{{ Death Valley }} // murderled
@murderled
What the fuck did a guy have to do to have one goddamn good night? Was this some sort of divine judgement, God shaking His almighty middle finger at Zack for surviving all the shit he did in the past? Because if it was, Zack was determined to find a way to punch God in his smug face if he didn’t get some fucking cheetos.
So far, every corner store had shooed him off like a stray cat, probably correctly assuming him to be some hooligan out to cause trouble. He never even had time to think about it before someone was telling him to get out, or staring at him as if he were a freak. Which he could understand, it wasn’t often tall strangers wrapped in bandages and wearing hoodies waltzed into corner markets with a bad attitude to match the glares he kept shooting at people.
Still!
His money was the same as everyone else’s right? Needless to say, Zack was in a downright fowl mood. So when some blond haired pretty boy entered his line of sight, Zack’s first impulse reaction was to pick a fight and hopefully get to bury a knife in someone’s gut, or, at the very least, have some fun that evening.
“Hey! Pretty boy!” He called, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and walking directly toward the blond, shoulders hunched and a dangerous glint in his mismatched eyes. “The fuck do you think you’re doin’ out here so late at night?” A grin crossed his face, every motion radiating a desire to fight someone. Honestly, he didn’t even care if he won or even got close to him; he just wanted to see someone make a terrified face other than stupid store clerks.
“Didn’t you hear somethin’ ‘bout those fucked up murders that’ve happened around here? You waiting for someone to come and slash you to pieces, or are you just a fucking idiot?”
