I actually hate this chapter, but oh well. Here it is.
“If you want some girl time, Marlene Oder lives in the apartment just down the hall, Carlotta Perky’s on the second story, Shelly Astaire’s across the hall from us, and I guess if it comes down to it—”
“Hi, Kowalski,” someone said behind them.
“—there’s always her,” Kowalski finished, turning around with Kitka.
It was a brisk Friday afternoon in October.
Kitka Falcón trudged up the stairs to her new apartment, lugging her suitcase behind her. She was eager to see if there was anyone whom she might enjoy conversation with.
Kitka brushed her golden blonde hair out of her abnormally sharp eyes as she reached her new home. She got out the key and opened the door, dumping her luggage right inside and sitting down across from it, exhausted from the long hike up the stairs. She really did want to meet some people, but first she desperately needed some rest. She took of...
I have so little left now. So few things to hold dear, so little to call my own. Few happy memories. I am unsure of anything. Who I am, where I stand, where i belong. Will i be forced to scrape together a meager existence, or shall I follow his lead, join his cause and ruin everything?
Poignant. I can hear a song playing faintly somewhere. It's a haunting melody, soft and melancholy, much like my frame of mind. It was a chilly November day. It was nearly two decades ago,thought I can still recall every detail of that day as plainly as though it were yesterday.
I didn't walk into this to write some overly dramatic cliche " It was a dark and stormy night...." crap. This is serious business, here, and I'm not too sure I'm keen on sharing it.
I'm not sure what to feel anymore, but I can tell you one thing: Scars run deep. That's a given in this game. It's do or die, and I don't want to do either. Knowledge carries a high price, I've learned. Too much can be dangerous. Too little makes you expendable. In the game of Life, I'm sure we're all in agreement here, there should be cheat codes.
It all seemed to happen in a second. The alarms blazed, Blowhole jumped in shock, the bullet erupted from his gun, hitting the wall. He ordered the guards in the room to go see what was going on, Blowhole waited by the door. They waited; it didn’t take too long for the alarms to seize. Blowhole assumed the situation was under control. He walked back over to Skipper, stopped in front of him, and leaned down, inches from his face. “Now where were we?” He asked grinning.
Marlene cried out in pain. It'd been an hour since it began. He struck her again with the whip. Another cry of agony escaped her lips. Killer raised the whip again, but Blowhole entered and stopped him before he whipped her again. Marlene held back tears. She wouldn't dare let him see her cry. Not over her dead body. Blowhole walked around her...grinning like a madman. "Good work Killer. But unfortunately it's time we released her." He told him. He unlocked the chains on Marlene's wrists, causing her to fall to her knees. She rubbed her wrists, which were sore and bleeding from the edges of...
Marlene was still working to get her hands out of the ropes but continually failed. Then the door opened & two men walked in. One of them was Dr. Blowhole, but she didn’t know who the other one was…but he looked rough. Marlene was yelling at Blowhole through her gag. The two of them stopped in front of her. Blowhole rolled his eyes & nodded at the other man. The other man backhanded Marlene in the face as hard as he could. Marlene grunted in pain, and then looked back to Blowhole with hatred & anger in her eyes, her face...
Marlene woke up tied to a chair, gagged. She slowly opened her eyes. She took in her surroundings; she was alone in a room. The room had white walls with a high ceiling, and…Marlene stopped breathing for a moment. Her eyes widened. On the wall to her left was a big red stain. She didn't need to ask what it was. She frantically looked around, trying to find way to free herself. There was nothing. She started to panic even more when she saw cuffs hanging from the ceiling, with a whip hanging on the wall a few feet from that on her...
"Do you, Amanda Claythorne, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" Asked the preacher. "I do." Amanda said happily. The preacher smiled. "And do you, Hans Gruber, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Hans looked at his wife to be. "I do." He said in his Danish accent. "Then by the powers invested in me...I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride." The preacher announced. Amanda and Hans shared a kiss, and their friends stood and clapped lightly.