(Katherine)
We often wonder where our lives would have led if we would've made other decisions—taken another path when we came to those dreaded forks in the road. They say everything happened for a reason. Some believe our lives are predestined, and perhaps they were. Maybe, when it threw me loop after loop of tragedy, the universe knew I would take the most destructive route possible.
So, the days continued. Time: it twisted and twirled in an endless array of simple choices. "Would you like sugar in your coffee? Why don't you put in for the new promotion? Wanna go back to my place, babe?" All different paths. All molding us to who we became.
But who was I other than a washed-up never-was in the modeling industry? I was a distinctive face with big blue eyes, not so perky tits, and an ass that was impressive a good five years ago. I was what self-sabotage looked like. I was a goddamn joke.
The city buzzed, and people passed in a collection of success and chaos. Some were business professionals, others were bums who sat with their backs against the grimy New York buildings with their Styrofoam cups, awaiting their next dollar. For booze, food, or drugs, I didn't know. I didn't care. Every single person I staggered by was at least one decision better than me. Why? Because they had made the choice, while I wandered through the cluster of crowds in a daze—in a mental meltdown, no doubt triggered from the drugs still in my system from the night before.
Colors blurred all around, and for the first time in what felt like hours, my feet came to a stop. Horns blasted in random locations from all around, and humming from the voices made my head even fuzzier. A hot suit clipped my shoulder as he yelled into his phone. His words died off as his eyes raked up and down my body. Fuck me—oh yes, he would in a heartbeat. Yet, he kept walking, glancing over his shoulder to take me in as the mysteries of the world crushed any common sense I should have held.
Upheaval soared through my darkening thoughts, but confusion reigned supreme. Still, I stayed rooted amass the surging people plowing into me. My blonde hair blew to cover my eyes, and it was as though I were invisible. And maybe I was. Was I even here—alive? Could the combination of the liquor and cocaine have finished me off? I had popped a pill at some point. A triple stacked gator promising a night of heated fucking with a stranger. Perhaps the mixture chased my soul from my near-perfect body. And that's what everyone thought, didn't they? That I was something of a prize? That I had it better than so many others because of my genes? Genes. They were a curse to us all. They held first impressions. They condemned us and made us targets. I had always been in the light, standing out to people with bad intentions. Why wouldn't I? It didn't take a neon sign to get predators to latch to pretty prey.
"Move it, lady!"
I stumbled at the collision, barely hearing the man wearing a watch that cost more than my entire wardrobe. A hand wrapped around my waist, catching and righting me as the pavement grew closer. But I didn't see who saved me. Their hold was firm through the slow motion of my mind. Safe, like a whisper of security.
Heavily, my eyes blinked, and vomit burned the back of my throat. I was tired. Lost. Tighter, fingers pushed into my stomach, and I let them. I was walking again, letting this person lead me to a destination only he knew. And it was a he. The rich aftershave fought through the smog and trash wafting through the stifling street. I let the exotic scent engulf me, rooting deep into my mind as if it, or he, were meant to stay with me forever. Yelling sounded, a tone hypnotic and smooth. And we were getting into a cab. Dirty, but clean in appearance...like me.
"Let me help you home. Where do you live?"
I turned, using strength I wasn't sure I had to gaze into dark eyes. Black eyes. But it wasn't the pitch of their brown shade that darkened their depths. Secrets. He had them. We all did, but his energy made thoughts come flooding back into my mind. Intuition screamed for me to run—to leave this man's side right this instant and seek protection.
Forks. I always took the wrong path. And by the pull I felt to this stranger, I knew this time wasn't any different. The smart thing would have been to get out of the cab and flee, but I stayed, gazing into his handsome features. Searching this monster's stare. Connecting with demons related to my own. The tiny voice inside hinted of danger. It promised some sort of mistake, and I accepted that. For the first time in hours, I made a choice. One, deep down, I was sure I'd come to regret.
"983 Morris Street."