Page 1 of Viper's Claim

I’ve never spent a day in a real prison. But what defines a prison? Because as I looked up and around the call center, I felt like I was in a prison.

I had two jobs. I got side remarks from other staff members if I just didn’t want a life. But that wasn’t the case. I just. . . had nothing else to do.

I had no friends.

My family and I barely got on. I had to leave my dad and his lifestyle behind… because I’d experienced the other side of this life.

I had no siblings. Well that’s how I viewed it.

So, working at the call center and then retail at night for a few hours, just was my life.

When I did get spare time. I didn’t have a secret love for sports. I struggled with reading, as I found it hard to sit still. I didn’t have a single hobby. I also didn’t have any strong hidden abilities. Like being fearless. Hell, I was scared of daddy long-leg spiders and they couldn’t even hurt me.

Every day it felt like my life was pointless and if I was to die. No one would care or have a memory to reflect back on me.

I handed my station over to the next staff member, as this was a twenty-four-seven call center. But I only did the day shift and went to my locker. Every day, I was going through the motions, but I wasn’t living.

Just . . . alive for what point I didn’t know.

Leaving work, I drove to the only place that gave me peace. The lake on the end of town. I couldn’t explain why I went there. I took my sunglasses off, and then walked to the bench that I normally sat on.

I wasn’t a complete psychopath. I did have a coffee with me. This was what I classed as peace.

The fresh air.

I closed my eyes, inhaling when the deafening sound of a motorcycle came this way. I looked over my shoulder. Watching him pull the bike to the side, with haste.

He turned the bike off and my ears rang for a moment.

Until I heard his loud cursing and wordfuckover and over.

I was one second away from asking him if he wanted a Valium from my purse, which I had for panic attacks. It went against every fiber of my body to get up.

But I did. I walked towards him.

“Are you okay?”

He looked up, shocked to see someone else here, I think.

He opened his mouth and then closed it.

“If it makes you feel better, no one else is here,” I added. He looked even tenser by that fact. Okay. “I have Valium. Do you want one?”

He turned to face me, and my eyes widened.

“Just because I wear a one percent cut, you think I want to pop a pill?” his voice was deep dark and scared the living shit out of me. This man was everything you are warned around to stay away from.

“Forget I said anything.” I took two steps back. Do I go back for my bag? Or run for my car. Fuck my keys are in my bag.

I gulped.

“I just found out my sister is going through with finally marrying my father's best mate and even though I know she is cancer-free. I’m fucking. . .” he locked eyes with me. His voice was less harsh this time. “I’m mad at her. I’m fucking mad she lied to us for nearly a year. I'm mad she had an affair behind my back with Brad. I’m mad that she is so fucking happy. And I feel like a dick about all of it.”

Okay. I’m not a counselor. I answer calls around insurance policies.

What the fuck do I say back to that?

“Well. . .” I paused. Okay, Aurora. You can give his man a piece of wisdom. “I was four and at McDonald’s and a boy came up and stole my toy from my happy meal. I was really angry about it. Because it was the girl toy and I always got the boy toy before that.”

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