__________________she broke your crown and cut your hair_________________
Models I thought had a story behind their faces. For the role-play "to feel wanted".
Character bio:
Name
From (example; city, state)
--YOUR FANTASTIC BIO
-model (not overused)
taken by: you, hopefully!
Character bio:
Name
From (example; city, state)
--YOUR FANTASTIC BIO
-model (not overused)
taken by: you, hopefully!
Comment 21 likes
Thursday, 12/8/11
Valerie Cocha
WA
~
This is going to be a short and sweet story, just to set a background for Valerie and Shane’s relationship :) Sorry Mods for being so inactive! You’ve probably heard of finals and how they tend to come out of nowhere
Shane: easy-going, proud, comic, sharp
~
There’s something about his house that just makes me want to melt. Not in the heart stopping, Oh Please Just Kiss Me NOW kind of way, but in a smooth fashion. My breathing slows, my eyes flutter, and I just want to cry and laugh and, oh I just want to sleep!
I flop onto his bed and huff like a teenager. I guess I am a teenager. Hell, compared to Shane’s uptight, grand-pa lawyer “friends” I’m just a baby he’s messing with. But we both know it’s not like that. It’s not love, but it’s an understanding not even I can think of living without. For now.
He’s in the shower and the steam makes me even drowsier. I find myself dosing off, his creaky radio humming in the background to one of the stations I introduced him to. I’m such an awesome influence.
I snort and roll over, wrapping my legs securely around the blankets and sigh again. Every time I shut my eyes I see Tilly’s face: distraught, crusty tears. I see Jaz’s cold eyes, but warm embrace. Both of the images confused me.
Everyone at the Waldorf-Astoria has secrets. This I know for sure. I flinch and think of my own secret: my little sister back in Florida with my mother struggling with a disease… but what disease? I don’t even know what to call it. Bipolar depression? Schizoid? God! I’m so awful. How could I leave my baby sister? I had to go back, I must go back or she could-
“Hey.”
I open my eyes and Shane is across from, his hair still damp. I frown, “Hey.”
He raises an eyebrow and wraps an arm around my waist, “Hm, something wrong?”
I sigh, “Where to begin?”
“The beginning,” he says.
“Smartass,” I say back, but I laugh. We stare at each other in silence, and my laughter fades. I look down at our hands. His brown eyes blink once, twice, I can feel the air his lashes create fold towards me. It comes in sharp waves, and I feel ashamed.
Trust. Isn’t that what those hundred year old couples say is the foundation to a relationship? I wasn’t trustworthy. I may be a maid, but I stole for a living.
“That’s okay.” Shane whispers and nuzzles my neck, “You don’t have to tell me the bad things.” He breathes me in and kisses my neck, “It can wait till tomorrow. The bad things can always wait, they’re good at that.”
I laugh. I snuggle into his arms, “How was your day, Shane Oshingt?”
Round we go. Again and again. Our relationship wasn’t a game. But there were a million places in my mind he let me hide in.
Valerie Cocha
WA
~
This is going to be a short and sweet story, just to set a background for Valerie and Shane’s relationship :) Sorry Mods for being so inactive! You’ve probably heard of finals and how they tend to come out of nowhere
Shane: easy-going, proud, comic, sharp
~
There’s something about his house that just makes me want to melt. Not in the heart stopping, Oh Please Just Kiss Me NOW kind of way, but in a smooth fashion. My breathing slows, my eyes flutter, and I just want to cry and laugh and, oh I just want to sleep!
I flop onto his bed and huff like a teenager. I guess I am a teenager. Hell, compared to Shane’s uptight, grand-pa lawyer “friends” I’m just a baby he’s messing with. But we both know it’s not like that. It’s not love, but it’s an understanding not even I can think of living without. For now.
He’s in the shower and the steam makes me even drowsier. I find myself dosing off, his creaky radio humming in the background to one of the stations I introduced him to. I’m such an awesome influence.
I snort and roll over, wrapping my legs securely around the blankets and sigh again. Every time I shut my eyes I see Tilly’s face: distraught, crusty tears. I see Jaz’s cold eyes, but warm embrace. Both of the images confused me.
Everyone at the Waldorf-Astoria has secrets. This I know for sure. I flinch and think of my own secret: my little sister back in Florida with my mother struggling with a disease… but what disease? I don’t even know what to call it. Bipolar depression? Schizoid? God! I’m so awful. How could I leave my baby sister? I had to go back, I must go back or she could-
“Hey.”
I open my eyes and Shane is across from, his hair still damp. I frown, “Hey.”
He raises an eyebrow and wraps an arm around my waist, “Hm, something wrong?”
I sigh, “Where to begin?”
“The beginning,” he says.
“Smartass,” I say back, but I laugh. We stare at each other in silence, and my laughter fades. I look down at our hands. His brown eyes blink once, twice, I can feel the air his lashes create fold towards me. It comes in sharp waves, and I feel ashamed.
Trust. Isn’t that what those hundred year old couples say is the foundation to a relationship? I wasn’t trustworthy. I may be a maid, but I stole for a living.
“That’s okay.” Shane whispers and nuzzles my neck, “You don’t have to tell me the bad things.” He breathes me in and kisses my neck, “It can wait till tomorrow. The bad things can always wait, they’re good at that.”
I laugh. I snuggle into his arms, “How was your day, Shane Oshingt?”
Round we go. Again and again. Our relationship wasn’t a game. But there were a million places in my mind he let me hide in.
Two comments 63 likes
Mods, I will not be able to make a set after today until Tuesday! Sorry I have family drama going on.
~
A look into the life and times of Valeire Cocha would make any tough sailor green. I’m a hot mess with a sweet disposition, and I zip up and down the halls like a wild animal. I have manners, but they are few, and I find myself snatching the hands of sin over and over again. First there were some broken Chanel earrings that I stole, yesterday a black pair of leather boots. A mess, yes that was the thing I’d become.
Add in a broken home and an abandoned fourteen year old half sister, and you’ve caught me… Metaphorically speaking, of course.
When I look back, I can’t pinpoint the date Soleil and I started our little exchanges. I feel like we are bonded somehow: we both escaped from our families, steal anything that shines, but then I think of our personalities and I almost laugh. Her sarcastic humor and cold eyes could never mix easily with my always welcome smile and girly giggles. We aren’t anything alike. But we need each other for some twisted reason.
I walk into the hotel and she’s already behind the counter, black shadows under eyes. I smile and she grimaces. She holds out a limp piece of paper with her gnarled hand-writing spread across it hazardously.
“Here’s a list of the rooms that were vacated last night,” she says. I glance down at the page and the spray paint partially hidden underneath her sleeve gleams in the chandelier light like a wound, “I’ve already given half to Camille.”
“Thanks, Soleil.” I flash another smile, and her grimace slides. Now she just looks bored. I skip to one of the elevators, visions of forgotten pearl necklaces and scuffed heels dancing in my brain. I really needed to try to get closer to Soleil. I needed to know that if one of us got caught we would defend each other.
The elevator doors slide open easily and out comes Tilly. Her blonde hair is teetering over and her eyes widen in surprise when she sees me. Tilly was always friendly, but sometimes I felt like she had a secret worth sharing. I smile, “Tilly!”
“Val, you’re early,” she says as she steps out of the quickly sliding doors.
I shrug, “How’ve you been, Tilly?”
“Fine! Fine! I love your jacket.”
“Thanks babe. Got a problem?” I sort of motion to her anxiety drawn posture.
“Oh thank God,” she says sweetly, “I’ve just answered a room call from 315. There’s been a suicide.”
“Oh,” I blink, “my God.”
“I know!” Tilly grips my hand, “it’s awful. [Insert Chambermaid name here] walked in on it, and she won’t talk to anybody. She downright left. Oh no, it was awful. And the smell…”
Another hand seems to materialize out of no where and Jazmine is there, followed by Cira. “Tilly?” Jaz says worriedly, “why do you need me to take your hour? I told you, the restaurant’s packed…”
“There’s been a suicide.” All of us jump and turn to Soleil. Her face is grave, “Sorry I couldn’t help overhear. Jazmine, Tilly needs to call the police, you gotta take over front desk for her.”
“What?” Circa asks in her sultry accent that crashes against the mood of the conversation like a bad joke. “A suicide? Here, at the Waldorf?”
Tilly whimpers and Jazmine hugs her, looking at me and Soleil like we were the masterminds behind the death.
I sigh, the reality of the unexpected event crashing over me like a heated wave. “Cira,” I say, “can you please take Tilly to the phone. She knows what’s happened the best. Soleil, call the owner, and please try not to be a snot,” she rolls her eyes at this and turns smoothly back to the entrance of the hotel. I look at Jaz helplessly.
I can tell her minds racing, but she returns the gaze calmly, “Val, go find some of the guys and clear the floor off. I’ll make sure the guests don’t suspect a thing. Don’t go in the room; just block it off so no one else goes in there. This needs to stay quiet or we’ll loose so much business. I need this job!”
“I know, I know. God, everybody here does.” I rub my hands over my face.
She smiles and pats my shoulder before disappearing to the front like Soleil.
I shiver as I step into the elevator. The doors shut behind me. I’m alone.
~
alright I tried my best to add everybody! I hope a suicide’s appropriate. I thought it’d be an easy way to get a lot of the staff together. If I didn’t add you, I’ll try to add you in my next story!
~
A look into the life and times of Valeire Cocha would make any tough sailor green. I’m a hot mess with a sweet disposition, and I zip up and down the halls like a wild animal. I have manners, but they are few, and I find myself snatching the hands of sin over and over again. First there were some broken Chanel earrings that I stole, yesterday a black pair of leather boots. A mess, yes that was the thing I’d become.
Add in a broken home and an abandoned fourteen year old half sister, and you’ve caught me… Metaphorically speaking, of course.
When I look back, I can’t pinpoint the date Soleil and I started our little exchanges. I feel like we are bonded somehow: we both escaped from our families, steal anything that shines, but then I think of our personalities and I almost laugh. Her sarcastic humor and cold eyes could never mix easily with my always welcome smile and girly giggles. We aren’t anything alike. But we need each other for some twisted reason.
I walk into the hotel and she’s already behind the counter, black shadows under eyes. I smile and she grimaces. She holds out a limp piece of paper with her gnarled hand-writing spread across it hazardously.
“Here’s a list of the rooms that were vacated last night,” she says. I glance down at the page and the spray paint partially hidden underneath her sleeve gleams in the chandelier light like a wound, “I’ve already given half to Camille.”
“Thanks, Soleil.” I flash another smile, and her grimace slides. Now she just looks bored. I skip to one of the elevators, visions of forgotten pearl necklaces and scuffed heels dancing in my brain. I really needed to try to get closer to Soleil. I needed to know that if one of us got caught we would defend each other.
The elevator doors slide open easily and out comes Tilly. Her blonde hair is teetering over and her eyes widen in surprise when she sees me. Tilly was always friendly, but sometimes I felt like she had a secret worth sharing. I smile, “Tilly!”
“Val, you’re early,” she says as she steps out of the quickly sliding doors.
I shrug, “How’ve you been, Tilly?”
“Fine! Fine! I love your jacket.”
“Thanks babe. Got a problem?” I sort of motion to her anxiety drawn posture.
“Oh thank God,” she says sweetly, “I’ve just answered a room call from 315. There’s been a suicide.”
“Oh,” I blink, “my God.”
“I know!” Tilly grips my hand, “it’s awful. [Insert Chambermaid name here] walked in on it, and she won’t talk to anybody. She downright left. Oh no, it was awful. And the smell…”
Another hand seems to materialize out of no where and Jazmine is there, followed by Cira. “Tilly?” Jaz says worriedly, “why do you need me to take your hour? I told you, the restaurant’s packed…”
“There’s been a suicide.” All of us jump and turn to Soleil. Her face is grave, “Sorry I couldn’t help overhear. Jazmine, Tilly needs to call the police, you gotta take over front desk for her.”
“What?” Circa asks in her sultry accent that crashes against the mood of the conversation like a bad joke. “A suicide? Here, at the Waldorf?”
Tilly whimpers and Jazmine hugs her, looking at me and Soleil like we were the masterminds behind the death.
I sigh, the reality of the unexpected event crashing over me like a heated wave. “Cira,” I say, “can you please take Tilly to the phone. She knows what’s happened the best. Soleil, call the owner, and please try not to be a snot,” she rolls her eyes at this and turns smoothly back to the entrance of the hotel. I look at Jaz helplessly.
I can tell her minds racing, but she returns the gaze calmly, “Val, go find some of the guys and clear the floor off. I’ll make sure the guests don’t suspect a thing. Don’t go in the room; just block it off so no one else goes in there. This needs to stay quiet or we’ll loose so much business. I need this job!”
“I know, I know. God, everybody here does.” I rub my hands over my face.
She smiles and pats my shoulder before disappearing to the front like Soleil.
I shiver as I step into the elevator. The doors shut behind me. I’m alone.
~
alright I tried my best to add everybody! I hope a suicide’s appropriate. I thought it’d be an easy way to get a lot of the staff together. If I didn’t add you, I’ll try to add you in my next story!
15 comments 63 likes
Valerie Cocha ,19
Jameson, Florida
Job: Chamber Maid
Personality: mirthful, friendly, old-soul, intense, distrustful
Bio: Valerie is only seen as a blonde blur, whizzing through the hotel with laughter crashing into the polished walls behind her. Valerie wants to be everybody’s friend, and knows how to make them. She’s charming and has a strange sense of humor that can leave even the most uptight businessman smiling. But some of the staff finds her easygoing nature misleading and watch her with a wary eye. Her thrown back head and random high-fives seem almost fake, and her way of insisting on working alone suspicious. The truth? Valerie’s been stealing from the hotel for almost four months now. She feels awful about it, but the idea of going back home to Florida was more horrifying than sneaking around. No one knows, despite the light uncertainty, and Valerie is a good actress. She holds a mask of easy-indifference in front of her personality everywhere she goes, and shakes off her increasing fear. Valerie understands that she can’t keep the lies up forever, and her stress level rises after every bitter success.
Model: alisa matviychuk
Collection: http://www.polyvore.com/theres_darkness_in_you/collection?id=1239616
~
Hey ladies, I’m Valerie Cocha! I’m pretty easy to get along with, and I’ve been living in New York for about a year, and working “diligently” at the WA for ten months starting this December. I’m very talkative and kind of wild, but don’t point fingers if I drag you into some crazy situations!
~
Working at the Waldorf-Astoria for 10 months
~
hey I’m Mackenzie or kenzie, and I’m halfway through my sophomore year. I love adding characters to my stories and making friendships and enemies. Comment any fantastic story ideas you have below and feel free to pm me!
Jameson, Florida
Job: Chamber Maid
Personality: mirthful, friendly, old-soul, intense, distrustful
Bio: Valerie is only seen as a blonde blur, whizzing through the hotel with laughter crashing into the polished walls behind her. Valerie wants to be everybody’s friend, and knows how to make them. She’s charming and has a strange sense of humor that can leave even the most uptight businessman smiling. But some of the staff finds her easygoing nature misleading and watch her with a wary eye. Her thrown back head and random high-fives seem almost fake, and her way of insisting on working alone suspicious. The truth? Valerie’s been stealing from the hotel for almost four months now. She feels awful about it, but the idea of going back home to Florida was more horrifying than sneaking around. No one knows, despite the light uncertainty, and Valerie is a good actress. She holds a mask of easy-indifference in front of her personality everywhere she goes, and shakes off her increasing fear. Valerie understands that she can’t keep the lies up forever, and her stress level rises after every bitter success.
Model: alisa matviychuk
Collection: http://www.polyvore.com/theres_darkness_in_you/collection?id=1239616
~
Hey ladies, I’m Valerie Cocha! I’m pretty easy to get along with, and I’ve been living in New York for about a year, and working “diligently” at the WA for ten months starting this December. I’m very talkative and kind of wild, but don’t point fingers if I drag you into some crazy situations!
~
Working at the Waldorf-Astoria for 10 months
~
hey I’m Mackenzie or kenzie, and I’m halfway through my sophomore year. I love adding characters to my stories and making friendships and enemies. Comment any fantastic story ideas you have below and feel free to pm me!
16 comments 73 likes
Valerie Cocha ,19
Jameson, Florida
Job: Chamber Maid
Personality: mirthful, friendly, old-soul, intense, distrustful
Bio: Valerie is only seen as a blonde blur, whizzing through the hotel with laughter crashing into the polished walls behind her. Valerie wants to be everybody’s friend, and knows how to make them. She’s charming and has a strange sense of humor that can leave even the most uptight businessman smiling. But some of the staff finds her easygoing nature misleading and watch her with a wary eye. Her thrown back head and random high-fives seem almost fake, and her way of insisting on working alone suspicious. The truth? Valerie’s been stealing from the hotel for almost four months now. She feels awful about it, but the idea of going back home to Florida was more horrifying than sneaking around. No one knows, despite the light uncertainty, and Valerie is a good actress. She holds a mask of easy-indifference in front of her personality everywhere she goes, and shakes off her increasing fear. Valerie understands that she can’t keep the lies up forever, and her stress level rises after every bitter success.
Model: alisa matviychuk
Jameson, Florida
Job: Chamber Maid
Personality: mirthful, friendly, old-soul, intense, distrustful
Bio: Valerie is only seen as a blonde blur, whizzing through the hotel with laughter crashing into the polished walls behind her. Valerie wants to be everybody’s friend, and knows how to make them. She’s charming and has a strange sense of humor that can leave even the most uptight businessman smiling. But some of the staff finds her easygoing nature misleading and watch her with a wary eye. Her thrown back head and random high-fives seem almost fake, and her way of insisting on working alone suspicious. The truth? Valerie’s been stealing from the hotel for almost four months now. She feels awful about it, but the idea of going back home to Florida was more horrifying than sneaking around. No one knows, despite the light uncertainty, and Valerie is a good actress. She holds a mask of easy-indifference in front of her personality everywhere she goes, and shakes off her increasing fear. Valerie understands that she can’t keep the lies up forever, and her stress level rises after every bitter success.
Model: alisa matviychuk
Comment 23 likes
A tryout for TWA @istylista and @chanel-and-pastels.
Valerie Cocha ,19
Jameson, Florida
Job: Chamber Maid
Personality: mirthful, friendly, old-soul, intense, distrustful
Bio: Valerie is only seen as a blonde blur, whizzing through the hotel with laughter crashing into the polished walls behind her. Valerie wants to be everybody’s friend, and knows how to make them. She’s charming and has a strange sense of humor that can leave even the most uptight businessman smiling. But some of the staff finds her easygoing nature misleading and watch her with a wary eye. Her thrown back head and random high-fives seem almost fake, and her way of insisting on working alone suspicious. The truth? Valerie’s been stealing from the hotel for almost four months now. She feels awful about it, but the idea of going back home to Florida was more horrifying than sneaking around. No one knows, despite the light uncertainty, and Valerie is a good actress. She holds a mask of easy-indifference in front of her personality everywhere she goes, and shakes off her increasing fear. Valerie understands that she can’t keep the lies up forever, and her stress level rises after every bitter success.
Model: alisa matviychuk
Collection:
There is no rush. No swoop of the stomach and no uncontrollable giggles that rise out of the tip of your throat and choke your tongue as they bubble out. Because now there is no adrenaline every time I snatch a neglected silk top that the diva from room Room 214 won’t notice missing. No rise of success when I take and snitch, replace.
I am a machine with no ending. Once I just had to pay rent. Just once, I thought to myself. Then I’ll be fine. It happened in Room 455, and I went home and cried because I knew that it was all over. It was the Waldorf Astoria, after all. With it’s gleaming glass windows that block out the noise of the city, the click of shoes I can’t afford on the floors, the shake of the chandeliers and the sparkle my fellow workers force into their eye every time they address a man whose day’s payment would last us for a week.
I hate the men with seven hundred dollar wallets and suits that look handcrafted by Angels.
I hate them.
I look so wild and funny and fierce all the time. I know what my friends see. But inside I’m just a black ball of hate twirling and growing until it bleeds over my edges for everyone to see. I think of my family back home in Florida and wince. No, it wasn’t the guests I had to smile sweetly at everyday that sent me on edge, it was my family.
How dare I? I left my sister in that house. Florida, my home: an awful place where the sun doesn’t shine no matter how hard it tries. I’m the monster. Not my mother. I am. I left her. I left them both. I broke the rules of sisterhood and left my baby sister. How dare I?
I straighten the sheets and wipe my eyes. I can’t work with anyone else, not because I don’t want to steal something in front of them, I’m a good liar, I could shoo them away fast enough to snatch a blouse, a ring, but because I seem to mentally break down once a week in random spots. Today, I’m working on a Saturday.
I would be out with some of the girls right now, but I knew that today just wasn’t going to be a good day. I had that gnawing feeling in my chest, and I kept feeling like someone was watching me. This would not be a good time to steal something. I sniff again and then a laugh of pain at my own pathetic self bursts out of me. I shut my mouth and scream as I plump up the pillows. God, What Am I Doing?
I kick the bottom of the gleaming bed and the shock of pain makes me feel better. I turn around to grab my cart of bed sheets, and then I see it. It’s beautiful: a leather boot from last season’s weird killer lace-up faze. It’s scuffed at the bottom and one of the strings is broken. I could easily fix that. I spin around and check the room. Of course no one’s there.
I chew my lip and an unexpected fear enters me, like it had on the first times. I really shouldn’t, but I want that boot. I need that boot. Where’s its match? I scramble quickly around the room and find its match, who’s in even worse shape, in the trashcan. Oh God, it's so perfect. This is fate, I need these shoes!
I smile, an overwhelming and false sense of security rushing over me like warm sunlight. I whip around one more time then bend down and grab the boots soft leather and dig my fingernails into it. I grab the other shoe and launch back to my cart. I’ve spent too much time in this room and needed to hurry.
I swing open the door with the back of my Dr. Martins and push the cart out of the room like a madman. I was a madman. I laugh at my own success, happier that I’ve been in weeks in one breath. Then I see her. She’s standing with her arms crossed in triumph, but her face is dead of emotion. I stare back into the eyes of one of my fellow employees.
My backs still to the hallway wall and my hands slacken on the cart that greatly exposes the pair of huge boots.
Fuck.
I’m such an idiot.
“Hey, Val.” She chirps, her eyes flashing and contradicting her cheerful tone. Then she smiles a deadly smile, the smiles I see on the wealthy women that glide in the WA like they own the place. They could if they wanted to. But this girl doesn’t. She’s broke, like me. It’s a ridiculous thought but it gives me strength.
“Are you going to tell them?”
My thrown back shoulders and burning gaze doesn’t frighten her, she looks easy-going, smooth, like she expected me to fight back. The girl stands closer and slides a delicate finger over the glossy boots that aren’t even mine. I can hear her breathing, she’s excited. I glare at her. I hate this girl now. We were slight friends before. That ship has sailed and left no trace. She’s holding her true colors up like a flag.
“Only if you give me reason too.” That smile again, poisonously sweet. The girl walks off, her heels clacking on the floor.
I sigh. It’s not her fault. I mean, yeah her reaction is her fault, but it was me that grabbed the boots. My chest rises and I know I’m going to cry. God, I have a problem. I try to calmly roll the cart to the next room before the tears come.
Reasons why I should be in TWA:
I’m a very active person, and I like to weave my characters into intricate and deep patterns. I love to make characters seem almost real. Also I connect my stories with other members, (I know some mods have issues getting people to interact with each other, and I am most definitely not one of those people!). I am in love with Valerie already, and it would be great if I got to write for her.
Valerie Cocha ,19
Jameson, Florida
Job: Chamber Maid
Personality: mirthful, friendly, old-soul, intense, distrustful
Bio: Valerie is only seen as a blonde blur, whizzing through the hotel with laughter crashing into the polished walls behind her. Valerie wants to be everybody’s friend, and knows how to make them. She’s charming and has a strange sense of humor that can leave even the most uptight businessman smiling. But some of the staff finds her easygoing nature misleading and watch her with a wary eye. Her thrown back head and random high-fives seem almost fake, and her way of insisting on working alone suspicious. The truth? Valerie’s been stealing from the hotel for almost four months now. She feels awful about it, but the idea of going back home to Florida was more horrifying than sneaking around. No one knows, despite the light uncertainty, and Valerie is a good actress. She holds a mask of easy-indifference in front of her personality everywhere she goes, and shakes off her increasing fear. Valerie understands that she can’t keep the lies up forever, and her stress level rises after every bitter success.
Model: alisa matviychuk
Collection:
There is no rush. No swoop of the stomach and no uncontrollable giggles that rise out of the tip of your throat and choke your tongue as they bubble out. Because now there is no adrenaline every time I snatch a neglected silk top that the diva from room Room 214 won’t notice missing. No rise of success when I take and snitch, replace.
I am a machine with no ending. Once I just had to pay rent. Just once, I thought to myself. Then I’ll be fine. It happened in Room 455, and I went home and cried because I knew that it was all over. It was the Waldorf Astoria, after all. With it’s gleaming glass windows that block out the noise of the city, the click of shoes I can’t afford on the floors, the shake of the chandeliers and the sparkle my fellow workers force into their eye every time they address a man whose day’s payment would last us for a week.
I hate the men with seven hundred dollar wallets and suits that look handcrafted by Angels.
I hate them.
I look so wild and funny and fierce all the time. I know what my friends see. But inside I’m just a black ball of hate twirling and growing until it bleeds over my edges for everyone to see. I think of my family back home in Florida and wince. No, it wasn’t the guests I had to smile sweetly at everyday that sent me on edge, it was my family.
How dare I? I left my sister in that house. Florida, my home: an awful place where the sun doesn’t shine no matter how hard it tries. I’m the monster. Not my mother. I am. I left her. I left them both. I broke the rules of sisterhood and left my baby sister. How dare I?
I straighten the sheets and wipe my eyes. I can’t work with anyone else, not because I don’t want to steal something in front of them, I’m a good liar, I could shoo them away fast enough to snatch a blouse, a ring, but because I seem to mentally break down once a week in random spots. Today, I’m working on a Saturday.
I would be out with some of the girls right now, but I knew that today just wasn’t going to be a good day. I had that gnawing feeling in my chest, and I kept feeling like someone was watching me. This would not be a good time to steal something. I sniff again and then a laugh of pain at my own pathetic self bursts out of me. I shut my mouth and scream as I plump up the pillows. God, What Am I Doing?
I kick the bottom of the gleaming bed and the shock of pain makes me feel better. I turn around to grab my cart of bed sheets, and then I see it. It’s beautiful: a leather boot from last season’s weird killer lace-up faze. It’s scuffed at the bottom and one of the strings is broken. I could easily fix that. I spin around and check the room. Of course no one’s there.
I chew my lip and an unexpected fear enters me, like it had on the first times. I really shouldn’t, but I want that boot. I need that boot. Where’s its match? I scramble quickly around the room and find its match, who’s in even worse shape, in the trashcan. Oh God, it's so perfect. This is fate, I need these shoes!
I smile, an overwhelming and false sense of security rushing over me like warm sunlight. I whip around one more time then bend down and grab the boots soft leather and dig my fingernails into it. I grab the other shoe and launch back to my cart. I’ve spent too much time in this room and needed to hurry.
I swing open the door with the back of my Dr. Martins and push the cart out of the room like a madman. I was a madman. I laugh at my own success, happier that I’ve been in weeks in one breath. Then I see her. She’s standing with her arms crossed in triumph, but her face is dead of emotion. I stare back into the eyes of one of my fellow employees.
My backs still to the hallway wall and my hands slacken on the cart that greatly exposes the pair of huge boots.
Fuck.
I’m such an idiot.
“Hey, Val.” She chirps, her eyes flashing and contradicting her cheerful tone. Then she smiles a deadly smile, the smiles I see on the wealthy women that glide in the WA like they own the place. They could if they wanted to. But this girl doesn’t. She’s broke, like me. It’s a ridiculous thought but it gives me strength.
“Are you going to tell them?”
My thrown back shoulders and burning gaze doesn’t frighten her, she looks easy-going, smooth, like she expected me to fight back. The girl stands closer and slides a delicate finger over the glossy boots that aren’t even mine. I can hear her breathing, she’s excited. I glare at her. I hate this girl now. We were slight friends before. That ship has sailed and left no trace. She’s holding her true colors up like a flag.
“Only if you give me reason too.” That smile again, poisonously sweet. The girl walks off, her heels clacking on the floor.
I sigh. It’s not her fault. I mean, yeah her reaction is her fault, but it was me that grabbed the boots. My chest rises and I know I’m going to cry. God, I have a problem. I try to calmly roll the cart to the next room before the tears come.
Reasons why I should be in TWA:
I’m a very active person, and I like to weave my characters into intricate and deep patterns. I love to make characters seem almost real. Also I connect my stories with other members, (I know some mods have issues getting people to interact with each other, and I am most definitely not one of those people!). I am in love with Valerie already, and it would be great if I got to write for her.
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p o s т т н i s o n y o u r p a g e i f y o u l o v є GOD. 98% o f y o u w o n ' t.
sixteen, mackenzie/kenzie
about moi? my spirit animal is (apparently) a rooster, my favorite color is the rainbow, i love pie, i like guys, and i'm currently reading '11/22/63' by stephen king. i live in a small town in a big country and i'm sometimes on here a lot or not at all. PM me anytime!
sixteen, mackenzie/kenzie
about moi? my spirit animal is (apparently) a rooster, my favorite color is the rainbow, i love pie, i like guys, and i'm currently reading '11/22/63' by stephen king. i live in a small town in a big country and i'm sometimes on here a lot or not at all. PM me anytime!
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