Rise of a Heroine: Resurgence

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Chapter 3. His Dark Reality

THOMAS

There’s a cold autumn breeze in Downtown Sainte-Catherine. Thankfully, because I’m sweating profusely; heat waves just won’t let me be. Just like the stupid voice in my head. It’s been getting worse, much stronger lately. I tried to ignore it but since my suicide attempt last year, it’s just taking all the place it can, resonating so loud in my skull I can hear nothing else. Its walls of darkness are closing in on me, leaving barely enough oxygen and light for me to live. I gulp and tighten my grip on my knife, which is concealed in the front pocket of my dark gray hoodie. My trusty switchblade.

Hunger is forcing me to walk with my back arched and shoulders drooped. My middle is hurting, as though twisting on itself or worse… eating itself out of desperation. Food… Me and Leigh haven’t eaten anything solid since yesterday morning. If there’s some money left tonight, after my pills, I’ll buy us lunch. And none for my parents. They’re never starving… Always eating up all their money, letting us watch in pain.

One day, Ill get us out of there, Leigh.

With a quick look around me, I see I ain’t attracting attention, which is honestly surprising. My raccoon eyes from lack of sleep, pale skin, and careless appearance should single me out. But then again, Montreal is used to seeing guys my style.

Quit yappin’, asshole.

Urgh, shut up! Dont need you, voice.

I need to get it out of my system, beat someone up, be violent and feel the rush. Hopefully it’ll shut the voice up for a while. After all, it’s what it wants. My heart is beating in my ears like a tempo that’s gaining speed preparing for the grand coup. Not that I’m new at it, been been under surveillance and to Centres Jeunesses and all, but this time maybe I’ll get money for pills. Yes, maybe I’ll steal that money and pay for pills my fat mother won’t. And then the voice will shut up. Until I run out and it’s back to roaming the streets, committing crimes and petty thefts.

I clench my teeth and grind them. Anger is flaring up in me along with the dark desire of punching, cutting and threatening someone. I want it out! I’m walking in a straight, determined line, heading for the alley to the left. That’s when I see her.

Her clothing strikes my eyes—it may be simple, but I love a gal who can rock denim with a pride in her steps. But her cat eyes draw me in. She’s smiling and laughing with her friend (they’re definitely not sisters based on their skintones), striding all confidently towards me. Her high and long ponytail’s swaying as she walks. She’s mezmerising. If I weren’t so fucked up, I’d go and introduce myself: we must be the same age. But of course, she wouldn’t even look at me, the bitch. They’re so high above everyone else, even though she looks cool. What about her friend? She’s petite, tanned skin, probably mexican or something, with a black bob and ugly, round nose.

As I’m staring, and they gesturing and laugh. Fury assaults me, like a fire boiling from my guts to my hands squeezing the knife.

I’ve found my victims. They’re going to pay for this! For being beautiful and ugly, for being my style and not caring, for being happy and I’m not, and for being high and mighty while I’m low and lost.

I snarl and walk forward faster until we’re shoulder-to-shoulder, then I slip my the tip of my knife out of my pocket and press it against the ponytail girl’s abdomen.

“In, you go,” I whisper through gritting teeth. If I don’t look serious enough, the knife is answer on its own as I nod to the alley behind her.

She stops and stiffens, her green eyes widening. But she stays silent.

Good girl.

I want to see her blood, taste her, twist her arms… Gut her!

Her ponytail swings once before standing still. Her friend, annoying really, pops her head around the beauty.

“Mimi? What’s wrong?” The Mexican blinks repeatedly, incomprehensive.

The one standing tall before me (heck, she’s taller than me, what a turn-on!) gulps.

“Please, don’t hurt us. We’ll go, just…” Mimi turns her head to her friend and mutters: “Get in the alley, now! He’s got a knife.”

The Mexican gasps and looks closely at where I’m pressing. She claps a hand over her mouth and nods an awful amount of times before they shuffle into the alley, walking back as I follow them.

The fun begins.

All mine, those bitches. I want to fuck and punch that Mimi.

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