There are two things in this world every writer hates: running out of coffee and writer's block. I, unfortunately, seemed to be stuck in some kind of ridiculous alternate universe where the two things I hated most in the world were making themselves present. I had no coffee and my writer's block was so bad, I considered slamming my computer against the wall repeatedly until it broke.
People have different reasons for why writer's block attacks. Most of the time, though, people say it's because of a lack of inspiration. Like, you've been sitting in the house and you haven't really experienced life so therefore your writing suffers. Well, that's not the case for me. In fact, the reason I have writer's block is the complete opposite. I'm experiencing too much life.
See, I had this boyfriend. This story--like all stories--started out good. Damien was a nice guy, or so he seemed. I mean, yeah, okay, I knew he had a record and I knew he had done some bad things, but at the same time who the hell was I to judge him, you know? Especially since I had a wild time during my teenage years--mostly petty thievery, but whatever.
Anyway, I got roped into a very passionate romance. He really seemed like a good guy at first. Then, he changed. I don't even remember when it happened. It was like, one day he was really sweet and the next day he was a completely different person. He was violent with this quick temper and I'd like to say he didn't hit me when his temper flared up, but I'd be lying if I did.
Eventually, he started running his drug operation from my house. My house wasn't even my house anymore, it was more like a playground for addicts and prostitutes and his "homeboys." The cops had had their eye on my place for a while and were planning to raid it, so what did I do? I fucking snitched that's what I did. I know there's this whole "snitches get stitches thing," but honestly, I never wanted to watch my home get turned into a crack/whorehouse. Besides, Damien was the kind of guy who deserved to go to jail. The things he did...the things I saw him do...
Anyhow, I'm a supernatural writer. What do I write about? Supernatural shit, of course. Why can't I write said supernatural shit? Because I've been getting too many doses of reality, that's why.
I sigh and groan, throwing a hand over my eyes. What I really need is coffee.
I grab my car keys and head out the door, not even bothering to change my clothes or even check my appearance. I'm too frickin' tired. This past year has been Hell. Damien knew that I was the one who ratted him out. It had been quiet, a little too quiet, and that made it hard to concentrate. Damien wasn't the quiet type.
I pull into a Food Lion and walk in. It;s quiet and desolate. I guess most people were sleeping or at home Netflix and chilling at ten o'clock.
I grab one of those little baskets and go straight for the coffee.
"Hello, beautiful," I mumble to myself, putting it into the basket. While I'm here, I may as well get something to eat. I settle for Cheetos, a couple candy bars and my two best friends Ben and Jerry.
At the checkout line, the girl is ringing me up. She is fresh-faced and looks as if she can't wait for this store to close so she can get home and get to sleep. While I'm giving her a kind of pitying look since I know what it's like for work to keep you up late, I see movement from the corner of my eye.
In walks Bruiser. His real name is Clarence or something like that, but on the streets, they call him Bruiser because...well, for obvious reasons. He was one of Damien's "homeboys." I'm surprised. I haven't seen them out and about, not since Damien went to jail.
He walks toward me and the cashier looks and him warily. His smile is menacing and he looks like he's gloating about something. Call it woman's intuition, but I have a feeling this conversation is going to ruin my life.
"Tasha, good to see you," he says, coming and standing too close for my liking.
I frown at him and back away. "I hate that nickname. I've told you that already. Call me Natasha or don't say my name at all. As a matter of fact, I'd prefer it if you did the latter"
Bruiser chuckles darkly. "You always did have a mouth on you. Damien knew how to keep you in line, though."
"Yeah, well Damien was also an abusive asshole and look where that landed him. In prison. Because the girl he knew how to keep in line got tired of wearing makeup to cover her black eyes."
"He misses you, you know. Despite you ratting him out. He wants to talk to you. I can't promise he won't punish you for snitching, but he'll take you back."
"Please," I scoff, shaking my head. "Damien can't punish anyone. If he even tried, those guards would be all over him in a second."
"Oh, you didn't know?" Bruiser's eyes are wide with false innocence.
I narrow my eyes at him, dread curling up in my stomach.
"They're releasing him. From prison."
Those five words are all it takes for my world to come caving in. My skin is like ice and my heart stops beating for a few seconds. When it does, it beats in overdrive. I can't breathe and my vision blurs slightly.
"That's impossible. He got sixty years in prison."
Bruiser shrugs, paying for my groceries and taking my bag, handing it to me.
"When you know the right people and can pull the right strings, those kinds of things don't matter. You know that, Tasha." He backs away heading to the door. "He's looking forward to seeing you again. He just misses you to pieces."
When he's gone, I just stand there for a moment, my hands shaking and my heart pounding. I can't bring myself to move, I'm finding it difficult to breathe.
"Hey, you want me to call the ambulance or something?" the cashier asks, looking worried.
I snap out of my daze and shake my head.
"No, don't. I'm fine. Thanks."
I hurry out of there and start for my car when suddenly something occurs to me. Is it really a good idea to get into my car? One time, this guy owed Damien some money, so he had one of his boys plant a bomb in the guy's car. It might be possible that he did the same thing to me.
I step away from my car and press the button to unlock my car door. It beeps twice and not even a nanosecond later, there's this loud explosion. The explosion is so powerful, it knocks me back a couple of paces, but all I can concentrate on is the fire that was once where my car had been.