The Pyschoweirdo’s voice (Part 2)

Who said I’m gonna fall for that crap? Seriously??? Ha ha. You don’t even have the faintest idea about who I truly am. I’m a one hell good of a liar so I’m not one who capitulates to that kind of bullsh*t. There are two voices inside me, however, that keeps on battling with each other. The devilish one said I must believe him, the angelic one though is obviously contradicting it—this angel’s voice urges me to do what I think was right, and not what everybody else think IS right. She’s been overruling me and I loved it that way. Ash will always be Ash. And not even a single mistake of sleeping with a good guy could turn this around.

Whilst listening to the hilarious debates of the two voices in my head, I stood up and waved for a taxi and asked the driver to bring me to Revel Bar, a different bar this time, so I can fulfill the needs of my skin and the tingling feels in my bones, I need to find a bad victim tonight. Otherwise, it’ll be boring.

I picked up my compact powder and put a little of retouch to my face to unleash yet again the lost glow because of the devil that suddenly spoke and argued with the angel I’ve been listening to for more than two decades. That Robbie guy provoked the devil to make me believe that someone could possibly like me on a deeper level. But what if the devil is right? Ugh nooo. Scratch that sh*t. I am bound to stand out, to be who I want to be, just as what the angel inside me has been telling me. That angelic voice has moulded the Ash that I am perfectly well. She has always pushed me to be different, to be bold enough to follow what I want because no one else can tell me what to do, because she said no one cares for me, no one could ever love me, and she’s just right about it.

I made a grand entrance in the bar as usual and everybody seemed to shower me with their seducing eyes speaking of lust and hunger, for the body I’ve been taking care of. You see, I like the attention, to be the center of it, to be the life of the scene, to see them poor eyes longing to touch me and to witness them fight for a single night with me. Because only one man could taste me tonight, one bad guy I’ve been thirsty of since three hours ago.

I saw a group of three guys at the center of the room, by the playbar, heedless of my presence. The ones who initially ignore my strong aura somehow turns me on, like the thought of a hunter finding it so hard to seek for the bear who’s hiding in the woods, it truly excites me.

The guy in the middle with dark colored almost curly hair wearing a plain white shirt and brown trousers, is the bomb. He has thick eyebrows that has complemented his brown or perhaps black eyes and his weird but naturally curled up lashes that looks so hot. He looks kinda Asian with that beautifully tanned complexion. He had no choice but to notice me as I distract them by making my way to the play bar, breaking the group by half, cutting off their non-sense conversations like an arrogant bitch, but the act made them giggle like hungry beasts after all. My skin slightly touched his by the elbow as I order a Martini, as his eyes looking straight to me, and now I’m a few inches away from a fantastic night. I had to secretly find out if he wears a wedding ring so my peripheral vision tried to help me but i see nothing. He smelled of a bad guy anyway so maybe it’s worth a try.

(Note: None of this story is true, this is just a pure product of my imagination, trying to improve myself in my pursuit of writing a novel.)