Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language and violence.
I repeat this has strong lanauage if you are under the age of 16+ please read something else! You have been warned!
After just thinking aimlessly about what I should do for about fifteen minutes, a male approached me. Tall, muscular, with nothing but dark features about him, but he was exhausting to look at. His face was covered with distraught, he reeked of a bar and cheap perfume, he was sluggish looking, his hair wasn’t kept. And his clothes, oh don’t get me started with his clothes, they look like a homeless man’s everyday wear. He looked terrible in all.
That’s how you irk someone like me, no not a person with autism, but a person who has a problem with talking to people who stink like a skank from a bar on a Saturday Night. So it made me tense when this male approached me, and when he opened his mouth.
I might as well have died right then and there. Because damn did his breath reeked of so much whiskey, probably vodka, and maybe a bit of wine, also it wasn’t mixing well with the mints he took before he began talking to me or anyone else in fact with that type of breath. I pinched my nose and held my breath.
“It’s rude to do that Ms. Hicks.” He teased while getting closer to me, I scooted away in irritation with the smell of him. Wishing for someone who can grab this homeless man and pull his stinky skank breath away from me. Since I didn’t reply and continued pinching my nose and holding my breath he continued to talk, and yes I listened to him.
“And so you may take my hand into marriage as the Queen of Hell.”
See this is when I just stop listening and really hope to God that someone would pull this man away from me before I start screaming. I especially don’t like people that I don’t know being close to me, it increases tension. My eyes averted to his, my expression still blank and his filled with great emotion.
“Can you repeat every word you said to me but slowly please?” I asked plainly, gladly he didn’t notice that I was pulling my face away, so he nodded.
“I have watched you for a long damn time, you know. Ever since I came to your high school looking for fun with some high school whores,” he admitted, which I don’t blame, our high school is filled with bitches who ignore me or scowl at me for some reason. The only thing I really do to get through the school day is practice on my violin in quiet places in the school and then go to work. Even if I wanted to be “involved” my mom wouldn’t let me have any kind of social media besides a gaming app called Disord, which I begged her to let me have. She reluctantly agreed to my begging, or well silent treatment.
“Until that day I saw you walk across that hallway, away from me and my madness with those raging whores around me. You were the only girl who didn’t pay attention to me. You’re different.” He stated, which I found bizarre because I found it very fucking disgusting that this guy, this random stinky skanky guy want to come up to me and spill his guts. I wanted to stop him there, but I just found it funny that he was just spilling his guts on me and I didn’t want to be rude. “And I like different women,” Aren’t all women different? I don’t get men.
“And I liked you ever since, so I decided for you to be my Queen.” Once he said that, my heart didn’t flutter. I was unamused by his confession.
I am never amused, but I finally realized who I was talking to, even though his sluggish features covered his identity quite well. His name is Author, Author Taylor. The bad boy at my school. Girls fall for him, boys hate him, and me? He’s not even on my radar, but I heard of him. I have been ordered to stay away from him, and I guess, he came to me.
Author Taylor has come to spill his guts and it’s all about me?