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.


2. T W O | Go home girl

It was already getting dark by the time I walk out of the alley. Now all I have to do is find the right person to piss off and hope he has a gun. That'll make things way easier. I wander around a bit, limping in dark alleys and just generally bad areas but don't find anyone fitting. Where are all the angry, murderers when you need one?
I spot some drunk guys stumbling around but they probably couldn't do the job. They can barely stay on their feet.
Then I enter another alley and almost do a happy dance. There, concealed by the shadows of the building behind him is a person dressed in black. He's tall, standing straight and has a cigarette in his hand. But what truly catches my interest is the gun handle sticking out of his back pocket. Bingo. I head towards the guy suddenly getting scared. After all I am trying to kill myself here.
You may be thinking: Why the hell can't this girl just kill herself the old fashioned way? Does she really need to make someone else do it? Well, I'm not denying that something might be wrong with me. Blame the punches at my skull. And I hate to admit it but I can't stand the thought of being judged as some oversensitive teenager who just split up with her boyfriend. Being murdered is way more interesting.
My steps remained steady and the guy turned around to look at me. I almost stopped walking. He is probably around nineteen years old and looked like he wanted to punch someone. Perfect. And did I mention that this dude is fucking hot? No? Well he is. His eyes are dark and his whole appearance radiates danger and confidence. I couldn't help but smile. Getting killed by this guy was the best thing that could happen to me so far.
Meanwhile the guy was obviously not pleased with me smiling. "This isn't a good place for little girls to play." he growled. His voice was deep and dangerous.
"What if I don't care?" Even my best efforts couldn't stop my voice from shaking a bit.
"Fuck off before you get yourself killed."
I continued to walk closer, until I could touch him if I stretched out my arm, and looked up to him. My small frame probably made me look about twelve but he seemed to finally see that I was older.
"Whats your problem?" I continued to be quiet and smile. Any second now.
"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.
"Listen, you're lucky I don't hit girls but if you don't leave right now I'll make an exception." I continued to stay where I was. Sighing he turned around and wanted to walk away. I followed. This was harder than I thought. When he noticed I was following him he turned around and finally looked truly angry. Even though I didn't want to, I involuntarily took a step back. But now he came closer until he was only inches in front of me. I wanted to shrink back, the image of what the drunk guy earlier had done still fresh in my mind. Then the guy moved his arm and instinct took over. I stumbled backwards, tripped and fell. My already damaged body was killing me and this time I wasn't strong enough to hold back a cry. The guy in front of me didn't exactly look concerned but he did look interested.
"You're crazy, do you know that?" He looked me up and down one more time "A little tip: watch that mouth of yours or you'll get in trouble." And with that he turned around and walked away.
After that fail I limped around alleyways some more but eventually had to realize that the world wasn't completely filled with piece of shit assholes like I had thought - I just had the luck of sharing my home with the ones that did exist. But there was absolutely no way I was going to voluntarily get killed in my own home.
I sighed. This clearly wasn't going to work tonight. Before I could start crying I clenched my teeth together and started limping home. Home. The word felt wrong. It should be something comforting and happy but when I thought of home I only thought of violence and fear.
When I opened the door to the shabby building all I could do was hope for the best before slipping in. 
It was dark and a shadowy figure lay on the couch. Judging from the shape and the hair it was probably my mother. Another word that felt wrong. Other than her I couldn't see anyone else. That was new. I quietly crept up the stairs to my room hyper aware of how much louder my damaged body made me.
My door was still locked - thank god - and when I got in I could finally breathe again. I was more than grateful to have my own bathroom as I peeled of my pants and examined my leg. It looked really nasty but hopefully it would heal fine if I bandaged it correctly. Other than that I had some new ugly bruises that were mixing with the old ones. Just great. Thats exactly what a sixteen year old needs to deal with. I would kill for some boyfriend drama or a cry session with my best friend over a deceased character in a tv show.
I carefully bandaged my thigh with the bandages I kept in my bathroom at all times. For a second I debated if I should risk looking for something cold downstairs but quickly abandoned the idea.
It had been a while since things has been as bad as today. I was always on edge and had to fend people off but to be attacked viciously by to people on the same day was new. Hopefully this was just a horrible day and not how things would be on a daily basis. Plan B might have failed today - and looking back on it, it was a pretty bad plan to begin with but there was no way I was just abandoning it if things continued to be this bad.
At last I fell into my bed and closed my eyes. Tomorrow would be torture but I still couldn't wait for this day to finally be over. As I closed my eyes a face popped into my head. The stranger that for some reason refused to shoot me. Wimp. He was hot though. I could still feel his blue eyes piercing through me and could still see how his dark hair had fallen into his face in a messy manner. His dark clothes had suited him and even though I hated the smell and taste of cigarettes I had to admit it looked really good in his hand. To bad he was a complete asshole. There was no doubt he was bad but he wasn't bad enough to kill an innocent girl. I wan't sure what to make of that. When I finally fell asleep I was still thinking about him and how a tiny bit of concern had flashed across  his face before he had replaced it by a mask of indifference and slight curiosity.

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