I opened my eyes and let out a loud, unladylike yawn when I noticed a heavy weight on my chest, and looked down to find. Ghost, my black, furry cat sitting on my chest, purring contentedly.
I lay in bed contemplating life and desperately searching for the will to live before throwing down the covers and getting down and freshening up, I threw on a pair of yoga pants and a black oversized hoodie before heading off to make my self a drink of coffee. Coffee was my elixir, it was the only way I'd somehow managed to survive working three jobs. Just as I finished making the darkest possible brew of black coffee, Ghost started rubbing his head on my foot with an annoyed meow to tell me how disappointed he was that his food bowl was currently empty, I refilled it and quickly packed a small duffel bag, hastily stuffing a pair of gloves and my outfit for the rest of the day before heading to the gym. Thankfully, being four in the morning, the gym would be empty save for Cole, the owner.
As the gym was just around the corner, I slipped on a pair of sneakers and threw on a jacket before walking to it. When I arrived, the Sun had not yet risen. I entered the big, well equipped gym, wrapped my hands and set off towards the nearest punching bag. Needing an outlet to vent out my frustration and emotion, I threw punch after punch at the leather bag until I was startled by a voice across the room. Lost in my own world, I barely noticed Cole who had walk and was now leaning against a pillar watching me workout. The guy was the first of the few friends I had. I signed up to his gym about four years ago, when therapy did nothing to help my incessant nightmares. Cole had trained me to fight and helped me find a way to project my pent up emotion towards working out rather than letting it consume me.
"Rough day ahead?" He asked with his trademark smirk. Cole was plenty attractive with his well built physique, charming features and close cropped black hair. Sure enough, the guy had several females fawning over him day and night. I, however, had absolutely no feelings for the male, not that he wasn't a great guy or anything but rather because we were just friends and nothing more.
He nudged his chin towards the ring, asking me if I wanted to have a go, o nodded and stepped in mentally preparing myself to have my ass handed to me. I braced myself in a fighters stance, after Cole lazily shrugged off his shirt, revealing a plane of tanned skin and chiseled abs. He stepped into the ring and mirrored my stance. We circled eachother for a few minutes before I lunged forward and attempted to land a blow to his jaw, unfortunately for me, the bastard easily deflected my assault and caught my incoming wrist with a flick of his hand. He responded with an assault of his own, his legs wove between my own and hooked unto my ankle and with a sharp tug, I found my self on the cold, hard ground. I took a moment to get back on my feet before feigning a punch to my left, he fell for it, much to my surprise, moving away and falling right into the trap I'd set for him, I hit him in the gut with a roundhouse kick which drove him to his knees, my fists hit his face. Repeatedly. He groaned audibly, but his mass was an advantage and he flipped us, straddling my waist with his hands around my neck. "Fucking hell Cole, let me go" I snarled at his face. He merely chuckled before getting off me and helping me to my feet. I shot him an evil look as I leaned against the pillar, breathing heavily.
"I guess I'm not your favourite person today?" He asked, his white,sharp canines on full display, which made me desperately want to punch him in the face. "You're not my favorite person any day." I growled at him before grabbing my duffel and heading to the showers. After a quick shower, I headed back to my appartment.
I spent the mornings working at Mrs. Georgia's bookstore, the afternoons waitressing at the nearby restaurant, and the night as a bartender at the local club. I didn't need all three jobs to survive but, Ghost and I have grown very accustomed to a very lavish lifestyle. Ghost was an extremely picky eater, he refused to eat regular cat food. My day job at the restaurant however, enabled me to collect leftovers for my spoilt cat.
After I finished refilling Ghost's water and food bowl with fresh water and leftover lasagna, I headed out from my apartment to start my incredibly tiresome day to come.
As soon as I entered the bookstore, Mrs. Georgia greeted me with a warm smile and a hug. It was she who took me in when I was a child on the streets, starving after the death of my mother. She fed me and clothed me and offered me a job at her bookstore. When I was barely fourteen, I'd lost my mother in a fire accident in our old musty apartment. She was a drug-addict and an alcoholic, and we couldn't afford bare necessities. We weren't always like this though, when I was a child , I vaguely remember my mother being loving and gentle, we used to spend a lot of time together and were pretty close. However, something changed, eventually she began neglecting me when I was still a young girl, dependent on her mother. We couldn't afford three square meals a day and I often was left starving.
My life had drastically changed since, I'm twenty two, working, living an extremely comfortable life. I worked hard to ensure that I would never have to endure such conditions again.
There were barely a few customers at the bookstore today, I sold a couple magazines and a few DVDs.
At twelve, I left the store and headed to job two . As I headed into my black cadillac, I genuinely felt something was about to go wrong, brushing away the thought, I revved up the engine and barely made it around the corner when a massive truck swerved into my lane and collided head on into the divider. The truck tilted at a perilous ninety degree angle on its side causing it's contents to leak out. foul-smelling, black oil poured out of it and coated the road in its glossy residue. The truck collapsed on its side blocking the road. Muttering a string of curses that would've probably made Mrs. Georgia recoil in horror, I lost control of my car as it glided on the sticky fuel. I tried slamming the breaks, but to no avail, the car glided downhill and rammed into the truck at nearly 70 miles per hour.
The impact rattled my bones and my head slammed into the dashboard. That was the last thing I noticed off before darkness claimed me.