I CAN’T SAY ‘ONE’ FOR A FEW REASONS.

The number doesn't describe the many thuds that are murdering my mind. But most importantly, two days have drifted by, into thin air since the life of Drake Storris drifted from earth. Eating at local diners isn't a problem, not if you live in a fucking town like Baysboro.

There's nothing special about the drenching town. More beat up than Detroit, although crimes are very low. Truth be told, I think I might be colour-blind. My dainty eyes haven't sucked any bright colours since I first came out of my mother, except for my blood. Baysboro's colours were the lightest of the endless colours.

I still can't get my head straight, as it leads me to a different direction. I have nowhere to go. I see the bright full moon coming to the face of the crystal night sky. I have a bundle of cash in my hand estimated, fifteen-hundred.

Drake's money is making something for me. The moon finally shows itself making me drown in worry. I find myself in the middle of a quiet street filled with bodies of people. They seem to be looking at me, perhaps it's because of my uncombed hair.

Is everyone looking at me? Do they think I'm a prostitute?

I hate thinking about being a lady of the evening. I remember it clearly, being sixteen and the cool Summer breeze flickering at me. It felt like there wasn't any air left, but I didn't mind that. The sound of money didn't want to leave my ear, and the thought of college was on the horizon.

I allowed myself to be seen by all. I had a low-cut dress, in fact, I stole it from Rachel. The dress looked like it was silk, and I cut the ass area myself. The click-clack of my heels bounced around the empty streets. The streetlamp buzzing was painful to look at, but I tried not to notice it.

The men didn't care about my age. They wanted a taste of the new little girl on the streets. In an effort to get my rates higher, I'd give the fuckers a few lies. I'd tell them that I was a pure girl, and that sold to them.

At times, I wanted to rip my own skin apart. A human's body is their temple, not another sex toy with batteries that'll soon expire.

But, now I’ve learned the body is a temple, one for enjoyment.

In an effort for the past to adrift, I close my eyes trying to wake myself up. I remind myself that this is a nightmare, one set in reality and one that I can't wake up from.

I look around and my eyes find a man. His feet seem to be heading my way. I dismiss him, the rather odd fellow. I feel the grasping hand on my neck and I quickly react. I turn around acting tough. Although I'm shocked, I try not to show it even though I know I'm not good at hiding it.

"I'm not for sale and I’ve got pepper spray," my high voice causes both of us to be surrounded by fear.

"I can tell," He chuckles out looking at me. I stay there with confusion in my mind, but I still stand strong. My image has never mattered to me. I've always said, True Americans Don't Care About What Others Think, yet I worry about my image. I don't want to him to think of me as weak, or that he can take advantage of me.

"No I just recognized you from TV, Anna Ripply," he chuckles and closes his darling eyes made of crystals. First Sabrina, now this man thinks I'm Anna. He, however, doesn't seem like he's a large fan of hers. He's probably a bystander or someone that happened to be watching the TV Channel, and saw my face or rather Anna's face,

"Is that so? Well, my personal life is personal and I hate fame," I say hoping that this man will leave me alone. He moves in on me, invading my air and my personal space. I can tell he wants to flirt with me but, I remind myself at the same time I'm not interested.

"Nice girl. Well, what are you doing out now?"

"Well uh-" I think for a moment about what I'm about to say. My brain and my vocal cords won't respond to me, forcing me to sadly improvise.

"You know that's none of your business," sadly my anger gets the best of me. I try to show compassion to him by releasing a shy rugged smile.

"I'm trying to be nice. It's cold, how about I give you a lift?" He shines off his perfect smile.

"To where?" I'm beginning to feel seduced, kind of intimidated. He doesn't say anything to me, but he speaks with his bluish eyes. I want to run away from him but, I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated or frightened... But I am.

"I have nowhere. Wait that doesn't make sense!" I curse at myself. My words aren't coming out as clear as I'd like them to be. But strangely this man laughs at me. Perhaps he's making fun of me. I roll my eyes and wait until this man stops chuckling.

"It does to me, come on, don't you own a hotel or something?"

"Yes! But it's being renovated," I say giving myself a warm smile for telling a beautiful lie.

"Well since you probably don't want me to take you to a motel, how about I take you to dinner? Please," I've never heard a strong handsome man say please to a girl. Including to a girl like me. That's when I remind myself that I am not myself, I'm Anna and also about a restaurant.

Most diners are closed now, and a restaurant would be great and how it would take my body into heaven. The warm temperature would invade my body. I need that right now.

"Sure, why not," I say hypothetically to him.

He simply nods at me, signalling me to follow him. His destination you may ask? A white Porsche, with blackened windows and a bumper sticker that says Wine. I smirk at him for a moment, then I flash my eyes at him.

"This is your car? I was expecting a Chevy or something," he doesn't respond to me. Instead, he simply opens the door for me, a pathetic homeless girl with her mouth wide open. I sit on the passenger's side, and he begins to drive. The road to the restaurant is silent as no words come out of our mouths.

The road itself to the restaurant, is very squished. Lots of buildings, beaten down. It seems as if they have no life, no energy and no reason to be there. The silence is killing me, but thank the lord it ends right when we go to the restaurant.

"This is it," he says to me as he takes his seat belt off. I gaze at the window and see the restaurant's name Asit Musre. I had never been to such a fine establishment such as this place. I didn't notice we were out of the broken part of town.

The restaurant is a high building, painted in a thick yellow. Lights flash everywhere, shining the large lot it's on. Many cars surround the area, making me surprised at how this man managed to find an empty car spot. I make it out of the car and we both enter the restaurant.

The nervous feeling enters my system as this man speaks to the hostess.

"Certainly, right away," she says and takes us to a table. This place seemed like a box of expensive German chocolates but the aroma was even better. The walls were polished and were decorated in fine simple gold. The ceiling was high and was a nice ovary.

The ground was of marble. My flats had no busy touching it. Each step I take is an apology to the fine establishment. The hostess leaves us. Our table is right by the window. But before I can sit, he pulls the chair out for me... Proving that he is a gentleman.

"So, you know who I am but I didn't seem to get your name," I say to him giving him a nice brimmed smile.

"Oh, it's, Nathan Milliener." He says admiring a breadstick. Gravity pulls my mouth to the table, and it's taken over by shock. I can't believe it.

"Oh, I've heard of you. Aren't you the son of Darrel Milliener? The man who owns the Northem California Wine Company."

"The Northem California Wine Barrel. Yes, we just a bought that house on Clark St."

"Shut up. I've lived on that street when I was a kid." We both share a tight laugh. I stop laughing when I remind myself that this man isn't made for me. But his beautiful smile is a magnet and it's pulling my affection for him.

"So what are your interests?" He asks. I take a sip of Cabernet. I like the fact that he's carefree but is very serious. It's kind of funny when you think about it, a rich man and I? Those were two things that would never meet each other, at least that's what my dad told me.

"Well, my interests come and go. They always seem to change,"

"That's a tad unusual Ms. Ripply," his voice seduces me, enough for me not to notice him saying my last name.

"I know, that's what I like about myself. Remember what Frost wrote," I begin to think about the phrase. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I, I took the road less traveled by. "If do what everyone else does and go with them and it seems easy, going to the hard road and being different will pay in a long shot."

"Of course, ... How do you know about this?" Frustration enters my body with this man! Clearly, he wants to be the dominant of this conversation. However, I like being in control in a few aspects of life. As I think of an answer, my eyes catch him. He's just looking at me. His eyes are glued to my face and his index finger is tapping the table. Each tap equals a bloody mental slap to my face.

"Oh when I was small my dad," I begin to say. I want to yell the truth out, the truth is that he would lock me in my room and I had nothing to do so I read books. "-would buy me a lot of books and I would be fascinated by them."

The young man cocks his eyebrow at me, yet his face seems frozen.

"Why?"

"Why do I like reading?" He nods and a grin appears on his million-dollar face.

"Cause you leave earth and go to the world of books, which is far better than this world." Perhaps the wine has taken control of my mind, but I'm almost certain I see a smirk on his face. He's very good at hiding and masking his emotions, making me wonder if he's a psychologist, trying to enter my mind.

His precious lips slither around the glass cup of wine. He takes a sip, but his eyes don't break away from mine. I feel the need to break the connection between us, but he won't allow it. Desperately trying to break free from him mentally, I beg myself to ask him a few questions.

"How old are you?" I'm not impressed with my question. Under stress and a very limited time-span, I panicked. I have never in my whole life, shrunk and hit the level of unintelligence.

"Twenty-three, I think I should ask you some questions." He mutters, with those oceanic eyes flooding me. I feel as if I've sunken, to the bottom of the ocean, yet he is still there to comfort me. My mouth stays closed, blocking him from entering my mind anymore. In my opinion, the reason as to why I won't speak is because of annoyance. I finally get my chance to start asking questions and he doesn't want me to? Who the hell is this man?

"Why? Why should you ask me?"

No answer.

He simply stays frozen, but the ghost of a smirk is seen. All this silence gives me a chance to think about seeing him, naked. Oh, I despise these fantasies. I gaze at him for a moment, and I see the same statue, and it's apparent that it won't move.

In an effort to distract myself from him, I focus on the wine bottle. He's probably not used to a strong woman. But then again, I imagine that he is strong too. The image of him naked enters my mind when he suddenly speaks.

"We have something in common." He says. Finally, words come out of his mouth!

"What would they be?"

"We both like to read, we have interests that never stay the same and..." I stop him. I think I caught a lie.

"... Wait you said something, not somethings."

"What's your point?" He asks.

"If you like books why would you make that mistake? Wouldn’t you be well in grammar?"

"We all make mistakes Anna. By the way, we both come from champagne and caviar," That's right if you compared him with Anna. But does it really matter? I disliked the idea of not allowing two people from separate classes from talking to each other. I'm waiting for him to say something but I realize that I'm the one that has to talk. I need to think of something fast.

Instead, I focus on him being nude.

His lips on mine, the warmth and delicious contact between him and I. When our lips would apart they'd slither down my sex. I imagine myself moaning in pleasure, curling my toes as he sucked hard. I wouldn't orgasm easily, even if the stimulation was almost reckoning. I can already feel my body becoming weak at the thought of it, and the sensation of it all.

His tongue flickering at my vagina, my sexual organ that would be in flames.

"Do you have any siblings?" I ask, exiting my fantasy.

"Yes indeed, two loving sisters." He says. His finger keeps tapping the table. I make eye contact with it but then I snap myself out of it. I need to back up the question or answer with something.

"How is it? Growing up with two sisters when you're a guy?"

"It's actually good. It brings you joy since you're the only male and the small one. So, they protect me and now I protect them."

"How fun."

We began to talk about his life more than mine. But when Nathan began to talk about me and wanted to know about my past, I made up an excuse. I had to leave, I didn't want him to know too much about me. This was a one-time thing, and a one-time thing only. We said our goodbyes in the end and went our separate ways. I went behind a store and slept there on the ground.

***

As I open my eyes now I look at my watch and see it's two in the morning. The cold wind brushes up against my face. The hard wall doesn't compliment my head, but thankfully it doesn't mind the coldness.

It’s times like these where I feel thankful for my childhood. My best friends might have been my dad’s fists but, I had a roof over my head. It was something I took for granted when people are begging and praying for it.

“Hey miss,” my gaze shifts to my left, and quickly catch the figure of a person a dozen or so feet away from me. My mouth stays shut, and I keep still.

“Hey!”

Fuck! His voice has the melody of drunkenness. I turn again to him, quickly realizing he’s closer than ever... Only five feet away from me. How should I reply to him? Gentle and sweet, but dominant of course.

“Uh, yes? Can I help you?” Mixed with bitchy attitude, I applaud at my speech. It’s now that I notice his facial details. A man with curly long blond hair, brown eyes, and a dirty beard. The smell of alcohol murders my nostrils.

I slowly get up. My finger attacks the pocket-knife in my pocket. Not yet, not yet.

“This is my spot!”

So he is a homeless man. I take a gulp, and move a few inches away from the hobo, just as the wind hits my face. The cool breeze almost seduces my mind from what is really happening.

“Sorry. I didn’t know-“

“-It’s alright doll-face!”

“Fuck you. Who the hell are you to speak to me like that?” I cock my eyebrows, taking a few dozen steps while he follows my trail.

“You little cunt!” He growls at me, enough for his alcohol breath to consume me. Fear rushes throughout my body, my eye widened. Without warning, the man lunges at me, his hands touch my throat. I fall back due to his massive force; hard horror fucks my head hard when I land on the ground.

His demon eyes, and hands remind me of, them... of Martin, Drake...

“You, dumb hoes are all the same!?”

My hand travels to my pocket, and I quickly grab the knife. The key is not to panic. He shakes his rusty old jacket, then kisses me on the lips.

I want to rip my skin off.

I quickly lower the knife onto his skull... Moments later, blood began to create a waterfall... Right then and there, this man was dead.

It’s so intimate to kill someone like that. Just like fucking em.

I was close to orgasm...

Yep, I’m crazy.