April

I was 28 years old and was a multi-million dollar fashion model.  I had slept with thousands of men and had more friends on facebook than I could count.  I had over 3 million followers on twitter and even more followed my instagram.  I am beautiful in every way.  I have curly blonde hair, but I straighten it most of the time.  I do whatever my designer, Klause, wants me to do.  I have so much money that I have seperate bank accounts.  I do not donate to charity because I grew up as an orphan and never saw a dime from those bastard celebrities. 
"April, you HAVE to try this on.  I know its a little bit extreme, but come on! We're on in five minutes!"
I refused.  The dress made me look like a skank, and thats saying something for me.  I was texting some of my friends, nonsense whimsical friends who only cared about my money.  I can sometimes be mean to them but they come back.  This dress was an avocado green-line ugly piece of cloth that showed off most of my figure.
"No."  I replied.  I was in a bad mood because Brittany had decided to go to brunch this morning without me.  I guess she's not getting anything from me.  At least until next week, where I go onto another coke binge and throw up everything, and end up calling that stupid girl crying.  She was usually there for me but liked to play the escape card more often than not.
After thinking about that for a few minutes I said the hell with it and put the dress on.  Five minutes of trotting down a runway couldn't be that bad.
I stepped out.  The lights were always too bright and unnatural.  It made me seem like some kind of doll, an emotionless figure that said and heard nothing.  I did my usual prance, did a 180 and turned around.  That night I was infuriated.
The headlines had called Klause a sexist and that he cared no more about the rights of women! Bah! The paparazzi pigs!  I gave them some glamour shots anyway, what more could a thousand dollars do to me anyhow.
I did my usual partying at the highest class clubs.  I am almost a goddess, and I can get in anywhere.  Any man dumb enough to believe that I love him will pay for my drinks.  Not like I need to.  I already told you I have everything I want.
But I don't.  Isn't there a guy who wants me for anything besides my money and body?  Where?  Klause is gay and the only other men I meet are douchebag bodybuilders and players.  I had so many boyfriends in high school I cant even count.  They were all the same.  I hate my life.

 I woke up in a drunken stupor, next to who knows who.  I threw a hot iron on his chest and he cried.  He ran out and called me any and every profanity possible.  I drank some more liquor and looked at my phone.  8000 notifications and the like.  I got my other phone out.  My business phone.
Klause and Brittany were my only contacts.  I had to be at work at 3.  I  hated waking up this early. 
Around 230 I finished my make-up and walked outside.  I had the most amazing yoga pants and a plain tanktop.  I went to my civvie car, a Cadillac, and hopped in.  The drive to work still amazes me.  The skyscrapers are godlike.  I can see myself perched upon them, controlling everything and everyone.  They will bow down to me one day.  I am the most beautiful girl in New York, but you know this.

Klause was high again, his nose powdery.  He had some new dark blue slacks and blouse project he was working on, so I called Brittany.  She wanted to go to brunch and I obliged.  We went to a nice deli and I had a turkey and swiss with whole wheat bread.  Being this gorgeous takes some self discipline.

We talked about everything and nothing, we were the epitome of boredom.  Our lives were void of meaning and we knew it.  Money was the only thing anyone wanted out of me, and I wanted everything else out of humanity.
When we finished I kissed her goodbye and hailed a taxi.  One pulled up for me.
The driver had five o clock shadow and long, black hair.  He wasnt perfect but the way he absolutely didnt notice me pissed me off.  I bent forward, showing some of myself, and told him to take me to work.  He completely ignored me! That bastard!  But I couldnt stop trying.  I talked to him the entire way and he just nodded.  He seemed interested in nothing.  Finally I gave up.  I pouted.
He looked back, and stopped.
"You know, when you're not talking about yourself, you're actually pretty attractive."
The smug bastard! He was the selfish one!  But something in my chest began to beat out of control! My head felt woozy and I lost myself.  I stared at him, and he stared at me.  He pulled the car over and we made love, right in the middle of an alleyway.
His name was Roger, and his long hair was sweaty and messy.
When I got back to work, Klause could tell something had happened.  I will admit I was happier than usual.  He did his cute little giggle and patted my back. 
That night I felt confident.  I felt like a god! The crowd loved me, and even though I was business casual they wanted me, I could feel the energy from them.  I went to bed that night not in a drunken rage, but in a silly flirtatious mood with everything on my mind.
The next day I woke up at noon, and decided to go to Mcdonald's for breakfast.  Why not?  I deserved a treat.  I got a chicken biscuit, and some coffee: black.
I was staring at the children playing when the door opened.  It was him! But...there was someone else.  Some dirty skank with him! That filthy, mongering SLOB!  Some low-cut trash in a skirt shorter than an episode of Aqua Teen Hunger force and a damn tubetop! What trash! I walked over to the bastard and threw my coffee in his face! His expression was priceless, and I scratched that bitch across the face.  She would live with those scars, emotional and physical forever!
That night I partied like an animal, sleeping with God who knows how many men and women and doing more coke than Charlie Sheen! It was amazing, and I woke up at 2, mean as a mountain lion.
I strutted into work, Klause once again high.  He had to measure me because he lost his notebook once again, and we began working on some new designs.  I was really into some of his new sketches, a long, flowing dress with tails coming down in a dark purple.  He went into working and I helped him.
Brittany texted me again today and we decided to go out to a nice steak joint.  It was amazing, and after I threw up and brushed my teeth I waited for a taxi again.
That bastard pulled up, and gave me that smirk.  I got in, handed him the money and we drove on.
Seconds turned into hours, and it was dead silent.  We pulled over again and made love.

I came into work again in a cheery mood, but after a few hours I couldn't take Klause's neuroticism anymore.  I walked outside for a smoke break, and I saw him out there walking down the street.  If I couldn't have the man no one could.  He was walking with that trash, her poor face bandaged and sadly covered up in some cheap Avon.  I pulled out my gun, always in case of those slimy mongruels that lurked at night, and made my way across the street.  I aimed down my sights, and squeezed that trigger...



And woke up in a hospital.  I had been hit by a bus, and the gun had fallen somewhere.  Roger and that trash were in there waiting on me.  Klause was passed out, and looked like he had been crying for days.  I stared at Roger.
"What happened?" I asked him.
"Well, after your stupid stunt trying to kill us in the middle of Times Square, you were hit by a bus, your rotten apple.  And guess what, your legs don't work anymore.  You're not going to be strutting that ass anymore, begging for attention.  I wanted to see you wake up, you miserable hag.  I hope you can forgive yourself."
I reached up to claw his eyes out, but fell out of the bed like a baby.  He was right.  I couldnt move them.  I couldnt even try.

I woke up again in that damned bed.  Klause was sleeping, notes scattered about the floor.  I crawled to the window and looked out.  Fifty stories up.  I opened the window.  It was cold, probably 3 or 4 in the morning.  I took one last look at Klause, and dropped out.  The last thing I can remember seeing was something bright yellow, moving fast....