Hazel eyes lined with brown eyeliner stare at me with astonished curiosity. Hazel eyes that I remember very well, Dylan's. Is she his sister?

"Alexa." Her voice is much softer than Claire's. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." I nod slowly, bewildered. What can they possibly want from me? Why are The Folks so interested in me? I can't help the confusion that deforms my face.

They take the two seats on my right side when Mr. Philips proceeds, with Claire, unluckily, sitting next to me.

No one utters a single syllable during the whole lecture, but a feeling of uncertainty keeps washing over me.

When the lecture ends and Mr. Philips leaves, everyone starts gathering their stuff, including me. I pull my satchel over my head and move to stand but a hand wraps itself around my wrist, stopping me "Stay away from trouble." the words are spoken with an amount of menace that is meant to make me flinch, but I don't. Her hand tightens around my wrist. The bitch has a vice grip. "And trouble means us."I pull my hand and Claire lets go before she stands and moves swiftly toward the exit muttering "let's go." to Alexa.

Alexa follows her, but not before she glances back at me with sympathy nearly that knocks me off. She looks so much like him, sans his granite expressions. "Sorry." she mutters before she turns her back to me and leaves too.

I sit there, shaken up and finding it hard to decipher what just happened, but that doesn't stop me from digging through my mind for a payback.

Trouble it is, then.

*Apologies for being extremely late. That was a long chapter, wasn't it?

A new chapter will be published each Wednesday. Don't forget to vote and comment your opinions of this one . Have a pleasant day/night.*