Story #8

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It was a rainy night, as my $500 frontal wig got damaged by the piercing rain droplets. I was running somewhere, but where? I could feel the terror in my run, the fear in my heart, the tremble of my lip and the staggered pace of my run all pointed to signs that I was not in any way sober. I felt the panic take over me, as I kept looking back and forth making sure nobody's following me. My pace began to slow, as I looked back one more time and saw someone in a black hoodie standing at the end of the sidewalk behind me. My heart dropped, as I realized that I was indeed being chased. In fact, the faster I ran, the closer this person came to me. I looked behind my path for a second, and tripped over my own shoelace, as it became untied. The person in the hoodie came closer and closer to me, and when I looked closely, I realized that they were holding a gambling license in their left hand and a knife in their right hand. I looked closer and I realized that they were holding MY gambling license, as their weapon got closer to my face and I screamed, then all of a sudden I woke up...


"Ma'am, are you okay?", the bartender asked me. Her long brown hair and judgmental eyes stared through my soul. I cleared my throat, "Yes, sorry." I looked around and it all became too familiar. I felt like I knew where I was, but I didn't at the same time. I saw a girl and a boy walking over to me smiling, and I just awkwardly smiled back. "SZA, please don't tell us you have been sitting here at the bar the ENTIRE time." The boy said. "Umm... okay I won't tell you that then. If I told you I didn't know WHAT I've been doing, would you believe me?" I said in all seriousness. They looked at me for a second and then laughed, and I laughed with them. I was genuinely confused. "Girl you funny, anyways.. come play a game with us or something. Take your mind off of that weirdo who broke your heart." The girl said. "Okay, give me a second and I'll join you guys." I replied. I watched them walk away and noted where they were. I didn't even know their names, are these people my friends? I opened my clutch and looked through my phone. Luckily, I saw the message group chat I had called "The Dildos" which included a person named Pope Heyward that looked identical to the guy I was just talking to, and a white girl who was very alt-right that was named Dua Lipa and she looked just like the girl I was talking to. So, these people ARE my friends. Do I have a home? Do I have a car? All these thoughts were running through my head, I thought that I was dead. Am I in heaven? What happened to the person chasing me? Did I just go into an alcohol induced coma, what's going on? I was getting caught up by my thoughts, when the white girl Dua dragged me to the table. At the table sat Dua, Pope, and two extra girls who were wearing extremely revealing clothes and sat beside these ugly ass boys. I don't know why my friends were friends with these crackheads, but I just went along with it. "Okay everyone, meet SZA." I smiled for a second then put on a straight face. They looked at me jealously. "I bet she doesn't even know what gambling IS." one of the girls whispered. I looked her up and down, her hair looked stiff and her body was bad built, and her teeth were yellow as hell. "Girl do you know what a toothbrush is? Close your mouth don't nobody wanna see them corn pellets. Why you built like Perry the Platypus standing up?" The table was shocked at my remark. I laughed it off, and said "Anyway's lets play." I was waiting for someone to pass out the cards, when I saw everyone reaching in their bags/purses and pulling out cash. Someone pulled out a toaster, and someone even pulled out their whole ass debit card. I felt around and digged inside my clutch, and only found a clam. I slid the clam on the table and everyone snickered. I glared at them and they all kept quiet. "Oh, so it's funny? Fine. Let's play roulette, and for this one you don't bet anything. Anything but the one thing that's precious to every human being.. a life." Everyone looked in disbelief. I smiled. Pope whispered in my ear, "Are you sure you want to do this?", "Yes I'm sure." I said loudly." In fact, let's all put our gambling ID's right here on the table."

I dug around in my clutch some more, and pulled out the gambling ID I saw earlier. I slammed it on the table. I stood up, and went around to each person at the table as I watched them pull out their ID and hand it to me. "Alright so we have SZA, Dua, Zayn, Madison, and Pope. Good luck guys. May the best competitor stay alive." I put the ID's in the betting bucket that went underneath the table, and the game was on. We all placed our bets on numbers, and I picked 12. The ball went into the middle of the board, spun around, and everyone closed their eyes. I looked while the ball rolled and rolled, I got dizzy, almost fainting from the presssure and stress. I closed my eyes for a second, opened them, and saw that the ball landed on a 3. The only person to pick 3 was the black haired dude, who grinned at the sight of his win. I was about to call him out on cheating, when all of a sudden the lights went out in the entire casino. Luckily I had my phone still, I turned on my phone flashlight towards the ground and saw that not only did everyone from the table completely vanished, but there was the dude in the hoodie, standing across from me. Sitting DIRECTLY in the spot of the man with the black hair who won the roulette game earlier. I ran out of the casino, and felt major deja vu. I started running and running, running till my legs felt numb and my mind went blank. I kept looking back, and he was never there. I took a deep breathe.. thinking to myself.. what was going on? I looked back, and there he was standing behind me. I fell over, and something about this situation seemed all too familiar. He had the same stance as before, he was holding the same items in his hand as before... and when his weapon came towards me.. I woke up once again.

"Ma'am... are you okay?" the bartender lady said with judgmental eyes.. and that's when I realized. I was in my own personal hell.