Cigarettes, Sex and Knives

Chapter 1: Ms. Locke meets Locker

There was light, too much light.

She groaned, shifting on the white bed restlessly, her eyes squinting as her brows arched upwards. Weakly, her hand came up and touched her face. She moved her hand too quickly and poked her left eye hard. Her hand coordination was pathetic.


She heard voices, voices that were too far away to be deciphered.


Finally, the girl had the wits to open her eyes. They cracked open but immediately closed when the harsh light from the window hit her vision. "The…" She croaked. "…light."

"It must be hurting her. Her eyes must be sensitive." She didn't recognize that voice, it was strange, somewhat smoothing but peculiar. She never noticed until now that there was a hand caressing her arm in comfort. The fingertips were barely skimming along her skin.

Suddenly, she was pitched into the darkness and the fingers stopped their work.

"Josephine, I need you to open your eyes." A soft, deep voice ordered. It was annoyingly scratchy and harsh, as if the man who spoke screamed all his life since he was a child.

Nevertheless, she obeyed his command.

She opened her mismatched eyes, the blurry images playing around in motion. Josephine squinted at the white blobs floating around, narrowing her eyes, trying to tell the useless objects to settle down before she let her hand fly through the air.

"Honey, don't glare at the nurse, she's trying to help you." The same annoying deep voice floated through the air.

"…I--" Josephine was cut off as she started hacking, her hand coming up to her throat. It was as dry as the desert.

"She needs water. Her throat is dry." The nurse stated. The white uniformed woman went to the sink, opening a cabinet with a cup.

Immediately water was given.

Josephine sighed in contentment, leaning back on the soft pillow beneath her head. She looked around her surroundings with a calm aura. There was a doctor staring down at her with questioning eyes, a nurse standing beside him with an amused expression. Josephine looked away from them, gazing at the white, compact room she was in.

Suddenly, the situation dawned upon her.

With a quickness that challenged a puma, she bolted upright, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her vision cleared, allowing her duo eyes to fixate upon the area she was trapped in.

"Why the hell am I in a hospital?" Her voice was hoarse and raspy.

The doctor's eyebrows rose in surprise. Maybe it was because of her words or maybe it was because of her memory. He turned to the nurse who stood beside him, her hands locked behind her back: prim and uptight. He then turned to Josephine with his brown eyes.

"You don't remember?" He said, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"No," She glared at the doctor and nurse, holding onto the hospital blanket, trying to seek security and protection. "I don't remember." If she even did remember, she wouldn't be asking them in the first place. Isn't that common sense?

Obviously these people didn't find anything in place.

"Well, why don't we start with the basics?" The doctor pulled up a chair to sit next to the hospital bed, his head bending down two inches to gaze at the clipboard in his hands. "What is your name?"

"Billy Bob Thornton." She said with a breeze.

The nursed choked on her spit.

Neither of them found it funny.

"Josephine Locke." Josephine answered glumly, rubbing her eyes with the knuckle of her fist to wipe out the sleep. Or at least she was trying to get rid of the sleep.

"How old are you?" The doctor didn't even try to respond to her stupidity.

"Eighteen years old." Her tongue itched to say she was a seventy-six-year old suicidal virginal male who can't find a male prostitute to satisfy some feet fetish. But her grandma would probably end up tackling her with a bar of soap in her hand, along with her trusty sidekick with a wooden bamboo rod in hand: her dad.

"And what school do you attend?"

"Ferringway High School." Unconsciously, her hand found its way through her brown wavy hair. That is until her fingertips came in contact with gauze taped on her forehead. "What the…" Her voice trailed off when she felt pain strike at her temple. "Did I faint?"

"No," The doctor coughed and stood from his small pedestal. "You were rushed from school. Apparently, something happened and you hit your head at the edge of someone's open locker."

Josephine winced, applying pressure to her forehead as she sought for some information from her brain. Apparently, it wouldn't give her any access. "How?"

Before the doctor can answer, someone opened the door to the room.

"Hey, is hellcat alright?" A deep sexy voice resonated through the room.

The nurse smiled lamely at the devastatingly hot god who stood so nonchalantly at the door of her hospital room.

"Young man--" The doctor started, but Josephine didn't let him finish.

"YOU!" She roared, spittle flying from her mouth.


This man--boy stunk of cigarettes. His smoky gray eyes were filled with rebelliousness and stubbornness. The cruel smirk on his face grew as he knew that his presence in her room made Josephine livid. He entered the room despite the doctor's words, leaning on the door frame with amusement dancing in his eyes. His hair was black and glossy, as perfect as an actor's. It was the only thing on him that was sane.

The jeans were snug on his hips, leaving wild imaginations to the older woman outside who were staring at his buttocks as they passed her room. They weren't tight. They were snug. He had on a Guns and Roses t-shirt, also snug, displaying his muscles that left the nurse inside her hospital room practically drooling, and of course his sleeves were ripped off.

No doubt by himself.

Josephine cringed in disgust when the infamous bad boy waggled his tongue at her, his tongue piercing glinting with mischief.

There was a tribal tattoo running down the length of his left, well sculpted, upper arm. It could confuse anyone with its loops, sharp corners, and zigzag lines, but from another's point of view it could be beautiful--

Beautifully full of bullshit.

At the side of his temple was yet another tattoo, a small tribal black dragon. It was about three and a half inches long. It was nothing detailed or fancy. It was just a plain black dragon above his right cheekbone. She had all her money that that tattoo was as fake as her best friend's fingernails.

What a despicable and desperate wannabe.

At the left side of his neck was another tattoo. Nobody at the school had ever had a chance to actually taken a good look at it besides his buddies. When someone spoke of it, they described it as another obsession of tribal tattoos. Something Ross had developed. The tattoo on his neck had thin, black, vine-like shape reaching up his neck and swiftly touching the back of his ear. The rest of his tattoo disappeared under his shirt.

"Hey, hellcat, spittin' fire lately?" He grinned as Josephine's white face flamed, fuming with anger.

Ross Hemingway, the notorious, playboy, rebel of Ferringway High.

Multiple images flew through her head and she suddenly remembered everything.

Every single little fucking detail.


Fight happening across her locker—

She stupidly ignores it and walks to her locker—

Fingers nimbly working on the lock—

An idiotic, nerdy kid bends down to open his locker, it opens—

Continues to ignore the yells and screams (of warning)—

Idiotic kid forgets to close his locker, Josephine ignores it—

Hard, well formed, figure shoves against her weak, pathetic excuse of a body—

Her body flails sideways, arms flung out for balance—

God purposely ignores her desperate wish—

(Karma's a bitch, by the way)

Her forehead smacks against the door of the locker—

She curses the Idiotic Kid before swallowed in darkness—


She growled.

Yes, Josephine Locke growled, wanting her retaliation. But instead of sounding dangerous and utterly pure of fury, her pathetic growl ended up sounding like a cat hacking hairballs.

Ross laughed, pointing at her. "I thought hellcats purred and yowl. Not growl like a dog!" He smirked, the lip pierce at the left corner lifted, mocking Josephine.

"Now, now," The doctor stood with his hands up, trying to contain the inevitable fight that was about to happen. "This is a hospital--"

"Let them sort it out." The nurse advised stupidly, her eyes shining as she eyed Ross.

"You—you…" She was lost of words. "You hellhound!" She snarled, flinging the blanket away from her as she stalked towards him. "You were the one who shoved me! You're the reason I'm stuck here with this thing wrapped around my head in the first place!" Josephine pointed at his face, anger flowing through her veins like blood.

She was pissed.

He only grinned down at her flustered face, loving the smoke coming out of her ears. "You were in the way. What kind of idiot stands in the middle of a fight?"

"I was at my locker!" She screeched in defense.

"Yeah, and you stepped out of the safety zone." Ross swaggered even deeper into the room, nodding to the doctor and winking at the nurse who blushed furiously from the attention. How ancient was that hag again?

"Just making sure you're okay." Suddenly, his whole image changed. He went from a mischievous rebel to a caring boyfriend, his eyes full of concern and worry, words laced with soft texture. Ross stood next to the bed and Josephine scrambled to get to the other side.

"Oh, my, poor hellcat," Ross grinned, bent down and gave her an unexpected kiss at her lips.

Josephine's hand went flying, but the bastard pulled back just in time.

She had no idea how the hell she met him... Actually she does. Josephine glared at him, her duo eyes clashing with his stormy grey ones. It all happened in the middle of last year, her junior year. It was a rainy day, and Josephine and her friend decided to walk instead of driving; simply because they love the rain and they had their umbrellas.

As the two were walked, there was a rude motorcyclist who rushed past them, drenching the two. Furious and angry, they couldn't do anything but watch as it rode past them, laughter floating in the air. Though it was raining, Josephine got a good look at the motorcycle.

The two girls continued to walk in the rain in an angry mood when suddenly the motorcycle came back. Josephine, full of fury, bent down, grabbed a rock and threw it at the person. It bounced off the black helmet. She glared at the culprit while her friend stood there staring at the two with wide eyes.

Ross removed his helmet, checking his protective gear with incredible measurement. He demanded for her to pay for the scratch on it.

She refused. Josephine walked up to him, her blood pulsing with life. She accusingly pointed at him and started screaming profanities and obscenities, how he ruined her designer shoes and how rude he was for not even apologizing.

As she continued to rant and yell at him, Ross rolled his eyes, leaned down, and left a kiss on her lips. She slapped him hard. She left three nail marks running down his cheek. Therefore, she earned the name: hellcat.

And he had lived up to his name by always giving lewd remarks and committing perverted actions towards Josephine; therefore, his name: hellhound.

Ross found this one intriguing, and kept by her side—literally.

"I hate you." Josephine stated.

Ross chuckled, annoying the hell out of her. "Good to see that you're okay, hellcat. I would've gone to the store the hospital owns and bought you roses. That is, if you happened to died from a stupid accident you brought yourself into."

Josephine's face turned dark and sinister. "Ross…" She growled and pointed at him. "I'll be the last person on the planet to die. And if I don't--"

"You'll give me a present?" Ross interrupted brusquely. He threw back his head and let out a sexy, deep, throaty laugh. The nurse blushed tenfold. Suddenly, Ross stopped laughing and smirked at her. "Can I open my present now?"

"What?" Josephine face was full of confusion.

"Your underwear, that is." His eyes twinkled in mischief.

"What?" She curled her lip in irritation and confusion. She looked down at her body to see that she was wearing a white tank top—

And her underwear.

But it was too late. Ross' hand had darted out and pulled the edge of her elastic band of her white, strawberry covered underwear. He gave a small peek inside and laughed. "As I expected."

Paralyzed with shock, Josephine couldn't do anything but stare incredulously at him. Ross only smiled at her frozen demeanor. Quickly, his head rushed forth and left her a smacking kiss on her gaping lips, again. That seemed to have awakened the beast. "Pervert!" She snarled and glared at him.

Ross laughed and was about to turn away. But before Ross turned around and left, his hand came up and lightly chucked Josephine beneath the chin, pissing her off even more. "See you later, love."

She lifted up her hand and pointed at him, blood pounding through her head. "Ross Hemingway--" She didn't get to finish her sentence.

Because a couple of feet into the hallway, he turned around and winked at Josephine before he left. "By the way, nice wax."

Her scream of frustration echoed through the corridors of the hospital. Josephine snarled, jumping over the hospital bed to throw on her clothes. "Give me the paper works and I'll sign them." She turned her vicious eyes at the nurse and doctor who stared at her in shock. "I can leave, right?" Hellcat practically hissed out venom from her mouth.

"Y-yes." The doctor stuttered, turning on his heel. "The nurse has the paper works with her right now. Sign them and give them to her once you've finished. I advise you to keep yourself from moving quickly--" It was too late. The patient signed the papers with the speed of light and was out the door in a flash. He sighed, shaking his head. "She's going to--" A sound of splattering stomach fluid finished his sentence.

Josephine gagged as she tasted the horrendous fluid in her mouth. She wiped her hand across her mouth and staggered to the elevator as the hospital attendants stood around her vomit with a grimace. Turning around, she pressed a button and leaned on the wall of the elevator. Why the hell was she feeling so goddamn weak?

Once the door opened, she was heading towards the hospital exit. Josephine fished through her pockets, looking for her cell phone. "What?" She stood still at the entrance, desperately trying to find her small flip phone.

Then it hit her.

It wouldn't even work if she found it. Her cell phone plan ended just three days ago. Josephine snarled, glaring at the parking lot as an old couple walked across. What was she going to do now?

Her ears perked when she heard numerous annoying giggles from the right. Irritated, she turned to see Ross surrounded by four drop dead sexy sluts. He had that playboy smile on his face, placing the right cards on the table to get all four on the table. "And you know what I said?" He leaned down to one girl's ear and whispered. Josephine could already see that the slut was about to faint.

Ignoring him, she turned around and started to scavenge for a bus stop.

"Hey! Hellcat!"

She started to run.

Ross laughed as he saw Josephine running. "Sorry, my ladies, but it seems as if there's a dragon in distress over there." He smirked. The four sighed and swoon with awe and lust. "I'll see you later." He did a small salute and started to run after the hellcat. "Come back here, my precious!"

In fact she did. Josephine did a small U-turn and ran straight at Ross. She narrowed her eyes at him, pulling back her fist as he tried to accept her with open arms. "Leave me alone!" The woman punched him across the face, causing him to spin and fall to the ground. Josephine felt a bead of sweat rolling down her temple as she huffed and puffed. She absolutely felt no sympathy.

Ross groaned, trying to come up to his knees. "I'm so sorry!" He grabbed to her pants tightly, wailing as he sobbed pathetically.

"Let me go!" Josephine blushed furiously as a couple of strangers looked at them with curiosity. "Goddamn, Ross, let me go!" She furiously kicked her leg out, but he held his grip.

"But it's for the baby! I'll stay and be the father! I'll drop out of high school and find a job for the three of us to live in this world!" Josephine's mouth gaped as those words spewed out of his disgusting mouth. He hugged her around the legs, still kneeling on the ground as his face was bowed and rubbing against her outer right thigh.

"Oh, the poor boy," An old grandmother shook her head as she passed by. "Such mistakes that he wants to fix, Marshall."

Her husband laughed heartily. "That woman is going to lead him around the house with a leash, Agatha."

Josephine shoved Ross away and started running, unable to handle the embarrassing scene that asshole created. She continued to run even if she heard his damn laughter in the background.

That damn rebel.

The most important rules for a rebel:

Yes = No

No = Yes

Edited by: redambrosia


A/N: This was one of the stories I was supposed to post after Dancing with the Devil finishes XD But I got too excited and decided to post it early (: This chapter is just an introduction to the characters XD You can read about their personality and just how much Josephine hates Ross LOL

I got the name "Josephine" from the movie, Titanic. Does anybody remember the part when Rose is singing on the floating canvas? Or was it a destroyed, wooden part from a closet? Anyways, she was singing and she sang a song that kind of went like: "Come Josephine in my flying machine. Going up she goes! Up she goes!" As some of my stories goes, I don't really like common names, haha. I want my characters to have wild, uncommon names x) But there goes for an exception with Molly because I've always liked that name(: It's cute and short, haha. And I have only met one Molly so far XD

For those who are curious of Josephine's eyes, go to google and search: Kate Bosworth. Sectoral Heterochromia is completely different from Complete Heterochromia. Complete Heterochromia is when the irises are COMPLETELY different colors. Whereas the Sectoral Heterochromia is different colors but just in a small section or even half of the iris. Josephine has Sectoral Heterochromia, just like Kate Bosworth.

This story will be rated 'M' for the many scenes that will come in play (: tootles!~

Next update: INTERIOR MONOLGUE (for sure)