. . . I am running out of options, and hiding can work for so long. I am being chased yet again by the same old man, and the police. “Please! Don’t run! Allow us to help!” he shouts, meanwhile the police chasing me says, “ceace, pervert!” I am not a pervert, I am just indecent due to my circumstances. I won’t let anyone ‘help’ me, not after the shit I have seen and experienced.

I am going to be honest I still think about that shit. I mean, who doesn’t remember a traumatic experience every single night that deemed you socially awkward, mute and can’t visit places similar to the place the experience took place? I sure as hell still do, and I will make sure that will never happen again. Because of that, I also stop eating altogether, unless I know where the food came from. And under any circumstance, I will never swallow any sort of pill, ever.

Because of my life choices, I have to live like a bum by the shore. It is fucking cold, and I am salty from bathing in the beach to feel clean. I will probably die from salt water poisoning. Here is the thing, you ever wondered why you get so hungry and thirsty when you go bathe at the beach? Mother fucker, you are bathing in salt water, salt dehydrates you and your body breaks down. I bet if you put a body in a body of salt water it will deteriorate.

My hair is a fucking mess, too. It is dry, wavy and I am shedding more than I normally do. I can safely say, salt water is worse than the aerosol women put in their hairs to solidify their tresses it into helmets.

I am also growing a fucking beard, it fucking itches like a caked asshole, the more I scratch the more it itches.

I can relate to that Jesus guy in the bible story. I am the messiah; I came, I saw and got nailed on a cross--... too soon?

Okay, since you are so offended by it, let me rephrase: you know that saying, ‘when you hit rock bottom, there is no other way to go but up?’ In my case, I just go in the meta bottom. My ass is so fucking massive I break through the bottom and just keep going till I reach rock bottom of another dimension where it is opposite day.

Shit.

I am so distracted I forgot I am being chased.

I did lose them somewhat but I hid inside the first dumpster I could, and hid in the very fucking bottom. My life fucking sucks. Truly, no one is worse than me at the moment.

I hear footsteps and the lid of the dump screeched open. I pray someone is just tossing the garbage…

What every they disposed of, it was fucking heavy.

I shouldn’t stay for long anyway. I have seen what garbage trucks do to people and it is not pretty. I climb my way out-- Ooo... I found something pleasing to my eyes: blue fur-- holy shit! This is everything!

I choked a gasped as I pulled the coat along with the owner. I got a mini heart attack, I thought the coat was stained with blood or dirt. It is in perfect condition. I look down at the body, and judging by the bruises on her neck, she was strangled. It is a terrible shame, she also wore a cocktail sequin dress and silver T strap sandals. I also see a very expensive, swarovski clutch bag tucked inside her coat. Honestly, I can’t believe people just throw away brand named clothes. I would never do such a thing, I will say one thing though, I will die in my favorite coat if I knew it was the end. But that’s just me I guess.

I pick up the clutch bag and search through it. I find a card with her basic information; Her name was Laura Lee Giblets, and she lived in Palms Beach Gardens. What was she doing all the way in Jupiter? Wait… Some sort of key fell out of the pockets. I pick it up and see the engraved letters, it reads: “penthouse” on the front, and on the back it reads: “Palm Beach Hotel & Spa”. This hotel is very popular according to my magazines and the spa treatments are fit enough for god's on Earth. I am one of those.

As much as I would love to wear this lovely coat, I cannot be seen with it. I am already a pervert and that won’t stop the police from putting me in jail.

Listen here, I won’t play detective again. That fucking sucks.

I took her key because I am sure I can sneak in. Fuck yes I will sneak in her room; my dick is fucking itching, I need a fucking shower! Now where the fuck is this fucking hotel?

I raise my head and there was a plaque on the dumpster, “property of Palm Beach Hotel & Spa." I look up at the building and walked around it finding the sign of the hotel.

Oh.

It is opposite day.

Wait... just how fucking far did I run?

Anyway.

I walk in, ask the clerk if my wife passed by, and he says “yeah she went out.” I talk with him a bit on how she ditched me in the party and we needed to talk about it. He agreed with me and had a laugh at how he slaps his wife for being incompetent, too. I walk up the stairs the hotel and go into the room where my glorious shower awaits.

If only it were that easy, huh…?

This time for real. I walk in, and of course, in person the decor is far more bizarre than the pictures... Not my aesthetic, I guess.

My form doesn’t seem pleasing to the guests. They whisper harsh truths about my appearance and my scent, and how I was very dark and made them nervous.

I didn’t realize I was walking forward and I just bump into the desk of the clerk. He looks somewhat creeped out at my beggar appearance. He smiled at me nonetheless. “Welcome to Palm Beach Hotel & Spa, how can I help you?” Shit I have to talk to him for real now. I should have just walked to the stairs! Well, I never found them with this mess of warm tones and edgy furniture. I just realized how flawed my plan is: I am mute.

Shit.

“Are you lost?” The clerk asks. I didn’t respond. I want to walk away before he says it. “I can help you--” Nope, I bolt out of there. That word is bad news. I can already imagine how this will affect me, anyone can just say “help you” in any context and I will run away. Maybe I just associate it with the opposite.

I walk around the hotel and I found another entrance. I push in the easy access door and I regret it instantly. I never seen such a crowded space in such a small cube. It feels like the industrial part of the hotel, what no guest sees. I certainly do not want to see it, but it is so hectic I can find my way around to-- Crow almighty, am I really doing this for a shower? Hell yeah.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

I sneak through the massive mess of a kitchen quietly and patiently. I wait for my chance to move using my hearing as an asset. It was going well till a few of the staff members notice something in particular in the ambience: my putrid scent. “God! Is the shrimp spoiled!?” someone shouts. “Are you kidding!? That smells like clam chowder left for days!!!” someone else says. I can’t really smell my scent due to my freaky no scent ability. It is weird because I can taste things just fine… Hey now that I put thought into it, the clerk didn’t seem bothered by my scent. Well that aside, I need to continue and use the distraction to my advantage.

With brisk and graceful toes, I reach a hallway. This key I hold could--... Fuck me, did I fucking dropt it!? I pad my tattered clothes and my single pocket and I can’t feel it on me. I lost it somewhere in the few short steps I took from the trashcan, to the lobby, the alley, and then here.

Well, fuck.

Penthouses are on the top floor of the hotel, up the stairs I will go. I’m just going to break the lock, then. I won’t back down from this, I will take a shower, nothing is going to stop me; period.

I used my hearing again to keep track of what is around me. People were aware of my scent but they never saw me. I am causing horrible business to this five star hotel.

Just as I reached the fifth floor I see a mess of black tar and broken bodies. I don’t have scent receptors, but I can taste the scent and I gagged. I can safely say, I don’t smell half as bad as I thought I did. This stuff was at the hospital too, now that I think about it.

Now, with more reason I want to shower.

I keep walking down the hall avoiding the nasty goop pooling in the halls and reach the door of the penthouse. The door is obviously locked and there is no way I will bullshit my way in with needles. So, I kick it down with my fat leg and explore in search of my bathroom. Not without getting distracted by the walk in closet…

OH, SWEET MERCIFUL JESUS NOT CHRIST... I am swiming in designer dreams!

I want to touch the fabric so bad but I can’t. My disgusting fingers will stain them. With more reason I should shower If I want to wear any of these lovely garments with no casualties.

I find the ‘end suite’ and undress quietly wondering how the shower works. This is a ritual. Every shower I take is a sacred ritual and must be treated as such; starting with prepping my hair.

I rub my fingertips against my scalp and slowly distribute the grease down to the wavy ends. I see a brush by the sink and quickly run it through my thick tresses untangling them before I set foot in the shower.

I stand there under the head and pull the faucet open. The sudden impact and heat hitting my skin startles me, however it is welcomed. I shut my eyes and throw my head back as I run my hands through my greasy hair.

I respect fire, I cherish the wind, I love earth, but I adore water. I feel at peace when I soak in a body of water. But I know I will enjoy it more if I have someone with me at all times. To sing proses, to dance with her, and most of all, to love her to the moon and back. I had a lover before all this? And if I did what was she like? Is she like me, could she tolerate a jackass like me?

I miss her dearly; from her purple hair, to her dainty pointy feet. I miss all of… I stop curling my hair as a name sat on the tip of my tongue waiting for me to spill it out but for the life of me I cannot remember who she is.

I continue to shave my beard and the rest of my body wondering what sort of woman I am missing. If I have or had a woman in my life I bet she was beautiful. I like aesthetically pleasing women, with great personality, and talented in several fields so she can fend for herself while being up to my standards making her my equal.

There is nothing I hate more than people going for ugly talentless significant others just to justify they have feelings. Everyone has them, including us beautiful people. We just don’t show our emotions to anyone, not even to our reflection. We rather shatter them because we know mirrors are envious and show us things we rather not see.

I take Laura Lee’s beautiful yellow fur coat over her husband’s expensive suit, along with two suitcases filled with essentials, and walk out the penthouse and leave the hotel as quickly as possible.

I stand out less since everyone is running and screaming away from an angel eating humans. One with two heads came close enough to invade my personal space. I don’t like that at all… I swing my suitcase knocking it down to the ground. I pin the angel with the heel of my shoe and crush the windpipe. These hunters are really strong but they are also pretty flimsy and easy to kill. You can’t just make a breed of super monsters without an emergency back up plan in case they go crazy like they normally do.

How did I know that…?

A few more are aware I exist, however, I won't sweat again. Not until I-- or rather Christopher Lloyd, pays for my motel. I run away from the hotel and chased down a taxi to drive me to the next city. What I wasn’t expecting is a red head angel imp gunning me down the street. The chaos was too much for my ears and it is making me anxious and agitated. I will soon lose consciousness because of my lack of sleep and stress level. . .

I woke up yet again in a chamber filled with cods and other bums loitering in the area. It wasn’t a hospital because no one spoke the jargon, nor the sounds anywhere similar to that place. I felt somewhat at peace and I lay back down on my four ply mattress and pray I don’t fall on the floor.

“Can you believe what is happening…?” a woman whispers to someone. They are on the other side of this massive chamber but that doesn’t make it harder to hear.

“Armageddon,” another woman says.

“I lost everything during this apocalypse,” the first woman commented. “I bet we will run out of food soon…” she adds.

“A situation like this happened when I was younger… surely the military will do something about these monsters roaming the state,” the second woman says.

“Whatever it is… It will surely kill us,” the first woman says.

“Hey did you see the new guys, coat?” a third woman asked.

“Is it real?” the second woman asked.

“We can always ask him, it’s not like he will bite.” I beg to differ on that. I will bite who ever I deem worthy of my pearly whites.

“I doubt it. But in any case we can just frisk him and find out,” the first woman says bitterly. My ears perk up at the frisk comment. Look, it’s not like I don’t enjoy being handled by a princess, but I rather not be touched unless I am aware of it. Don’t give me that shit, figment of my imagination.

Now that I focus my hearing, most of the people here are women of all ages. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but for now I will keep to myself. I curl up underneath my blanket and try to focus on hearing something else.

“What do you mean your husband sold your body!?” No, not that. “I recently discovered my father was a german officer…” Interesting, but I rather hear something else. “Francine brought a man into the shelter.” That's sexist, but I can understand why many battered and abused women are segregated into one shelter. “I lost my husband to this fiasco… now my child is slowly bleeding to death from her ripped off arm…” too grousm for me. “I saw him! The red headed man who will save us!” I doubt it. Geeze no one talks about things I am interested in.

The door opened. “I hope everyone is comfortable for now, but we just secured rations for the month.” The tone is so endearing, almost nostalgic. My eyes snap open and sat up straight. The most beautiful woman I ever seen stood across from me. She has stunning blue eyes and light brown hair reaching pass her waist. She notice my presence and beams contently. “Hello! My, name is Francine! You took a nasty beating for us and we were so grateful I brought you to the shelter,” Francine says-- wait a minute, she brought me here by herself?! I whip my head to her in shock, and eyed her from head to toe. Nothing; nothing her body told me she was capable of carrying me by herself, unless she had help.

My ass weighs a metric ton.

I study her like prey, if she had a trick up her sleeve I am sure to run away in time. However, nothing about her make me feel insecure, if anything I fell in love with her.

So, I lowered my guard and allowed her to approach me. She is so gentle dispite how calloused her hands are. I leaned in to her touch before my pussy bodyjerks away.

The old man from the other day walked in. “I can’t believe he looks so different. After a clean shave...” he comments as he sits down on the cod next to mine. I just stare at him, waiting.

“How can you tell it’s him?” Francine asks.

“That mark on his forehead…” The old man pointed at my birthmark. While it is true I have a true beauty and unique spot, I have to hide it from now on; It is my literal identifier.

They both tend to the wounds I apparently have. I don’t feel anything, just mild annoyance because I have to bathe again. At least my coat is free of harm, save for a few spots I can get rid of.