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Post by Aiden Walker on May 25, 2008 23:17:01 GMT -5
  N HAZARD Nyour treading on thin ice, babeAll this hate built up inside... Ouch. That last fight had hurt. It was a medium sized guy, about six feet tall, against Aiden. The stake was five hundred bucks. The other guy was overly arrogant, and decided to put that much in the pot. But, he lost, and Aiden took the five hundred bucks, and a bunch of praise from the crowd that had surrounded them. His souvenirs? His scars. Aiden's lip was busted open and bleeding, his nose was also bleeding, and he had a black eye forming. Not to mention how sore he was going to be tomorrow from the places where the guy had punched and kicked. His side cramped like a rib was broken, but if one was, Aiden probably wouldn't realize. Simply because his nerve endings are deeper in his skin than most people, this allows him to take one hell of a beating.
Where was Aiden now? Walking down the beach, holding a beer. The metallic taste of blood mingling with the bitter taste of beer. The blood dripped out of his nose, and over his lips. He reached a hand up and gently wiped the blood away. He had learned to be gentle with himself after a fight because until the next day, he wouldn't know if he was truly injured or not. When he was nineteen, he did four fights in one day, with only five minute breaks between them. There wasn't much time for injury or error. The next day he found out he had cracked three ribs. It was a messy business, fighting for money. But it was something that Aiden could never let go of. It's one of the hazardous things in his life that hold him together. He was addicted to the adrenaline rush that only a fight can cause. Animal instincts kick in, and take over, the crowd shouting comments and roaring for their favorite. Fighting was how he vented his rage. If his rage couldn't vent, he'd take it out on the innocent.
Nothing could pick Aiden out of a crowd right now. Of course he got looks for the blood on his face and a blackening eye, but other than that, he was just another body walking down the beach. He was in faded dark blue jeans that were torn and frayed slightly in places, a black tee shirt, his black leather jacket, and black motorcycle boots on his feet. Every once in a while, he grab the end of his shirt, pull it up so you could see his stomach, and wipe the blood from his face with it. In his right hand? A beer, go figure. He'd take sips from the glass bottle now and again as he walked. Beer, another thing that held him together. It dulled the pain, inside and out, and that's just what he wanted. Anyone that had to go through the kind of pain he endured daily would need something to at least dull it. People waver, people faint under pressure... Aiden didn't, he couldn't. He had to be strong, if not for himself, for the people around him. Someone has to be strong, don't they? It's what Aiden believed.
So here we are, watching our boy just move down the beach nonchalantly, making glances at girls in skimpy bikini's. His shoulders moved back and forth as he walked, revealing his relaxed state. It was sun set, most people had cleared out and only couples were left to watch the sun sink below the horizon like it did every day at this time. Aiden let a soft sigh slip through his bleeding lips as he pressed the neck of the bottle to them once again. The amber liquid found it's way down his throat and into his stomach, where from there it would process into the blood stream, making him intoxicated. He still had a few more beers to go before he would feel the effects, seeing as his tolerance level for alcohol was very high. And the best part, in Aiden's view point, was he had to wait ten times longer to feel the pain of a hang over, then it took to get him suitably drunk. Aiden sure had a funny way of thinking, or so other people convinced him of.
Aiden's steps begin to slow, body turning to face the setting sun, legs no longer moving, but standing still. He then leaned back a bit, and flopped back into the sand. He was sitting up, leaning foreword over his bent knees. One knee was slightly bent, almost strait, while his other was bent slightly more, both feet flat on the sand. His back curved gently as he slumped slightly. He let one arm rest on one of his legs, while the other held the beer bottle. There he sat, deliberately spacing himself far away from others. Hazel eyes watched as the golden sun sank below the horizon, the sky bleed red behind it. What was that old saying? Red sky in the morning, sailors warning, but red sky at night, sailors delight? Yeah, that was it. So, Orange County was going to have good weather tomorrow. Or that's what Aiden believed. He'd get a good laugh if it was raining tomorrow. He licked his lips and tipped the last of the amber liquid into his mouth. It's a wonder how I'm still alive... Thread Status; OPEN |
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Post by Bridget Harper on May 26, 2008 22:58:02 GMT -5
 
say goodbye to the setting sun
See what i found,
Turn back to the ground
'Things here haven't changed much' Bee thought to herself as she trudged along to the soft warm sand dragging her achy bare feet lazily. She had been away from the oh so wonderfully Orange county for four longs years now, making her way around Europe taking a break from her dramatic life here. Some might think that being shipped off to boarding school could have changed her. Maybe even a year at university but had they known Bridget Harper the thought would never have came to mind. Not ever.
Bee was the kind of person that was too stubborn to change for anything. It was pointless for her parents to try and woo her into being a good little girl even when she was a little girl. It was certain now that they had long given up on straightening her. She was twenty two years old and what you might call a free spirit, if you were being polite. If you weren't you might call her a lost cause. With the drugs and the alcohol and the extreme partying. Some had even called her a train wreck but she could have cared less what people said about her. She may have loved attention but she didn''t care why she was getting it. Whether people though it was a good reason or bad. To Bee any attention was fine.
She was just coming back from a ugly fight she had gone to watch. One of the guys had been an old friend of hers. Well, more than an old friend, he had been an old boyfriend of Bee's when she lived here. He had invited her to come and see him kick some guys ass. Bee hadn't really wanted to but well, she had nothing else to do so she figured why not. When she went she was hardly impressed, the show off ex boyfriend was way too c ocky for his own good and he in fact got his ass kicked, not the other way around. She had left before he could come to her and make up excuses about why he had lost. She didn't have the time for that jerk any more.
Okay, so maybe she had grown up a little. She wasn't quite as bothered about guys as she had been when she was in highschool, and she had matured a little but she was still the rebellious bitch she always had been.
She let out a small sigh and let her coffee brown eyes glance across the water at the setting sun. She wasn't really one for views but it was some what pretty, even in her eyes. It was as she turned her eyes back towards the direction she was walking that she saw a guy who she had already seen today. She didn;t know him but she had seen him, he was the guy that won the fight with that ex of hers.
She pondered for a moment wondering whether she should say something or not. Of course she didn't think for long and quickly decided that she would. Once she was close enough she opened her not-so-glossed lips to speak "Hey, good fight" she complimented him with a weak smile. With that she invited herself to sit down next to him. Sure she had never met the guy but well, it was a public beach she was very well aloud to sit where she liked. And if that happened to be next to him then so be it.
She dropped her white flip flops to the ground before she let her body join them planting her denim short clad butt onto the sand. She flicked a little sand off her white shirt making the black beads and silver chains around her neck bounce up and down a few times before they rested still again. "I'm Bridget" she offered briefly deciding she should give her name since she had just adopted a seat next to the random guy. "Or Bee" she added correcting her self. She much preferred Bee to her full name.
She pulled her black purse from over her shoulder and set it next to herself before she stated to rummage through it for a little while before she pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She slipped one into her mouth before she offered the pack to him "Want one?" she asked him mumbling slightly because of the roll of cancer she had pursed between her lips. Her mother had always called cigarettes Cancer sticks, she was never a fan of Bee smoking but Bee's mother wasn't much of a fan of anything Bee did. Partly because she had a set image of Bee that she had in her mind and partly because Bee just did her best to do anything that would piss her mother off.
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Post by Aiden Walker on Jun 7, 2008 23:25:52 GMT -5
N HAZARD Nyour treading on thin ice, babe You regret you made me...
Aiden wiggled the now empty bottle of beer in his hands. He tossed it from one hand to the other, sighing. He wanted another. Of course he did, he was an alcoholic... Just like his old man... At that thought rage filled him and he threw the bottle hard with a growl. The brown glass bottle ejected far out over the water before finally piercing the blue waves and dissapearing underneath. He kicked the sand, causing it to shoot up and his boot clad foot to sink into it. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. After a few more breaths, he achieved his goal. The two beers previous aided him by relaxing his tight muscles and making him a bit tipsy and unbalanced.
Both of his fathers were alcoholics. Well.. By that I mean his real father, who gave him up, was a drunk, and the father that adopted him was a drunk. Now, the third guy that adopted him wasn't so bad, he didn't drink. Hell, the guy was something like a saint. Also, his first mother, which was really his aunt, drank as well.... Damn this boy has a fucked up family. He ran over it all in his head... His real mother died when he was born, his real father put him up for adoption, he was adopted by his aunt and uncle, which he didn't know that at the time... Then, the police took him away from them when he was sixteen, and gave him to a rich couple who sent him to all kinds of therapy...
rwr. more later. i gtg to bed.
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