Bringing back Rain

"Go home girl." My smile vanished when he mentioned home. No way was I going back there. He narrowed his eyes in frustration.
"If your a prostitute, I'm not interested." Now I was offended.
"I'm not a prostitute you asshole!" My jeans weren't even that tight.

A girl trying to survive the hell that is her life and a boy who could make everything better... or way worse.

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5. F I V E | Cupcake?

The second I got home, my mom yelled at me because of the mess the apartment was in. As if it were my fault. I knew better than to talk back to her though. Sighing, I started my journey to find cleaning supplies which by itself was a task that took at least half an hour. When I finally found them I readied myself before attacking the place with a vacuum, a mop and all the other cleaning supplies I could find. The apartment really was a mess. It took the entire rest of the day until I was finally done and when I tied up the last few bags of trash it was well after midnight. I really shouldn't go out this late, only drunks and people looking for trouble were out this late. Still, I started this, so I'd finish it as well. Sighing, I picked up all the trash bags and headed out. Nothing disturbed the perfect silence except for my footsteps and the sound of my throwing the garbage in the bins. Now I only had the countless alcohol bottles left that seemed to grow in the living room. The recycling bin for glass bottles were a few blocks down and for a second the stupidity of what I was doing reached my mind but I ignored it. I liked the cold, fresh autumn air and the silence, while a bit threatening, was also kind of refreshing. 
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The loud shattering sound made me flinch. It was still eerily silent except for the empty bottles I was throwing in the recycling container. Every time a new bottle would hit the bottom of the container the silence would be disturbed by the sound of breaking glass. I prayed that I wouldn't draw too much attention to myself and cursed myself for thinking I could just wander around in the sketchier part of town at 2 am in the morning without a problem. Seriously, this was the most non-intentional suicidal thing I had done all week.
"Cupcake?," a disbelieving voice said behind me. I spun around when I heard the familiar voice behind me. Nathan looked stunned, as if he couldn't quite fathom what was going on. I didn't exactly blame him. 
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Hey, no need for unnecessary curse words." I hoped he would just forget his question but of course he didn't. 
"Do you have a death wish or something?" 
"No," the answer came a second to late to be convincing and I saw his eyebrows furrow in confusion. 
"I told you to stay away from places like this. Especially at night," his tone was commanding and he was not at all like the sarcastic boy I had talked to earlier that day. 
"To bad I don't take orders from you," I said trying to sound confident. He only growled, out of frustration or anger I didn't know. I wondered why he seemed to care about me. The first time we met he couldn't have cared less what happened to me. His eyes shifted from my face to the know half empty bag of bottles at my feet. Before I could react he picked up the bag and inspected it's contents. 
"You are a seriously messed up little girl, do you know that?"
"Can't a girl have a harmless party?" I fidgeted under his scrutinizing gaze and wished he would turn his attention elsewhere. 
"Those aren't yours," It was a statement, not a question. I didn't bother with objecting. Instead I asked, "can I get them back now?" Instead of complying he forced the entire bag through the opening of the container before turning back to me. I flinched again when I heard the last bottles hit concrete and shatter into a million pieces. When  I looked at him again I noticed his gun that was once more in his back pocket. I contemplated grabbing it and finishing the plan I had just had a few days ago but for some reason I had no desire to do it now. Instead, I turned away and left. I wasn't surprised when I heard feet hitting asphalt behind me. 
"Why are you out here?" He had an demanding voice that I had trouble dismissing. 
"Throwing away bottles. I thought you saw that."
"At two in the morning in the area with the highest murder rate in town."
"And how do you know so much about the murder rate?" The second the question left my lips I wished I could take it back. The image of his gun came into my mind.
"You don't want to know," he was right, I didn't. I had a pretty good idea though. But for some reason I felt almost safe. Calm even. 
That feeling changed rather quickly when he didn't go away. I really didn't wan't Nathan to know where I lived. 
"Well… goodnight," I said, hoping he would get the hint. He did, I know he did, but he ignored it. My apartment wasn't far away now and I was starting to panic a little. 
"Stop following me!" Even in my ears my voice sounded weak.
"Why would I do that? It's dangerous out here."
"Well, I can manage," another lie he wouldn't believe. By now I was only a few steps away from my front door and I had no idea what to do. 
"I'll call the police if you don't leave me alone," it was an empty threat and like before he didn't believe me but he still stopped walking and grabbed my wrists, forcing me to stop as well. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were slits; I had clearly made him angry. 
"Don't ever threaten me again," he growled. I had wondered if I had imagined the ice cold side of him I had encountered in our first meeting but clearly I hadn't. I tensed, the ridiculous feeling of safety gone. He stared at me for a few seconds more before suddenly releasing my wrists and vanishing down another street. 
My breaths came fast and sounded unnaturally loud. What was wrong with this guy? One second, he wouldn't leave me alone if I begged him and the other he threatens me before leaving me in the middle of the street. 
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My hands were still shaking when I opened the front door to the now moderately clean apartment. My mom was nowhere to be seen but I still crept up the stairs as quietly as I possibly could. I was already halfway up when I heard someone turn around on the crusty old couch in the living room. Only my hand pressed against my already parted lips prevented me from screaming. On the couch slept the creepy guy from earlier this week. At least I hoped he was sleeping. Not wanting to give him the chance to prove me wrong while I still stood on the stairs like a deer in headlights, I quickly tiptoed up the last few steps before nearly sprinting in my room. After double checking that my door was locked and that the key was far away – did that unlocking trick from the movies really work? – I let myself fall onto my bed.
Relief from escaping safely into my room swept through me but instantly it was replaced by fear. What was this guy doing here? Was he a friend of my mom? But then, friends of her usually weren't here when she wasn't. And what did he want from me? Something about him terrified me more than any of the aggressive, drunk and horny men I'd encountered before ever had. 
I forced myself to think about something else and immediately my mind jumped to Nathan. He should scare the hell out of me but for some reason that fear vanished when he called my cupcake and overall annoyed me. He was dangerous, there was no doubt about that, even if he joked around and wouldn't leave me alone. I should stay away from him. I had to stay away from him. I would tell my teacher that Nathan can pass any test on his own and continue living my life not noticing his presence. Up until now that hadn't been a problem, so I could do it again. Right? But there was something about his dangerous, sarcastic, demanding self that infatuated me, made it impossible for me to look away to long. I was attracted to him, there was no doubt about that, but since when was attraction stronger than fear and common sense? He wasn't a good person and he wouldn't be the one to save me from this hell. That was something I had to manage by myself. No boy would do that for me. Forcing Nathan out of my mind was a lot harder than doing so with the scary stranger in my living room. 

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