|The Hunt - Barna Nemethi|
"..don't fucking fool yourself." he said. "you no different from us and simply hustling your way through life.Who do u think u are making our friends feel uncomfortable so that they choose to leave?"
She sat back ...astounded, feeling insulted.
Could it be that she was a hustler? And there it was...the meaning of words...what images and emotions they knew to evoke.
He continued to pull on his cigarette, oblivious to the change in her mood.
There must be some truth in the matter, she thought.
If there wasn't, why would he say it.
She had allowed herself to keep company with this...how would she put it?...hustler! Yes! A fucking hustler! No wonder he thought she was one too.
All of a sudden it became clear what it was that had been eating away at her for months.
A lazy ass guy, preying off her desperation to belong to someone. Her measly salary paying for that cigarette he was pulling on.
She looked around her apartment...the stench of beer pervasive...empty bottles, one too many all over the place. Since when had she become patient and accepting of alcohol abuse??
And worst of all...the lazying around, excuse after excuse as to why tomorrow was the perfect day to wake up with the rising sun and go chase those dreams of jobs that pay well.
What the fuck was it that had drawn her to him??
She felt embarrassed to admit it but...she knew.
That first night she had fucked him like a nymphomaniac...her loneliness sending her on the prowl and he, waiting for someone like her.
Sex had kept them together, bonding them in the most wrong of ways. She had nothing in common with him yet chose to believe he loved her .
Her heart became scared and a cold sweat hit her brow...no he was not a hustler...he was worse than that...he was a predator and she... the perfect prey...RB.