Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Tamed Madman ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Brisa 
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Self Insertion | Uploaded On: 07.29.2012 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.6K | Visits: 240 | Status: Work In Progress
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Self Insertion | Uploaded On: 07.29.2012 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.6K | Visits: 240 | Status: Work In Progress
Chapter One
I was a complete fool before university, but I was too much of an idiot to see it. I wondered why
I was always alone and it didn't cross my mind that I was doing it wrong. So, while clad in my cap and
gown, fresh from graduation, I composed a list. I revised it over and over until it was concise and
applicable to a new life. To be specific, I made seven rules of happy living in present society. I took a
sabbatical for a year to find myself and by the first day on campus, I was prepared in every aspect.
Rule number one: Black goes with everything
Rule number two: Have a full contact list at all times
Rule n umber three: When buying a cell phone plan, unlimited texting is a duh
Rule number four: Be yourself unless it becomes social ly unacceptable
Rule number five: Men are so not worth it
Rule number six: Don't let anyone know more about you than you know about them
Rule number seven: Books are a girl's best friend
****
Cypher closed its door with the usual drama and fanfare. As I cleaned the bar counter, an irate
costumer didn't want to leave. I paused my motions with the damp rag to observe the brawl in
neutrality. I had seen this man in particular a handful of times and his presence was not unexpected. He
was not a problem costumer, it was just after that. He was allowed to stay because his money was
gladly accepted for the hours he spent. However, his tall, round stature required to aid of several
bouncers to lead him out. His arms flailed under their grip and he shouted creative, drunken profanity.
Some of it was undecipherable nonsense, but it was still interesting.
The janitorial&n bsp;staff flickered the lights on with the last of the costumers stumbled out the door,
some more unstable than others. My fellow bartender working that evening informed me it was my turn
to finish out our station, although I knew it wasn't. I had taken care of it the last couple of times I had
worked with this person. I didn't call her out on her lie, smiled, and wished her a safe and good night. I
didn't mind. Erik would slip me some cash under the table for my trouble, which was a unique privilege
of mine. Taking incentive was a valued trait, in Erik's eyes, and I was rewarded.
I corked wine bottles and swept behind the counter. Once the bar was mostly empty, Erik came
to visit me. “Kayla, how was your shift,†he asked innocently?
“Erik! It's Onyx.†I sighed loudly. “Remember Onyx.†I hadn't freaked out as much as I did
when others were within earshot, but he never learned. He had known me with this persona for long
enough to get it correct by now. It had morphed into a mild irritation and sometimes I think he did it to
give me a dose of my past.
He seated himself on one of the stools and slumped over. “Yes Onyx,†he said, putting emphasis
on my name in a sarcastic manner. “I'm getting to old for this shit...â€
“Dude, you aren't that old. And you're a total night owl.†Erik was the owner and rose Cypher
into a respectable business. He was getting well into his 30's and Cypher was the place to be. It wasn't a
club and didn't appear to be so by any stretch of the imagination. It was packed with anyone from
college students of Calverton University up to middle aged costumers.
He rubbed his temples rhythmically and I assumed that he was mid-migraine. “I feel older.†He
peaked open an eyelid and looked at me. “You did a good job today. You young people have an energy
I lost.â€
“Okay, you seriously are starting to sound old.†I wouldn't tell it to him directly, but he had the
type of face that could be mistaken for a younger man.
“My years are catching up with me and places are aching that haven't before and I almost yelled
at a kid to, 'Get off my lawn, you hooligan!'†He huffed in annoyance and raked his fingers through his
neat hair. I didn't have to heart to tell him his slicked hair was losing its black pigment to gray and
white strands. He hadn't shown his age yet, but it was beginning. Being a man, though, prevented him
from becoming old, just distinct. “I'm bad-tempered tonight.â€
“You sound like you need a drink.†I had put everything away and in order, but I wouldn't mind
making him a quick one before I went home.
He nodded no and slipped his leather wallet from his pocket. He kept one-hundred in cash on
any given night in twenty dollar bills. “I'm fine, but thanks for the offer. I've had a steady flow tonight.
Here Onyx.†Erik placed a kind tip on the counter and lightly tousled my hair with a fatherly look in his
eyes.
“Thanks.†;I grasped the much needed money, went to the exit, and said, “I'll see you tomorrow.â€
He called after me and caught me right before the door shut. “Oh no you don't. You have
tomorrow off!â€
****
The next&n bsp;day was a rare occurrence and a much needed break. It was a day in which I was free
of classes and work and no obligations until the next day. I cherished it as a makeshift vacation for
myself.
I woke up around eleven when my roommate stumbled in from god knows where. She smelled
like cheap liquor and half of her buttons on her blouse were undone. I could tell the difference from
expensive and bottom shelf wine by scent. Her clumsy entrance roused me from sleep, but she wasn't
conscious long enough to reprimand. Checking my clock, I cursed the world for not letting me sleep
adequately and yet having it be so late.
I pealed off my work outfit and pulled on comfy, casual clothes. I crashed after arriving back at
the dorm from Cypher and didn't have a chance to undress. In the mirror, I could see my smeared
lipstick, runny eyeliner, and wrinkled clothing from the previous night.
My phone chimed, indicating I had a text. Cody: babe come to my place? I didn't feel up to
dealing with him or really anybody else. He had been getting a bit too much for me to handle as of late.
I wasn't sure how much longer I was going to have him around. I ignored the message and the others
over the course of the night and tossed my phone on the bed. To avoid temptation from getting caught
in the texting black hole, I turned it off.
I went down to the diner, where they brought out my order before I spoke my request. Yes, it
was that kind of dinky, hole-in-the-wall establishment. The food was disgustingly delicious and food
poisoning was not uncommon among patrons. Knowing the health risks didn't make the food any less
delectable, but I was cautious. There were two key aspects to keep in mind: milk was never safe,
cooked into a meal or otherwise, and bread was uncertain after Wednesdays. I maintained a respectable
distance from both, slipping greasy eggs down my throat with a side of over-buttered hash browns and
black coffee. I had been told the cream was fine, but I wasn't going to chance it. I listened to the dull
rumble around me from the regulars as I sipped my drink and ate my drink. The waitress chatted with
me, babbling dizzily about nothing in particular or nothing I could honestly comprehend. I nodded and
smiled when appropriate, which was the best option in that situation.
No one I knew came to this kinda place and I didn't intend to see an acquaintance for the
entirety of the day, so fashion took a temporary back seat. My hair was pressed and folded into a tight
bun against my head. Wearing a black tee-shirt and yoga pants, I was amazingly comfortable, but I
wouldn't be caught dead else in them. I wasn't as sociable in casual wear and Kayla might slip out, old
emotions sparking to life. I wasn't Kayla, I was Onyx and I was happier than she ever was.
I read the last pages of the book I had been whittling away at and frowned. I needed to purchase
another.
****
The quaint booksto re didn't seem like much on the outside. There was a proportional sign, hand-
written in cursive with a little illustration of a book. Bound & Profound, second hand books was an
older shop. It was a stand alone brick structure on the border of the city and the suburbs. It was two
stories high and ended in a flat top. The exterior was chipped, weathered, and without windows.
Stores with age often yielded the best selection of preowned books, but not always. Sometimes,
second hand stores had a hearty selection of newer texts lining the shelves. I couldn't stand for the
majority of things written in recent years. Nothing truly excited me. Authors just wrote the entire thing
in a hurried mess and was satisfied by pumping out large quantity of crap. Editors were happy to assist
in the dispersal of the crap. Readers were eager to read the heaping pile of crap and rave about its
incredible quality. Though, in the end, it was still just glorified crap.
I guess I couldn't so easily blame it on the era. In any bookstore, there were good books and not
so good books. The difference was diversity.
I turned the knob and I was nearly knocked over from its intensity by the scent of yellowed,
decaying pages. It took me back to my high school days to my room at my parents house, lined with
shelves. Distorted memories of being nose-deep in fantastical plot lines, times, and places raced in a
blur. I shut off my senses other than smell and inhaled deeply. My body was suddenly felt airy and my
chest was filled with warmth. It was a pleasant feeling. “Miss? Miss? Are you alright?†A girl's chipper
voice snapped me from my trance.
My cheeks reddened slightly in response to being caught intoxicated. I'm sure I appeared that I
had a mental illness, standing in the doorway, smelling the air like an idiot. “Sorry, I'm fine...†I noted
her name tag, “ Ann.â€
Worry gone, she smiled. “Good. Anyway, welcome. I'm Ann and it's your first time here, right?â€
I was about to respond, but she continued, unperturbed by attempt, “I don't recognize you, so it must be
because I know every single costumer who enters those doors and you do not ring a bell. No, not at all.
You are a total stranger. You were-I mean. You are not anymore. Unless you come in on days I don't
work, which are Mondays and Wednesdays always and alternating days during the week.†She was
running on a single breath and it was a relief to both of us when she took another. Even talking a
million miles a minute, she was gasping towards the end. I missed a couple words, but I was still able
to determine her message. I couldn't think as quick as she was forming scattered sentences. Too soon,
she began again, “The boss watches Bound & Profound on Mondays and Wednesdays 'cause he says
th at nobody bothers buying books on Mondays and Wednesdays. I don't know. I would buy books on
any day of the week. The other days Ultan and I switch off. He's my boyfriend and I love him so much
and I see him all the time, but we don't work at the same times. Boss doesn't need more than one person
looking after things, but wouldn't it be so romantic, working side by side with the love of your life?â€
The one-sided, mindless chatter wasn't going anywhere fast and while she broke her continuous
chain, I chimed in, “I'm going to look around, but thanks for the help.â€
I turned from her and submerged myself in piles and shelves. Every crooked shelf was jammed,
edge to edge, with books of all sizes. The ones that didn't fit on the shelves were stacked into towering
piles, some reaching shoulder height. The lack of windows deprived the space of natural light and
scattered lamps kept the shop from darkness. The lamps were different heigh ts, shapes, colors and were
found on every available inch. The docile lamplight was terr ibly bright, but it was enough to make out
the words on the spines. The paint on the ceiling was completely gone in chunks, but the walls were
beige and fresh.
Wondering, careful not no touch anything that looked remotely rickety or wobbly, I pulled
books off the shelves at random. The buttery pages fluttered over my finger tips as I skimmed. My next
choice was hardcover inconveniently located in the center of a billowing pile. I wanted that exact book,
in that exact spot, for no exact reason. I gently wriggled it from its spot while trying my best not to let
the rest topple.
I almost had it. Almost. I let my guard down at the last little bit was there... and then it rapidly
collapsed on top of me. I shielded myself from the falling debris, but the strangest thing occurred. I
didn't feel the pain of pointed book corners or anything. Just a shadow blocked me.
I was a complete fool before university, but I was too much of an idiot to see it. I wondered why
I was always alone and it didn't cross my mind that I was doing it wrong. So, while clad in my cap and
gown, fresh from graduation, I composed a list. I revised it over and over until it was concise and
applicable to a new life. To be specific, I made seven rules of happy living in present society. I took a
sabbatical for a year to find myself and by the first day on campus, I was prepared in every aspect.
Rule number one: Black goes with everything
Rule number two: Have a full contact list at all times
Rule n umber three: When buying a cell phone plan, unlimited texting is a duh
Rule number four: Be yourself unless it becomes social ly unacceptable
Rule number five: Men are so not worth it
Rule number six: Don't let anyone know more about you than you know about them
Rule number seven: Books are a girl's best friend
****
Cypher closed its door with the usual drama and fanfare. As I cleaned the bar counter, an irate
costumer didn't want to leave. I paused my motions with the damp rag to observe the brawl in
neutrality. I had seen this man in particular a handful of times and his presence was not unexpected. He
was not a problem costumer, it was just after that. He was allowed to stay because his money was
gladly accepted for the hours he spent. However, his tall, round stature required to aid of several
bouncers to lead him out. His arms flailed under their grip and he shouted creative, drunken profanity.
Some of it was undecipherable nonsense, but it was still interesting.
The janitorial&n bsp;staff flickered the lights on with the last of the costumers stumbled out the door,
some more unstable than others. My fellow bartender working that evening informed me it was my turn
to finish out our station, although I knew it wasn't. I had taken care of it the last couple of times I had
worked with this person. I didn't call her out on her lie, smiled, and wished her a safe and good night. I
didn't mind. Erik would slip me some cash under the table for my trouble, which was a unique privilege
of mine. Taking incentive was a valued trait, in Erik's eyes, and I was rewarded.
I corked wine bottles and swept behind the counter. Once the bar was mostly empty, Erik came
to visit me. “Kayla, how was your shift,†he asked innocently?
“Erik! It's Onyx.†I sighed loudly. “Remember Onyx.†I hadn't freaked out as much as I did
when others were within earshot, but he never learned. He had known me with this persona for long
enough to get it correct by now. It had morphed into a mild irritation and sometimes I think he did it to
give me a dose of my past.
He seated himself on one of the stools and slumped over. “Yes Onyx,†he said, putting emphasis
on my name in a sarcastic manner. “I'm getting to old for this shit...â€
“Dude, you aren't that old. And you're a total night owl.†Erik was the owner and rose Cypher
into a respectable business. He was getting well into his 30's and Cypher was the place to be. It wasn't a
club and didn't appear to be so by any stretch of the imagination. It was packed with anyone from
college students of Calverton University up to middle aged costumers.
He rubbed his temples rhythmically and I assumed that he was mid-migraine. “I feel older.†He
peaked open an eyelid and looked at me. “You did a good job today. You young people have an energy
I lost.â€
“Okay, you seriously are starting to sound old.†I wouldn't tell it to him directly, but he had the
type of face that could be mistaken for a younger man.
“My years are catching up with me and places are aching that haven't before and I almost yelled
at a kid to, 'Get off my lawn, you hooligan!'†He huffed in annoyance and raked his fingers through his
neat hair. I didn't have to heart to tell him his slicked hair was losing its black pigment to gray and
white strands. He hadn't shown his age yet, but it was beginning. Being a man, though, prevented him
from becoming old, just distinct. “I'm bad-tempered tonight.â€
“You sound like you need a drink.†I had put everything away and in order, but I wouldn't mind
making him a quick one before I went home.
He nodded no and slipped his leather wallet from his pocket. He kept one-hundred in cash on
any given night in twenty dollar bills. “I'm fine, but thanks for the offer. I've had a steady flow tonight.
Here Onyx.†Erik placed a kind tip on the counter and lightly tousled my hair with a fatherly look in his
eyes.
“Thanks.†;I grasped the much needed money, went to the exit, and said, “I'll see you tomorrow.â€
He called after me and caught me right before the door shut. “Oh no you don't. You have
tomorrow off!â€
****
The next&n bsp;day was a rare occurrence and a much needed break. It was a day in which I was free
of classes and work and no obligations until the next day. I cherished it as a makeshift vacation for
myself.
I woke up around eleven when my roommate stumbled in from god knows where. She smelled
like cheap liquor and half of her buttons on her blouse were undone. I could tell the difference from
expensive and bottom shelf wine by scent. Her clumsy entrance roused me from sleep, but she wasn't
conscious long enough to reprimand. Checking my clock, I cursed the world for not letting me sleep
adequately and yet having it be so late.
I pealed off my work outfit and pulled on comfy, casual clothes. I crashed after arriving back at
the dorm from Cypher and didn't have a chance to undress. In the mirror, I could see my smeared
lipstick, runny eyeliner, and wrinkled clothing from the previous night.
My phone chimed, indicating I had a text. Cody: babe come to my place? I didn't feel up to
dealing with him or really anybody else. He had been getting a bit too much for me to handle as of late.
I wasn't sure how much longer I was going to have him around. I ignored the message and the others
over the course of the night and tossed my phone on the bed. To avoid temptation from getting caught
in the texting black hole, I turned it off.
I went down to the diner, where they brought out my order before I spoke my request. Yes, it
was that kind of dinky, hole-in-the-wall establishment. The food was disgustingly delicious and food
poisoning was not uncommon among patrons. Knowing the health risks didn't make the food any less
delectable, but I was cautious. There were two key aspects to keep in mind: milk was never safe,
cooked into a meal or otherwise, and bread was uncertain after Wednesdays. I maintained a respectable
distance from both, slipping greasy eggs down my throat with a side of over-buttered hash browns and
black coffee. I had been told the cream was fine, but I wasn't going to chance it. I listened to the dull
rumble around me from the regulars as I sipped my drink and ate my drink. The waitress chatted with
me, babbling dizzily about nothing in particular or nothing I could honestly comprehend. I nodded and
smiled when appropriate, which was the best option in that situation.
No one I knew came to this kinda place and I didn't intend to see an acquaintance for the
entirety of the day, so fashion took a temporary back seat. My hair was pressed and folded into a tight
bun against my head. Wearing a black tee-shirt and yoga pants, I was amazingly comfortable, but I
wouldn't be caught dead else in them. I wasn't as sociable in casual wear and Kayla might slip out, old
emotions sparking to life. I wasn't Kayla, I was Onyx and I was happier than she ever was.
I read the last pages of the book I had been whittling away at and frowned. I needed to purchase
another.
****
The quaint booksto re didn't seem like much on the outside. There was a proportional sign, hand-
written in cursive with a little illustration of a book. Bound & Profound, second hand books was an
older shop. It was a stand alone brick structure on the border of the city and the suburbs. It was two
stories high and ended in a flat top. The exterior was chipped, weathered, and without windows.
Stores with age often yielded the best selection of preowned books, but not always. Sometimes,
second hand stores had a hearty selection of newer texts lining the shelves. I couldn't stand for the
majority of things written in recent years. Nothing truly excited me. Authors just wrote the entire thing
in a hurried mess and was satisfied by pumping out large quantity of crap. Editors were happy to assist
in the dispersal of the crap. Readers were eager to read the heaping pile of crap and rave about its
incredible quality. Though, in the end, it was still just glorified crap.
I guess I couldn't so easily blame it on the era. In any bookstore, there were good books and not
so good books. The difference was diversity.
I turned the knob and I was nearly knocked over from its intensity by the scent of yellowed,
decaying pages. It took me back to my high school days to my room at my parents house, lined with
shelves. Distorted memories of being nose-deep in fantastical plot lines, times, and places raced in a
blur. I shut off my senses other than smell and inhaled deeply. My body was suddenly felt airy and my
chest was filled with warmth. It was a pleasant feeling. “Miss? Miss? Are you alright?†A girl's chipper
voice snapped me from my trance.
My cheeks reddened slightly in response to being caught intoxicated. I'm sure I appeared that I
had a mental illness, standing in the doorway, smelling the air like an idiot. “Sorry, I'm fine...†I noted
her name tag, “ Ann.â€
Worry gone, she smiled. “Good. Anyway, welcome. I'm Ann and it's your first time here, right?â€
I was about to respond, but she continued, unperturbed by attempt, “I don't recognize you, so it must be
because I know every single costumer who enters those doors and you do not ring a bell. No, not at all.
You are a total stranger. You were-I mean. You are not anymore. Unless you come in on days I don't
work, which are Mondays and Wednesdays always and alternating days during the week.†She was
running on a single breath and it was a relief to both of us when she took another. Even talking a
million miles a minute, she was gasping towards the end. I missed a couple words, but I was still able
to determine her message. I couldn't think as quick as she was forming scattered sentences. Too soon,
she began again, “The boss watches Bound & Profound on Mondays and Wednesdays 'cause he says
th at nobody bothers buying books on Mondays and Wednesdays. I don't know. I would buy books on
any day of the week. The other days Ultan and I switch off. He's my boyfriend and I love him so much
and I see him all the time, but we don't work at the same times. Boss doesn't need more than one person
looking after things, but wouldn't it be so romantic, working side by side with the love of your life?â€
The one-sided, mindless chatter wasn't going anywhere fast and while she broke her continuous
chain, I chimed in, “I'm going to look around, but thanks for the help.â€
I turned from her and submerged myself in piles and shelves. Every crooked shelf was jammed,
edge to edge, with books of all sizes. The ones that didn't fit on the shelves were stacked into towering
piles, some reaching shoulder height. The lack of windows deprived the space of natural light and
scattered lamps kept the shop from darkness. The lamps were different heigh ts, shapes, colors and were
found on every available inch. The docile lamplight was terr ibly bright, but it was enough to make out
the words on the spines. The paint on the ceiling was completely gone in chunks, but the walls were
beige and fresh.
Wondering, careful not no touch anything that looked remotely rickety or wobbly, I pulled
books off the shelves at random. The buttery pages fluttered over my finger tips as I skimmed. My next
choice was hardcover inconveniently located in the center of a billowing pile. I wanted that exact book,
in that exact spot, for no exact reason. I gently wriggled it from its spot while trying my best not to let
the rest topple.
I almost had it. Almost. I let my guard down at the last little bit was there... and then it rapidly
collapsed on top of me. I shielded myself from the falling debris, but the strangest thing occurred. I
didn't feel the pain of pointed book corners or anything. Just a shadow blocked me.