It all started the way most of my Saturday's tend to start. "I need two people, how much does that cost? Are eleven of us too many for two of yours?" Some random female voice said on the other line. "No, that's actually about fine, we charge one-hundred and fifty dollars, not including the optional tip, or destruction of property."
Back during freshmen year, I established a role of getting guys, girls, and everything in-between, and outside of, safely home with a general rundown of what I saw, a bottle of water, and some ibuprofen. I actually started carrying a bottle on me at all time, and dude the amount of money I made selling headache medication back there was amazing. Although one person called the cops and I had to explain that I sell Iboprufen to hungover students because I'm not giving my pills away for free, and I have them because I get constant migraines all the time for no reason any doctor can find which is frightening, to be honest, but that's not the subject we're talking about.
Regardless, it all started with a simple sentence the night after my graduation. "You should do this for a living." I thought about it, and BAM, here we are, normal people to make sure you get home safe, sound, and alive the next morning. You'd be surprised at the number of people that are totally fine with being paid to walk, or drive drunk people home, though probably less surprised with the number of people that enjoy our services. One of them even made us a website in repayment because they didn't have the actual money to pay. But that's just the short-story.
So obviously, I was down to make money, I always am, got it from my mother. I actually decided to make a whole business thing out of it, a girl or guy will call you on your designated work days, you'll dress up like friends, be given a paper with identities, and addresses, and make sure they all get safely home.
It originally started because I saw a girl get drugged, taken upstairs at a frat party by some guy, kicked his ass, called the cops, and took the girl back to my place to sleep it off while I edited my term paper.
The girl actually needed more help in the morning which I wasn't surprised about, my mom had gotten drugged once or twice at work back when she was alive so I knew what to do. She thanked me after I gave her the "Safe Drink Rules of Safety" talk, some breakfast, and my number just in case. She then gave me the brilliant idea that funded my college experience, and quite a few others, recommended my invite to every party she heard of, and slowly I started a business that became so lucrative, yet busy that I needed more people, tonight is my last night working in this business though, is a pretty bodyguard was fun and all, but I wanna go live somewhere a little quieter than this so I've handed the reigns over to the best person for the job. Luke, he's everyone's favorite mom friend, he's strong, knows how to fight (A sad necessity in this business), he's smart, majors in criminal psychology, and he's pretty so he can easily hang out with anyone. Not to mention he's actually a great guy.
As a small, final celebration of my genius, I decided to dress to all the nines, obviously. And since there was such a big group I needed two friends to watch over them with me, we made sure everyone was safe, I got in some people watching, and then we all went home, everyone had had a pretty damn good night all in all.
I was just about finished packing my place up as I was set to move back to my father's hometown to my father's old house tomorrow. My neighbor had the keys to my apartment and fifty dollars to make sure the guys were let in for the furniture.
It happened just as I finished cleaning out my emergency safe, putting everything in my backpack, and a little in my messenger bag. Life was great, I would've said.
Until I decided to accidentally knock my backpack out of a window, obviously I went running to get it, not even thinking to change, why would I? I'm already dressed, I've even got on shoes, and a jacket. I decided against taking my keys off of the outside of my bag because I can just carry it and put it in the car while I'm down here anyway.
Still I'm pretty lucky nobody grabbed my bag, however, I must've made some kind of enemy because next thing I knew I was waking up in the snow. In a forest. At daytime.
... Sitting up the first thing I said was "I live in New York. There are no actual forests, let alone snow in the summer... What the fuck is going on?"
Fifteen minutes later.
"I mean who the fuck kidnaps somebody, throws them in the snow, leaves money with them, and doesn't take, nor leave a single trace of themselves???" I said to myself, I had heard that talking can increase body temperature so I, obviously refused to shut up. "I can't believe I didn't change, I can't believe it is winter and I have to wear fucking club clothes through the goddamn snow! Club clothes! I mean yeah this maroon colored pleated skirt is really fucking pretty, and the gold zipper is amazing, but it's flowy and I'm cold. And yes this beautiful plum velvet jacket is worth dying for, I can admit that but I'm also wearing a fishnet mesh crop top, and a red bra underneath so my tits are fucking freezing! I'm so glad I keep a pair of vans in my bag, because as cute as those mesh heels are, they are just way too cold." Waving my hands around like crazy during my rant, 'Because movement helps too. Or at least I really fucking hope it does cause I can't feel my fucking nose for Christ's sake.' at this point I had latched on to anything to talk about, and had regressed to describing everything in vivid detail, "Like really though, who the fuck designed this planet, why is it so goddamned cold, is this the global warming thing? I bet it is."
Twenty minutes later
"It smells like smoke, and I can't feel my toes. Where oh where is the sweet, sweet release of death when you need it?" Quickly deciding to walk towards the smell because it might be a campsite, I decided to continue on my rant on the Civil War movie conclusion. "It makes no fucking sense, I mean do they even know Steve? Even then, do they even know Tony? Even then, does anyone know anybody at all? They're the fucking authors, how do you create such an uncharacteristic-"
Ten minutes later
"Why is there a house on fir
e" 'Only I can trip the second I find possible civilization.' With a mouth full of dirt, snow, and ash I stand up and look at the house before me, listening closely for any sign of life, and contemplating looking for a phone after I wipe out my mouth. "It's not that big a fire yet... fuck it. If I die it'll be on my own terms." and with that, I walked into a burning building.
I don't like being cold... I never said I was good at looking after myself... How have I survived so long?
"Phone! Oh, how I've needed you!" I quickly wet my bandana while I dial 911, 'Even if no one's home we're surrounded by forest, and I'd rather not lose another forest.' and sit on the ground "911 what's your emergency?" "I'm in some house in the woods, and I don't know where I am, and the house is on fire. Can you find me?" The woman on the other line gasps after a second, "The Hales! Of course, we're sending out a truck right now-" I cut her off when I notice someone shouting, "Great, um I can hear someone screaming for help so I'm gonna go look for them, and leave you here because I can't carry the phone with me due to the cord thingy, but I'll try to come back!" despite protests that I can hear so clearly it's mildly overwhelming coming from the phone I feel the urge to hang up 'Loud noises bro, they suck.' I set it down and stand back up, re-wetting the bandana I kept in one of my bags 'I am still so glad I left them outside oh my gods.' Deciding not to hang up instead. Luckily.
I walk towards the shouting unable to figure out what's actually being said, by who, but, luckily, able to find where. 'I have a headache.' There's a man with pretty blue eyes trying to lift a wooden bar thing from in front of a door, and so much pounding my head hurts coming from the other side, the stairs right outside the kitchen easy to find even in the smoke.
Obviously, I go to help him, since despite the muscles pretty blue eyes can't lift for shit. "You're supposed to use your legs," I say as I, with surprising ease lift the wooden bar, and promptly fall on my ass. Fun times. "I swear to god if I get a fucking splinter in my ass I will have words with fire itself... Somehow." 'I feel really fucking sick, how many kids do y'all have, there's like twenty people.' The family that was apparently trapped inside came running out at astonishing speeds 'I think...', children first, and I'm left to patiently wait them out with Pretty Blue Eyes. That and I'm feeling woozy so moving is a no-go. "Woozy. What a funny word. Hey Blue Eyes?" He looks at me in, some emotion I'm sure "Yeah you, you've got pretty eyes, and I feel woozy so no-go on the moving pronto thing mkay? Mkay." He seems astonished as he makes sure everybody gets out, or maybe offended, I don't know, "Perhaps Mkay will be our always." I say to myself as I start laughing just as everyone is finally upstairs.
After a moment before his eyes seem to tame I suppose, into another just as lovely, yet calmer blue color. Once the last person comes out he picks me up and carries me out. "So I'm a princess obviously, but does that make you the prince or the dragon?" I say, with only a little bit of coughing into my hand, because, and I'm not sure when I did it, I'm holding my bandana over his mouth and nose. The wetness in my hand is blue, which is weird cause like, what the fuck.
When we get outside there are some really loud sirens coming our way, and I'm being set on an ambulance step thing and Pretty Blue Eyes is leaving and I don't know what he is! "You never answered my question! Ouch, my throat hurts." The paramedic tells me to stop talking it'll help. I pout at her, then look up to notice Pretty Blue Eyes make eye contact, raise a brow and say "Either." He goes to his family at the call of "Peter" From... somewhere.
Just before I decide sleep is my best friend I haven't seen in a week (Or, Reenactment of finals week sophomore year, post-
warfinal finals.) I tell the paramedic(?) "He's really pretty isn't he."