her eyes gave her away
there was a drowning girl
behind that smile

atticus

I might have gained a little energy from my apple and noodles but it didn't give me enough energy to deal with the jerk in the booth. The manager wasn't about and faking it was too much work. Erica was backed up with other tables and I was stuck tending to him.

"The usual?" I tell him flatly in a way of a hello.

Mr. Rude ass, corona-loving and Erica's customer flips the screen of his laptop down, and picks up the menu. "Where's the usual happy girl?"

"She's busy." I tap away on my notepad, maybe he'll get the hint.

"I meant you." He places the menu beside him and leans back into the booth.

The remark catches me off guard. "On holiday." In a world where she's not starving, dealing with an alcoholic mother and sister whose most likely prostituting herself. "What can I get you today?"

"Your name."

"Excuse me?" I furrow my eyebrows. I'm not sure I heard him correctly.

"I'd like to associate a name to a face." He explains.

Why today of all days must he be extra difficult? I'd rather him sit stoney faced downing the drinks and dive himself into oblivion.

"I'm waiting." He says firmly.

The customer is always right.

That is the cardinal rule of hospitality, so whatever the customer wants we are obliged to cater to their whims.

"Angelique." I reply curtly.

"It's nice to meet the real you, I'll have a corona and keep them coming." He bows his head, begins to scroll through his phone and ignores me and that's my cue to leave.

From behind the counter I gather up his order, slipping a sliver of lemon and lime in the top of the bottle all the while his words coming back to me.

What was with the 'real you' comment?

I'm seriously led to believe there isn't something quite right with the this guy. Placing the bottle down in front of him, I nod my head and begin to walk of.

"Angelique." His firm voice stops me in my tracks.

I turn around. "Yes, sir?"

"Do I look fifty to you?" He inquires.

I really don't need this today, I'm running on empty and like a petrol tank I feel my brain ticking warning me to fuel up or I'll run out of fuel. It's funny how vehicles and the human body are similar. If we don't take care of it then we'll eventually end up in a rusted heap left to wither up and gather dust and rust.

"No." I breathe out. The onset of a headache is coming on and I roll my head around.

"Thank-you." He holds up his drink and just like that I'm dismissed. Again.

After six bottles and a few hours later the drunkard leaves, and I'm glad to see the back of him. Why doesn't he just go to the bottle shop and drink at home? Not that it's any of my business but it would be a hell of a lot cheaper and I know I'd be more comfortable in the confines of my own home. Well not mine per se but surely his home live can't be as screwed up as mine.

Despite his scruffy appearance his clothes allude to the fact he had money. Then again, who am I to judge a persons characters.

Image is nothing, a carefully constructed puzzle to trick others into thinking you are something that you're not.

Locking up the cafe I have a plastic container of mushroom risotto hanging from a plastic bag at my wrist. While waiting for my bus I unpeel the plastic lid and wave away the steam. I'm about to dig in when a light shines brightly in my eyes, and shielding them with my hand I notice the black BMW. He's flickering his high beams on gaining my attention.

My eyes widen as I recognise the car, and I swiftly pack up my precious dinner and quickly hide behind the glass but luck as usual wasn't on my side. The man exited his car and casually strode over to me, swinging his keys around his forefinger. With each step I curled myself into a ball. He's noticed me and the leering expression makes it feels like bugs are crawling all over my skin.

"Angelique." A voice calls out from behind me and I stall, my shitty day from a three to a eight.

I am being accosted by creep number one who'd love nothing better than feel me up, and creep number two who is a drunkard and god knows what personality I'll get. So far I've only see a small glimpse of each.

I glimpse over my shoulder just as creep number two reaches me. "Do we have a problem here?" He directs the question to creep number one.

"Just after a good time, told you I'll be back." Creep number one has the audacity to say, his lifts tilted up in a disgusting smirk. My stomach churns as he steps forward. "Ain't that right pretty girl?"

This was what you'd call stuck between a rock and a hard place, I want to bunch up all the stupid mistakes I've done and crawl up in a ball and die. This way nobody is stuck picking up the pieces of shrivelled errors I'm managing to accumulate on a daily basis.

I'm frozen on the spot, my nerves had been given a severe jab injected with anesthetic. If worse comes to worse I'll just switch off my emotions and let the horrible things happen. I'm not a fighter, and from experience I've learnt that if you fight back the male loves it even more.

"You can fuck off now, the pretty girl is with me." The drunkard tells creep number one.

"Hey, hey we can share." Creep number one licks his lips and I resist to regurgitate.

I'm all but pushed behind the drunkard as his rolls up his sleeves, cracks his knuckles and neck from side to side and stalks forward. "I'd stay clear of her if you know what's good for you." Drunkard growls out.

Creep number one looks between us and spits through his teeth. "You stupid whore, you aren't worth it." He rips the door of his BMW and slams it before skidding away in a dramatic fashion.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

I wait until the BMW is out of sight and jolt myself into action. I towards the drunkard and nod my head. "Umm, thank you." I glance at my watch and groan at the fact it'll be twenty minutes until the next bus comes.

Should I risk it and walk home?

I perch myself on the cold, metal seat and wrap my arms around myself to keep myself warm, staring at my poor dinner. It isn't long before the drunkard joins me.

"You should really be careful, lots of crazies out there." He tilts his lips to the side in a solemn smile, slinging his hands deep into the pocket of his jeans. It's the first time I'm able to witness clarity in those blue orbs of his, and come to the realisation that he is completely sober.

I move along for him and we sit in an indefinite time in silence, my mind on how I got to this point. I'm scared I've created a domino effect, one small mistake as a child had caused my life to take an alternate route.

It's not my fault. I was touched. I was broken. I try to convince myself but the dirt won't come off. It has stained my soul.

That's why uncle had his brains blown out. That's why daddy was taken away. You're a disgusting, dirty little girl. My mother blames me for all the bad things that has happened in our lives.

Snapping out of my inner torment I follow the mans' gaze. It is fixated ahead at the park where I've seen him before on multiple occasions. The expression is an all too familiar one, I call it the train-wreck. It's when you witness something and it hurts to look at it because it reminds you of the past, but it hurts not to. Maybe I'm wrong about it, but it's the same I got whenever I had to visit my uncles house.

"You don't have to stay, I'll be fine now." I tell him unconvincingly swinging my legs, but I'm met with more silence.

"I'll make sure you get on the bus safely." He briefly turns to face me taking in a deep breath. "My name is James, just in case you're wondering."

Dear Diary,

Well today was one to remember and I'm not completely sure if that's a good thing or not. It started off on a low note having to cater to the drunkard's order. Yes, I've named him that because in all honesty a person who drinks all day is a drunk. A perfect example is my mother.

After he left the rest of the day passed by in a blur as I was in a daze going through the motions. It was too busy to stop and have lunch, Daniel made me a bowl of fries but when I had the chance to take a break they'd gone stone cold. I still ate it though, beggars can't be choosers and I refuse any food to go to waste. It's amazing Erica can find the time to take smoko's or indulge in her over-sexed libido.

The creep with the BMW made an impromptu stop in but in a strange twist of events the drunkard aka James came to the rescue. I think I might be wrong about him, the whole being an alcoholic and all. I shouldn't be curious but his piqued my interest. Why is the park such a fascination for him? He looks at it as if he's mourning it. Did something happen there?

Ugh I shouldn't even care. There are more important things to worry about than some stranger, such as Katherine. Tonight whilst coming out of the shower I notice hickey's on her neck, as well as bruises on her upper arm like she's been grabbed.

I'm scared for her, how can I save her if she doesn't want to be saved?

If she leaves me I'm afraid I'm be all alone.

Why can't things go right for once?

Maybe tomorrow will be better, wish me luck diary.

Authors Notes

Hey people, how is everyone enjoying the story? I know it's quite sad but things will start to look up.

Comment/vote/follow

❤️ Jacklyn