《Grimm》Chapter 3.1 : Promises
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A/N note: im starting to think i dont know how chapter titles work..i mean this one has nothing to do with the chapter title.. OR DOES IT?...i wont tell...unless you ask nicely.
Chapter 3.1: Promise
Samantha POV
Night work. I've been pushing papers in the office for a month now. Seriously I feel like no one else wanted to go and pushed this crap onto me.
*sigh*
Well works, work. I get up from my bed and fumble for the light switch. As the world turns white I rub the sleep out of my eyes. I check the time, it's 11pm. I always sleep early at 9pm, my mother drilled this sleep pattern into me since I was a child and I haven't been able to shake it since. Honestly everyone else is probably too wasted having a party and they leave the job to me.
*sigh*
They're good people really , they work just as hard as me…BUT IT'S A SUNDAY
Couldn’t those bastards send someone else out ? urrgghhhh
This is what I get for being a good little girl and not getting wasted on my Sundays. I left my mother place to become independent and my own woman..but so far I've been doing the same things I have when I've been living with my mother. NOTHINGS CHANGED DAMMIT!!! I shout loudly…in my mind of course I've got neighbours and they hate me…
I finish my mental exclamation and take a shower and start to get dressed. It best to have a good first impression I say facing the mirror fixing my suit. Okay first time on the job . you got this I psyche myself up in the closet mirror. I take the time to comb out the bed hair and try to generally look less like I just crawled out of bed. My brown eyes still look drowsy. So I make start to boil some water for tea before I leave, never could take that bitter sludge they call coffee*
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[please note that the characters words and views do not represent the authors own opinions …except this one case in which she completely represent the authors own personal views, that stuff is bitter sewage and I can't understand how anyone can stomach it without drowning in a mountain of sugar]
As I leave the kettle on I try to fish out my shoes from the disorderly mess my room is. You would think with a one bedroom apartment there wouldn’t be too many places for my shoes to hide. You would be wrong. After an eternity I find my shoes right beside my bed…..I am too stupid to live….honestly I think I should just go home to mom..I can't be responsible for myself , I need an adult…..
The whistle for the kettle breaks my realisation that being an adult is hard. I wake myself up with a bit of tea and put my shoes on. And check my appearance one last time in the mirror. My brown eyes look a lot livelier and my messy brown hair is arranged into a ponytail. I look like the picture of professionalism…or barely passable....I better go before I fall back into my well of self pity.
I hail a cab and make way to the police station. In the back seat of the car I'm thinking....I could be drunk right now… I mean I don't really drink that much, my strict upbringing didn’t allow for it my mother kept me on a strict ad short leash. No drinking, no staying out late with friends and most of all no boys. Yup. My leash is shorter than the ones you would use for a misbehaving dog .
(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )
I sigh , a sigh so deep I feel like my soul is leaving my body.
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I can’t keep living under my mother's thumb all my life I'm 20 I should be having the time of my life…. I don’t need my mother to tell me how to live my life.
"I'm a strong independent woman that don’t need no man!" I exclaim in my mind
The driver turns around at the red light and stares back at me as if I'm insane…that was out loud wasn’t it…. The driver turns back and mumbles something about not being paid enough for this. I hold me head in shame and say no more until I reach the station. I pay the man hurriedly and make my way toward the station. I get let in. the police station is in pretty high spirits , seems they nabbed a big fish. At least someone is happy to be up this late [it's not really that late you grumpy pus] I'm called over by a police woman and escorted to the room. On the way in I'm told of what happened. Poor kid, lost both parents in one night…I mean they're criminals but the kid lost his parents , no other living kin either..seriously this kids all alone. The cold rush of reality took away any remaining traces of sleepiness. Okay no big deal. I just have to comfort a some kid who just lost his home, his parents and just about all he's ever known….. no pressure…..I need an adult (⌯˃̶᷄ ﹏ ˂̶᷄⌯)….wait a minute I'm an adult….I need an more adult , adult.
Bracing myself I enter the room. And see the kid…um…. He? She? Am I in the wrong room? Are there any other kids here who have also lost their parents? I'm looking for a boy aged 7.. I mean it could be a boy the long red hair isn't really helping distinguish what exactly it I'm looking at. The police woman calls out "Grimm" the mass of hair perks up and looks towards the door
"This is Samantha and she'll be sorting you out now" she continues.
I look towards the boy again and see him staring back at me , with two glowing orbs of violet.
Samantha extra:
Who names their kid Grimm?
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A/N : post note
Gap Moe anyone? I originally didn’t want grim associating with any other characters a bit. Get him into a little isolation then introduce the main heroines. But then I started to write Sam's character and I somehow made her a stark contrast to Grimm's character. Which is fun to write. Also this story is listed under fantasy so expect magic to come…eventually… I mean it's going to be a big part of the story
*cough * to use as a fix in a situation, in case I write myself into a corner *cough*
i mean as a means to enrich the story of course :) (What do I look like a hack? Of course not , you don’t know what I look like. you don't know who i am. A prepubescent boy with illusions of grandeur ? An FBI agent pretending to be a girl(I mean it's the internet there are no girls on here)? Some middle aged man with a neck beard ? some middle-aged woman with a neck beard? personally I've always identified as a red fire-truck but that just me.
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