“Come on, you stupid piece of shit...” Wrenn growled, glaring intensely at the humming metal box in front of her. Patience wasn't the raven and red haired girl's strong suit, and toasters gnawed at her last nerve.
“A hatred of toasters... What an interesting hate to have.” She said to herself as she stood, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes fixed on the toaster with an icy glare.
The toaster whirred softly as it cooked the toast at his own pace. Obviously, the girl's glare was doing absolutely no intimidating, much to her dismay.
A few minutes passed and the toaster still never gave up it's hostage, which irritated Wrenn to no end. She leaned in close, staring down at her toast that looked just brown enough to eat. As she was pushing herself back from the counter she let out a loud huff of air that was cut off as the toaster suddenly popped, causing her to jump back from the counter, her heart pounding hard against her chest.
“Scared by a goddamn toaster!” she groaned, slapping herself in the forehead with the palm of her hand. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
She took a minute to let her heart slow down before she grabbed her toast from the beast of an appliance, giving it another death glare before turning to butter her food. She finished it off quickly, and took a look over at the coffee maker. She turned it on before she made her toast, but it still had less than an inch of coffee in it. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she wiped some stray crumbs from her lips and looked down at herself.
She didn't bother getting dressed yet this morning, so she was as bare as the day she was born. She wasn't worried about peeping toms, though, because her apartment didn't even have a window in it. Figures, with how crappy the building was.
She was pretty satisfied with how she looked. She had an average sized chest, a flat stomach, and lean, athletic legs. Her eyes roamed down her own body, stopping at her left ankle where a small black strap attached to a larger black box was located. The black box had a small green light on the top, signaling that she wasn’t out of her ‘safe zone’. Her tracker. She lifted her foot slightly, wiggling it back and forth as she let out a loud sigh.
“You should be lucky I got you a damn good deal. You're in the slammer for six months, and you wear this here for a year...” the burly woman started, holding up a black box with a similarly colored strap on it. “or you go to prison for three years. Pick your poison.”
A shiver ran down Wrenn's spine as she recalled that day causing her to physically shudder, and she decided it was time to shower and find something to throw on.
She waded through the mess of clothes, papers, books, and food containers to get to the bathroom – which was actually just fifteen feet away – and grabbed some thought to be clean clothes from the floor as she went. Her apartment consisted of three “rooms”, a bathroom that was behind a small door to the left of the apartment, a living room that was in the center of the apartment and acted as a bedroom for Wrenn, and a kitchen to the right that was connected to the living room, barely separated by a counter.
The bathroom was small and cramped, and only had a mirror, toilet, and shower. There was no sink, and there was no room for anything but herself in there. If she was more feminine, that bathroom would be her own personal hell. Fortunately, Wrenn was much too masculine to care. It had a shower, so she was happy.
By habit, Wrenn stopped in front of the mirror and stared at herself for a few minutes. Her red and black dyed hair resembled a bird's nest at the moment, instead of the long, straight style she usually went with. If she hadn't just woke up, her hair would reach the center of her back instead of just touching her shoulders.
She analyzed her reflection carefully. Her elegantly structured face was pale, and clear. There were no blemishes, giving her the look of porcelain. Her eyes were pale blue, and stared with an intensity that would have made any man’s skin crawl. She always admired body modifications and had a few herself. Her right eyebrow was pierced with a rainbow colored barbell – a gift from her best friend who thought she should show more gay pride – and she also had a silver hoop through her left nostril, and a barbell below the center of her bottom lip. Besides that, she had three hoops in either ear, and one in the cartilage in her right.
Satisfied with how she was looking today – excluding her hair, of course – she took a step to the left and turned the knob on the shower to hot. She waited a few minutes for the water to heat up a considerable amount. The sprinkles of hot water were giving off steam by the time Wrenn was happy with the temperature, and she tossed the clothes she salvaged from her living room onto the closed toilet lid.
As soon as she stepped under the hot spray, her muscles seemed to melt, along with any worry she had at the moment. Wrenn exhaled a long, low contented sigh as she stood under the water that was flowing down her body in sheets. She let every thought leave her mind as she got lost in the pure ecstasy that was her shower.
For what seemed like hours she stood under the downpour, soaking up the heat. Her bliss ended when she realized the water was starting too cool down. The hot water tank was almost empty by now. She grabbed the bottle of shampoo from the shower floor and lathered, rinsed, and repeated just in time for the water to turn ice cold.
“Fuck!” She gasped as she hopped around, desperately trying to avoid the icy blasts of water. She barely managed to stay upright as she hopped over to the faucet and turned the knob to the right, killing the watery beast that was attacking her naked body.
“God damn...” Wrenn muttered as she grabbed a big red towel from the floor and wrapped it around herself. She dried herself off quickly, shivering from the cold water that attacked her moments before. As soon as she wasn't dripping onto the floor anymore, she grabbed her clothes from the toilet seat. She pulled on her plain white panties, hopping on one foot as she pulled them up over the other to keep her balance.
After safely covering her lower half with their respective clothing article, she professionally put on her bra, followed by a black tank top, a pair of dark blue jeans, and a studded belt. Satisfied, she left the bathroom and went back to check on her coffee.
To her luck the coffee was finished brewing, and a steaming pot of dark brown, bitter caffeine was waiting for her. She made her way over to the kitchen, strategically avoiding anything on the floor that could cause her harm. The second she got into the kitchen, she ran over to pour herself a cup of coffee, leaving it black. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, taking in the bitter aroma of the brown liquid before her. It wasn't until she got a lung-full of coffee fumes that she took a sip.
“Ahhhh...” She breathed, feeling the warm liquid spreading it's heat throughout her entire body. She was enjoying this almost as much as the beginning of her shower. But this time, there was nothing that could ruin it.
Or so she thought.
A knock came at the door. She frowned, knowing just who it was.
“Come in.” She groaned, setting her coffee down on the counter.
“Is it safe?” The visitor questioned as they cautiously opened the door.
Wrenn rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you think you’re walkin’ into, Chels? A goddamn mine field?” She growled out, her eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.
The girl stepped inside the messy apartment, her mouth agape. “Holy shit!” She gasped dramatically, “It’s even messier than the last time I was here!”
Wrenn glared at the redhead standing in the entrance of her apartment, unmoving.
The girl put her hands up in front of her in defense, laughing. “Woah there, tiger. I was jokin’. No need ta give me the death glare.” She teased, a large smile playing on her lips.
Wrenn, on the other hand, wasn’t amused. She knew her apartment was messy, she didn’t need to be reminded by the redhead every morning of that fact.
The girl’s name was Chelsea O'Connelly, and she was Wrenn’s best friend. They had known each other since grade school, and Chelsea was the only person who was allowed to talk to Wrenn the way she did. Anyone else would have had their asses beaten by now. The girl was energetic, optimistic, and bubbly – the polar opposite of the lazy, cold, pessimist that is Wrenn Ames. Chelsea had short fiery hair that curled around her ears, more freckles than you could count, and was completely, and proudly, Irish. Along with being a proud Irishman, she was also a very proud lesbian, and didn’t neglect to flaunt that fact. Wrenn, on the other hand, wasn’t one to flaunt her sexuality. She let people know when she needed to, and that was it.
“So, we leavin’ yet?” The bubbly redhead asked, nodding her head towards the door.
“Yeah…” Wrenn replied, glancing at her half empty mug of coffee with a sadness in her eyes before heading out, grabbing her worn leather jacket on her way to the door. She wanted to finish that coffee.
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