I'm sitting on the curb, in the rain, drinking from a bottle of vodka. Looking for my purple bracelet.
I can see someone walking up the path towards me. It’s either a really good-looking guy, or a magical walking mushroom. I kick away the empty bottles of cheap wine at my feat and try to look not so much like a drunk. It gets closer and bends down, turns out he's a really hot guy.
"Need a hand?" he asks, his voice a velvety music to my ears. I take his hand and he lifts me to my feet; which are bare, as I ditched my heels a while ago as I ran from my pursuer.
He leads me away from the curb, and as we walk I study him; he has light brown hair that falls in curls around his face, it is cut to the average length, just on his ears. His eyes are a dazzling deep blue that I could lose myself in for hours. He has a masculine build, one that women swoon over, and his jaw line is much defined. To me, right now he is an angel, or the closest thing too one. The alcohol in me gives him a light glow. He seems to be checking me out just as thoroughly as I am him, I see his eyes look me up and down, and he seems to be impressed.
We walk past a closed down shop and I check my self out in the mirror. I have light gold-blond hair that was straightened to perfection (before I set out for the night, who knows what it looks like now), my eyes are a light hazel, and my curves are something I am very proud of, but unfortunately I'm a whole 5'2", and, lets just put it this way, I hate my nose.
I lose my train of thought when he starts asking me about what happened. He takes the bottle out of my hand, with surprising strength, and puts it in the nearest bin.
"What happened to you?" He questions.
I shrug my shoulders and put on a confused expression, there is no way I’m telling him what happened, without putting up a fight.
"Where are you staying?" He asks me instead.
"Um... I don't know," I'm tired, and really I honestly have no idea where I’m staying, or who I'm staying with.
"I guess I could book you into the hotel ‘round the corner." he seems to be contemplating the words as he says them, but I'm just too drunk to notice anything out of the ordinary, I mean, who helps a girl find where she's staying? a stalker, someone who's interested in the easy target says my higher reasoning. With a little shake of my head I ignore myself and continue walking.
We walk to th hotel ‘Paradise Palace’, and he lets me sit while he talks to the receptionist. He is handed a key card and leads me to the lift. We go to the third floor, and I'm booked into room number 315. He leads me inside and lies me on the bed, for a second I think he is going to take advantage of me, I mean, seriously, who on earth lies you down on a bed, when they’re not romantically interested? In an instant I'm thinking of ways to get out of here, but to my surprise he leaves me there, alone.
"I'm in the room next door, 313, don't be afraid to call me if you need anything, OK?" I'm completely dumbstruck, but not for long. My head hits the pillow, and the haze thats been following me around for the last half our is engulfed in the darkness of sleep, I'm out.
My dream replays the nights events, only this time I’m watching myself, and not actually experiencing it first hand.
She starts out at a bar on the other side of town, but doesn’t seem to be drinking much, a purple bracelet on her wrist. When she walks home it doesn’t take her long to realize she’s being followed. She never looks back at the man following her, even though, I know she knows he is there. She turns the corner and he watches very carefully. He pulls out a mobile and makes a quick call before rounding the corner himself. I only hear a little of what he says “Alley way......... girl......... one we’ve been looking for........ back-up.” Meanwhile she crouches in the shadow of a dumpster. He walks with purpose down the dark, putrid alley-way. She removes her shoes from her dainty feet and breaks the heel off one wil a loud SNAP. Her breathing slows. He walked forward carefully. Many louder footsteps accompany him before he walks to where he is most vulnerable. When he finally gets within her reach, she lunges out towards him, taking the easy target. Without hesitation she plunges the makeshift weapon straight into his arm, in doing so she loses her purple bracelet. She then hits him over the head with the heel and he gets knocked out, seconds later his back-up are charging down the alley way towards her. She sprints off into the darkness before they can catch her, and runs till time means nothing. When she finally feels she is out of immediate danger, she crouches down on a curb, the smell of wet asphalt filling her nostrils, retrieves her vodka, along with some cheap wine, from her purse, and decides it’s time to have a drink.
The next morning I woke up breathing heavily.
The first sentence isn't the best hook. I suggest just saying that the MC is in the rain, drinking vodka, which creates more questions open in the reader's mind and makes them want to read on.
mwahahaha
