0.5

[ R O C K Y ]

I hated vodka, but at this moment, it was my best friend as I downed my third shot paid for humbly by the sleazeballs at table seven, but it didn't go unappreciated. Everywhere I looked I saw him, I was still in the black dress I wore to my grandfather's funeral only three hours before, my mascara and eyeliner were probably running down my face, but I didn't have enough courage to take out my phone see what I looked like.

My finger swirled around the edge of the finished shot glass as a tear cascaded down my cheek. My grandpa raised me from when I was five when he found out my mom was a druggie and a prostitute, and my dad was her enabler and pimp. He quickly took custody of me for obvious reasons. And now, at twenty-three years old, my rock was gone, and I had just about no one in this world.

"Hey, pretty thing" A man with a small southern draw and a ratty beard stood next to me, he smirked at me exposing his silver front tooth. He looked at the bartender, "Another shot for the lady."

"I'm not in the mood. I'll take the shot though" The bartender slid the vodka towards me and I immediately let the miracle liquid slide down my throat, and with every shot, I forgot a little more.

"I was only coming over to invite somewhere-" He cut himself off by sliding me a small sheet of paper that looked like it had been ripped off out of a composition notebook. "Come here tonight for a good time."

"What is it? The address to your whore house?"

"If you swing that way, you could get a whore there." My eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he called the bartender over again, ordering a beer.

"What is this place, there is no way in hell I'm going if you don't tell me." He sighed, taking the address back out of my hands.

"You're right, you prolly' couldn't handle it" He began walking away.

"Wait!" He slowly turned back around; a satisfied smirked played across his face.

He had me: hook, line, and sinker.

"Be there by ten, tell the bouncer you're there for the wizard. And for the love of God, get out of the funeral get up." He handed me back the paper before turning on his heel.

It wasn't until he left the bar completely did a realize I'd been played, I sighed, looking down at the address. West Street, that was on the bad side of town. That's where little twenty-three-year-old girls get lured to get raped and murdered.

But was I a sucker for adventure? Hell yes. And was I going to go? Again. Hell yes.

I smirked before stuffing the address into my clutch and headed towards the parking lot to my car. I might die tonight, but at this point, was there really a point in living?