I Need You

*Kara's POV*
Another body bumped into mine as I walked down the sidewalk, during Detroit's evening rush hour. Even the sidewalks, like the one I was on, were every bit as crowded as the streets.

"Watch it." The person I had bumped into, a man who appeared to be in his late fifties, hissed at me.

"Fuck off." I growled back, and he scowled at me before he stormed away. I may be only five foot four inches tall, but I had another foot in attitude. That man had to have been around six foot tall. I'm honestly not scared of anybody. I grew up in the ghetto of Los Angeles, and I don't take shit from anyone. Especially old men. The tattoos and piercings always helped scare people off, too. Anyways, I adjusted my guitar case on my back, and kept walking towards my home. My home was a shitty-ass apartment in the hood of Detroit. I lived there with my boyfriend of four years, Derek. I'm twenty five now, and we moved here when I was twenty three. I moved to get away from my really fucked up life in Hollywood. I did drugs, drank, smoked, graffitied walls and buildings, stole things, and definitely spent a few nights in jail. When I came here, I expected a better life. Instead, I was slapped in the face by reality. I guessed I needed that, though. It was an amazing opportunity for me when Derek got a job running a nightclub in Detroit. I figured we could actually become serious with our relationship here, and provide for ourselves. Instead, Derek got a run down shack that was barely a club anymore, and it didn't take long for the shitty place to go out of business. We then faced debt. We're still looking it in the face now. Derek's job as a bartender didn't really pay the bills, and he refused to let me get a job. It was a pride thing, because he was 'the man of the house' and he should make the money to provide for us, apparently. I was the one who wore the pants in the relationship, anyways, so it was pretty stupid of him to pull that shit on me. So, I decided to help. I got my old acoutsic guitar out, and I sing at random venues all over Detroit. On a good day, I can bring in a hundred dollars. Man of the house, my ass. In one day, I probably made more than he did in a week.
Another person bumped into me, and I looked up to see a frightned woman, who was probably in her early thirties, and a young boy, no older than seven. I smiled kindly at them, and the woman's face relaxed. I crouched down and picked up the teddy bear the boy dropped, handing it to him. "There ya go, buddy." I then turned to the woman. "Sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going." I smiled warmly at her, and she returned the gesture.

"No worries. We're all good here. C'mon, Jimmy." She tugged on the boy's arm, and they were off down the sidewalk. The little boy turned around and waved at me, and I grinned while waving back. I loved little kids. They were so cute. I actually wanted kids, but Derek didn't. I continued to walk, and spotted a McDonald's. I changed course and headed towards there instead, and payed for my meal with some of the thirty dollars I had earned today. I frowned, thinking of how much I usually make. Whatever, today was a bad day.
I ate my Big Mac and fries alone, and in silence. Truth be told, I had really wanted to go back to Hollywood for this past month. Derek and I were having some issues, and when I came out here, I had thought I loved him. I still think I do, but I was really starting to question our relationship. I shook my thoughts off and threw away my trash, heading home. From the McDonald's, it was about a five minute walk back. I looked at my trashy scenery and wrinkled my nose in disgust. The hood in L.A. may have been pretty bad, but at least it was cleaner than this. It smelled like sewage, and trash lined the streets. The air was thick with smoke from factories, and I practically gagged. This place had to be the hood of the United States, and the dirtiest city. Motor city? Yeah, let's try shitty city. I started to sing 'City' by Hollywood Undead then. I loved Hollywood Undead. Them, Avenged Sevenfold, Three Pill Morning, and so many other rock bands were practically my life. Besides, I had an old friend in H.U.. We didn't talk much these days, but we used to be really close back in Hollywood. I didn't want to talk about him, though. It would only bring back memories, and those memories would make me want to return to Hollywood even more.
I finally spotted my apartment and walked into the building. I took the stairs up like I did every day, fearing the crappy old elevator would break down. I lived on the third floor, room 3D. I put the key in the lock and twisted, opening the door. Then came the five minute process of yanking the key out of the hole, which was always a blast (Note the sarcasm.). I hid my guitar case in my closet before going to take a shower. I stripped of my clothes and looked in the mirror. I had bright blue eyes and light brown hair with the tips died purple. I wiped off my mascara and chapstick before taking out my three ear piercings in each ear, and my cartilage piercing in my left ear. I left my nose piercing in, and looked at my tattoos. I had a tattoo sleeve down my whole right arm, and my left arm had a few tattoos. My right shoulder blade had one, as did my left ankle and right hip. I sighed before hopping in the shower, looking at my left wrist tattoo that read 'Stay Strong'.
After my shower, I put on one of Derek's t-shirts, which was huge on me, and some underwear. I hopped into bed after looking at the picture on my nightstand of me and Derek. It was taken four years ago, and Derek hadn't changed one bit. I had, of course. Derek was six feet tall, had hazel eyes, dirty blonde hair, and a lean structure. He only had maybe one tattoo. We were pretty different, but opposites attract, right? I closed my eyes and turned off my thoughts, falling asleep. Welcome to my life. The life of Kara Thalia Thames.