Gangs

The woman’s head felt as if someone would hit it with a hammer over and over again, even though her eyes were still closed and she was laying down on something soft.

She refused to open her eyes, in fear that the pain would increase. She tried to replay the last night in her head but the only thing she could remember was arriving at the party with Brock, and then later walk with him into a backstreet.

She smiled. This had to be his bed, so she rolled over, but wasn’t met with what she was inspecting.

The front of her body collided with something soft and cold. She slowly opened her eyes. Instantly, the pounding in her head got worse, due to her movement. But when her eyes met with the backrest of a couch, she was utterly confused.

Did Brock made her sleep on his couch?

She slowly pushed her body up, so she was sitting. The thin blanket that covered her body, fell down her chest so only her legs were covered. She was still wearing her underwear.

Furrowing her brows she looked around the room she was in. It was definitely a living room. She was on a light brown couch that was placed in the middle of the room. Across room the couch was a huge TV set as well as some game consoles. There were huge windows, which were almost as high as the room and equally wide. But since the deep purple curtains were pulled close barley any sunlight came through.

This definitely wasn’t Brock’s apartment, simply because this wasn’t an apartment but looked more like a house.

Scrunching her nose a nasty smell filled her nostrils. She began to ran a hand through her hair, but immediately stopped when it felt not only greasy but also matted together. Holding her hand under her nose she smelled vomit.

Was it hers?

The padding of bare feet startled her, making her shot around. She was met with a man around the age of 25, short hair that stood in different directions from his head and tattoo covered arms.

He walked past her not even noticing her and towards the door across the room. Before he could leave the room though, the girl decided to clear her throat. Not very loud but still enough for the man to run around. “Uhm…morning?”

He blinked a few times before muttering a morning back at her and then proceeded his way through the door.

Slightly perplexed she wanted to follow him but then realized once again that she wasn’t wearing any clothes beside her underwear. She looked around helplessly until a mug of coffee was placed on the coffee table in front of the couch. The man muttered a ‘I figured you’d need that’ and then walked back to the door he just emerged from and leaned against the doorframe.

She gladly took the coffee and sipped it carefully. “Uh, sorry, but, uh, where are my clothes?”

“In the trash can,” he replied monotone, taking another sip of his coffee.

The girl’s eyes widened and her mouth parted slightly.

“Look, Janice, right? I found you in a dark back alley barely conscious and with vomit all over yourself, and I was so nice to take you home because I felt pity for you, since you were all on your own. Your dress, if you can even call it like that, smelled really nasty and as ruined as it was I figured you wouldn’t need it anymore. If you want it back, you have to search it in the trashcan. Here,” he grabbed a huge old t-shirt, that was hanging over the backrest of a nearby chair,”you can wear this. And then please get out of my house, you’re fine now, and I don’t really like crack whores. So, yeah, get out.”

With that he took the coffee mug out of her hands and walked back through the door in, what she thought, was the kitchen.

Janice sat there, shocked and perplexed. Did he just call her crack whore? Why would he do that?

She slowly stood up and walked over to the chair and took the t-shirt. Slipping it over her head, it was really large, going up to her mid thigh. It wasn’t special, just some plain black old t-shirt.

When she got her heels from next to the couch and wanted to walk to the front door when she remembered that she’s never been here. So she went to the door that Brian had disappeared through and opened it silently.

She looked around the huge kitchen. There he stood. With his back towards her, she saw his muscles tense while his movements. He had a nice back. But that as besides the point now.

She spoke up quietly. “Uh, sorry, but where is the front door?”

Without turning around he answered, “Go through this door,” he motioned for a door that was on his right side,” and then you’re in the hall. The front door is hard to miss, even for dumb sluts!” He whispered the last part but Janice heard it though.

Keeping her head down she walked over to the door. “Thank you for the coffee”, she mumbled before she exited the kitchen and then the front door, head bowed.

Walking down the streets to her apartment, she shivered as the cold morning breeze hit her bare legs and arms. It was a fifteen minute walk, but she was glad that he hadn’t made her go home in her red piece of clothing.

She wondered where Brock had disappeared to last night, leaving her all to herself. Refusing to believe that he left her and actually didn’t care what happened to her, she came to the conclusion that he probably had an important business to attend.

Finally, she arrived at her small apartment and the first thing she did was to take a hot and long shower. She not only felt dirty but she also was.